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asexual at the best of times, and a flat-out freak at the worst. He knew his childhood had screwed him up, especially his sexuality. After all, how many men reached his age and were still virgins?
“‘C’mere,” Bo scraped out, patting the cushion. A thousand crack-fuelled butterflies burst free in his stomach. It was one thing to cuddle with the injured man in the middle of the night, feigning sleep as an excuse to hold him close. This was more personal, a more conscious choice, and Max wasn’t sure it was a smart one. That didn’t stop him from tossing his Stetson onto the recliner and dropping down a few inches away from Bo.
“Looks like you’re doing better today.” Max swallowed his nerves and looked at Bo, noting the stark bruising on his neck and face. At least the swelling had gone almost all the way down. “Probably good for you to be moving around a bit.”
“Bed’s just no fun without you,” Bo crooned in a rough voice that went straight to Max’s balls. “I keep landing in the crack between the beds.” Bo did something with his bottom lip, pushing it out in what Max thought might have been a pout. It looked painful with the healing splits scabbed over, and was more effective because of it.
“You could always lay in my bed,” Max said, referring to the bed in his room. It wasn’t much bigger than the twin beds shoved together, but the mattress was new and there was no man-eating crack in the middle of it. “I don’t care if you do.” He kind of thought he’d like that, actually, having Bo’s scent on his pillows, secreted into his sheets. Maybe even the mattress itself so that Max could lie there on lonely nights and catch the faint whiff of this man.
Bo smiled at him and Max was surprised to notice the man had scooted closer, nearly brushing against Max at the shoulder. “Thank you.” Bo gave him a look Max wasn’t sure how to interpret, but it threatened to set each of Max’s nerve endings on fire. “I will probably take you up on that.” Bo shifted even closer. His right hand gently rested on Max’s thigh.
“But in the meantime, I’ve got a proposition for you.”
Max didn’t know whether to be nervous or terrified. Once Bo had made his
‘proposition’, though, Max was actually relieved. He didn’t mind sharing his bed with the man, and Bo had a point, it’d sure be more comfortable than sleeping in those twin beds.
Max woke up every morning with such a bad crick in his back it was a miracle he could even move.
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And if he was honest, there was more to it than just comfort. The idea of Bo in his bed night after night just flat out made Max happy, and something else—possessive. Not in the chest-thumping caveman way, but like Bo was his. It was weird, and probably wrong, but Max didn’t want to think about it when Bo was smiling at him and just looking happy and relaxed. Then that smile dimmed a little before turning into a grimace. Max frowned and tried to figure out what he’d done wrong.
“You know what I was doing at the club,” Bo said, his lids sliding down over his eyes.
Max grunted, confused as to why the conversation had gone from sharing a bed
to…this.
“I have nightmares about it,” Bo continued. “Not so much when I’m in bed with you, but I figure since I am asking to share your bed, you ought to at least know what happened that night.”
Max’s stomach dipped as he shook his head. He had to clear his throat before he could shove words past it. “No, you don’t have to tell me anything. It’s enough that you’re here and you’re okay. Well, you will be okay.” He was screwing up what he wanted to say, but, damn it, he didn’t want Bo to feel like he had to tell Max anything. “Really, you don’t have to—”
“But I want to,” Bo interrupted, lifting his eyelids enough that Max could just make out the irises and strips of white. “If you are willing to listen.”
Max was willing to do whatever he could to help Bo, even if the idea of hearing what happened directly from the man made him feel a little nauseous. He didn’t know if he could get through it without doing something humiliating like bawling or just as bad, losing his temper and cussing and hitting something. Not Bo, never him, but…
“I’d already kind of figured out I didn’t want to keep fucking around,” Bo began, closing his eyes again once Max nodded. He remembered Bo saying something about
wanting what Chance and Rory had. “Well, I guess I thought it just wasn’t going to ever happen for me and I might as well keep going the way I always had. I went into a club I’ve been in dozens of times before, but…it didn’t feel right, you know? I was trying to convince myself nothing had changed, all I was going to ever have was a lifetime of one-night stands, but it just didn’t…I wasn’t into it.”
Max thought that was one of the saddest things he’d ever heard, and combined with the longing in Bo’s voice, it made his heart ache almost as much as it confused him. “Bo, why MILES TO GO
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would you think you have to settle for that? Don’t you know there’s plenty of men who’d be happy to be with you—have a relationship?”
Bo snorted and grimaced. “Right, Max, and where are all these men, can you tell me that? Because I’ve not yet met a single one of them. And don’t even tell me to look somewhere other than bars and such; it’s not like that’s the only place I’ve
