Suddenly, I was aggravated, aggravated by the whole situation—by Bo and his determination to protect me, his concern for my safety, his willpower to stay away from me. Angrily, I threw my pillow aside and stared furiously at the ceiling.
“Bo, if you can hear me,” I said, speaking aloud, wishing there was some way Bo might be near enough to hear me. I couldn’t tell anymore. I couldn’t feel much in life but for the agonizing hole in my heart that was ever widening. “I need to know you’re here, that you’re anywhere. Please. If you love me, I need to know that you’re still out there.”
I listened and I waited. I breathed in large gulps of air, testing every particle for the scent that haunted my every waking moment and most of my sleeping ones.
But there was nothing, nothing but the smell of the night air that hung outside my window.
Disappointment coursed through me. It was so poignant that I could almost taste it, bitter and thick.
Maybe I was kidding myself. Maybe I’d taken denial to a whole new, unhealthy level. Maybe I was delusional.
Unable to hold back the tears that seemed always to lurk on the horizon, a sob eeked out right before the first drop fell. I wondered if I’d ever have a dry pillow again. It seemed to be wet more often than not of late. I wondered, too, if I’d ever be whole, ever feel complete again. I doubted a positive outcome for either.
“Bo, please,” I whispered.
At times, I could remember with perfect clarity what his arms felt like around me, what his lips felt like against mine and it tore at my guts. If I could bear to give up my memories of Bo, I would pray for amnesia, anything to quiet the way my heart constantly throbbed for him. “If you hurt like I did, you wouldn’t do this to me, you couldn’t do this to me.”
My heart was breaking for the millionth time, something I didn’t think was possible when the pieces were already so small they were like sand or dust. But it could happen. It happened to me all the time anymore. It’s like my heart no longer knew any other mode than devastation and misery. My deluded hope was the only reason I got out of bed in the mornings, the hope that today might finally be the day that I got to see Bo.
I turned on my side and drew my legs up to my chest on the off chance that it might help hold me together, might keep me from falling apart. But it didn’t. I still felt like pieces of my insides were breaking off and forcing their way out through my stomach.
And then I felt it.
Before I even smelled anything, a ripple of recognition washed through my belly. I grew instantly quiet and turned my face toward the ceiling to inhale. Like the comfort of a cool breeze on a hot day, a citrusy smell tickled my nose and I felt the mattress dip at my back.
I turned over and reached out. Though I could see nothing more than the wall and the window beyond my bed, my fingers made contact with a familiar form, with an arm I felt like I knew as well as my own. I’d dreamed of it. I’d dreamed of every inch of Bo. Every tiny detail that I could remember, I’d rehearsed over and over and over in my mind. And now he was here.
CHAPTER TWO
Before I could even speak his name, I was in his arms. Relief and happiness like nothing I’d ever felt, like nothing I could describe, flooded every fiber of my being. It washed over me, washed through me, carrying away all the doubts, all the heartache, all the pain. It was true. It was real. Bo was alive and he’d come back to me.
“Where have you been?” I muttered, the words barely intelligible as they slipped past lips that were pressed to Bo’s neck.
“Not far,” he said quietly. “Never far.”
I felt tears of joy running down my cheeks. I’m sure he could feel them, too, the wetness against his naked skin.
His naked skin? I thought.
The idea of Bo’s unclothed body so close to mine—in my bed, in the dark—
was like setting a match to dry grass, grass deprived too long of the nourishment of rain. Flames of desire tore through my body like brushfire, incinerating all thoughts, all feelings, but for my need of Bo.
Since he held no visible form, I closed my eyes and pictured him in my head.
Leaning back, I pressed my lips to his, using nothing more than my vivid memories to guide me. Unerringly, they found the smooth contours of his mouth.
Bo felt stiff, but I didn’t care. I’d dreamed of his lips, of his kiss and his touch, for what seemed like an eternity. I didn’t care about anything else, any consequences or repercussions, and I had no intention of giving up on the moment I’d waited for so long.
Determined, I kept my lips pressed to his until I felt them soften. It was nearly imperceptible at first, but it wasn’t lost on me. I saw my chance and I took it.
Pushing my fingers into his hair, I lay across Bo’s lap, pulling him down into a deeper kiss. His cool breath was brushing my cheek in short, heavy pants. It was then that I knew that he still felt it too, that he still wanted me as much as I wanted him. He was just resisting it. But I wasn’t going to let him. I needed this. I needed him, his passion. I needed him to lose himself to me the way I’d long ago lost myself to him.
Bo remained strong despite his rising desire. Though he was no longer so stiff, I could tell that he was holding back, clinging tightly to his control.
I ached to be closer to him. My body throbbed for his touch. I craved him on a cellular level that screamed from the tip of every nerve, from every square inch of my flesh. Some untouched, primal part of me begged for a completion that only Bo could give me. I didn’t know when I’d see him again; I just knew I had to get my fill of him tonight.
Determined to push him over the edge, I flicked my tongue across his lips and pressed my heavy br**sts to his chest. I sensed the pause in him, like a gasp that I could feel rather than hear. He stopped breathing for a split second.
His struggle, his indecision, was a nearly palpable thing, as was his burning fervor. I knew the instant that the first teetering domino fell and Bo lost the battle.
But his loss was my victory. It meant I got what I wanted.
In the blink of an eye, Bo’s resistance gave way to a flood of emotion, bathing me in what I yearned for most: his passion. It exploded onto me and stole my breath, setting my blood on fire.
Without hesitation, without caution, Bo’s tongue stormed my mouth, slipping inside to lick and tease mine. Gripping my waist with his big hands, Bo lifted me, guiding my body until I was straddling him.
Roving my back and my hips, Bo’s hands brought to burning life everything they touched. As he gripped my ribs, his thumbs grazed the sides of my br**sts, sending pulses of pleasure rocketing through my body to the place where our bodies touched most intimately.