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Max squinted as he tried to figure out whether the injured man was awake or not. Bo’s eyes were so swollen, Max wasn’t certain he’d know if Bo was peering at him or not, although he thought he saw a sliver of hazel under there. “You awake, buddy?”
Bo grabbed Max’s wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. He half-pulled half-pushed himself up as Max held his arm steady, allowing Bo to dictate how much to exert himself.
God, just watching Bo move made Max hurt. Chances were, Bo wasn’t just beat in the face and arms, his body had probably—
Max’s blood chilled in his veins. Chance had said Bo had been dumped in a field—
nude. Did that mean…? Max wasn’t going to ask. He couldn’t bear to think of someone hurting Bo, especially not like that. But surely Chance would have mentioned—or maybe not. Max knew enough about male pride and egos to think being raped was something most men wouldn’t want to talk about, much less admit to.
Bo grunted and tugged, and Max forced away thoughts that were guaranteed to drive him insane. “I take it you mean move, huh?”
At the slight nod from Bo, Max stepped back, slowly helping Bo from the truck. His arm slid around Bo’s waist as the injured man’s feet touched the ground. Max told himself the reason it felt so good to hold Bo like this was from relief that his friend was alive, even if he was battered all to hell.
The problem with telling himself that was, he couldn’t make himself believe it. Not when Bo fit so perfectly against his side. Not when the touch of Bo’s hands brought such peace and joy to Max’s heart that he felt almost whole for the first time in his life. Not when parts of his body were starting to rise inappropriately—and not when all he wanted to do was take this man home and wrap him in the softest fabrics and keep him safe from all the evil shit in this world.
The only thing Max could believe was that he…was…so screwed.
Bo felt like shit. Just about every part of him hurt, and all he really wanted was to lie down and sleep until he was healed. Maybe forever, even, since he wasn’t sure he’d ever be completely well again, at least not in his head. The physical injuries would be gone in no time MILES TO GO
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compared to that; the mental recovery seemed insurmountable. He didn’t know if he’d ever feel safe or happy again.
Rory, Annabelle and Chance were huddled together whispering and gesturing. After a minute of concentrating on hearing what they were discussing so intently, he thought he knew what they were trying to figure out—where to put him up. The issue seemed to be whether he’d be better off on the couch or in the guest room. Frankly, Bo didn’t care just then. He wanted to lay down somewhere and go back to sleep, or pretend to, at least. The nightmares made actually sleeping kind of difficult. He started to turn away and crawl back into the truck since nothing had been settled yet. Standing up was just too exhausting at this point.
“Stop before you hurt yourself worse,” Max whispered when Bo started to pull away.
“We’re all being a bunch of dumbasses, ain’t we? Should have had this figured out before you got here. ”
Bo looked into Max’s warm brown eyes and could have wept at the compassion and
regret he found there. Sure, Rory and Chance had been kind, had come when he needed them and been better friends than Bo had a right to expect, but they hadn’t looked at him with such tenderness, only pity, which made Bo want to curl up and die. It almost made Bo wish he’d had the nurse call Max instead, but as awful as Bo looked now, he’d looked even worse then, and he might have been beat to hell but he still had his pride. The idea of the man he was sort of infatuated with seeing him lying bloody and damn near broken in that hospital bed had been too much. Although, what with the kind look in in Max’s eyes, and not a hint of revulsion at Bo’s appearance anywhere to be seen in his expression, maybe he should have just had the nurse call Max instead. It’d have been comforting in a way having Chance and Rory there hadn’t been even though Bo was grateful they came.
“Where do you wanna sleep?” Max asked. Something in his tone made Bo think it
wasn’t the first time Max had asked.
Bo wondered what Max would say to ‘with you’, but since he couldn’t speak without it feeling like his throat was being ripped to shreds, he settled for tipping his head towards the bunkhouse. It was a little further away than Chance’s house, but Bo had just realised something. He didn’t feel nearly as scared standing there with Max. And after all, Max was the only one who’d thought about him, really thought about him just now. The other three MILES TO GO
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were still in there little huddle. There was also the fact that Bo didn’t want to intrude on Chance and Rory any more than he already was.
Max looked past him. “Y’all okay with Bo making his own decision?”
The other two men inclined their heads, and while they didn’t look happy, they didn’t object when Max led Bo to the bunkhouse. The woman—Annabelle, he assumed—started walking towards him and Max.
“We should probably put Bo in the middle bedroom, the one with the pair of twin
beds,” Annabelle said as she stepped up to Bo’s other side. “We could take turns sleeping in there, or I can do it.” She paused as they helped him up the steps. “Or maybe Bo would be more comfortable if you stayed with him.”
Bo felt Max tense beside him. Was it fear, or something else that made him do that? Bo glanced at the man and saw the blush that had darkened his cheeks. Max didn’t look angry, or scared. Maybe it was the pain meds that Bo had taken, but he thought Max would look just like he did now if he were a little turned on. Of course, he’d probably never get to know what Max in the midst of arousal looked like. The man hadn’t responded to any of Bo’s flirting, not the first time they’d met and not when they’d had dinner at Cowboy’s. That just sucked. Bo had taken an instant liking to Max when they’d met, but he’d assumed the man was straight. If he wasn’t, he sure didn’t seem interested in Bo.
“I’ll do it,” Max said in a rough voice as he looked at Bo. “If that’s what you want.”
What Bo wanted was to feel safe again, to not have ever been exposed to the hellish reality that someone could and would hurt him just because of who and what he was. What he wanted was to go back in time and stop himself from going to that club in San Antonio a few nights ago, to not have been so desperate to feel another man’s touch that he’d nearly been killed for it. What he wanted was to know he wasn’t damaged, but he was, and all because he’d been desperate and stupid and looking for a man who’d want him since the one he wanted wasn’t interested.
“Bo? You want a roommate?”
Did he? Bo thought about how scared he was now when he woke up at night, how hard it was for him to even fall asleep. Did he want anyone else around to witness it if he woke up crying or panicking, trying to escape the assault that never seemed to leave his head? He looked at Max, saw the promise in his eyes. Max wouldn’t judge him a coward if he woke up sobbing, or if he was too afraid to sleep.
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“You,” Bo whispered, the word scraping painfully over his raw and damaged throat.
“I’ll go make the beds.” Annabelle scurried inside. Bo barely noticed. He was so tired, and he hurt so fucking bad.
“I’ll stay with you until you’re ready for me not to,” Max said softly.
Bo nodded as his heart did a funny flopping thing in his chest. Maybe he’d had too many pain pills. Or maybe it was just that he thought he might very well never be ready for Max not to be there.
The dim light cast by the lamp on the nightstand softened the bruises marring Bo’s face.
It didn’t matter, though—Max could vividly picture each injury the man had. The damage was more extensive than what Max had thought. When he and Rory had u
ndressed Bo, Max had wanted to weep. Bo’s slight body was covered in dark bruises and painful looking welts.
What had been done to him was inhumane, and the images of that battered body were what was keeping Max from being able to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Bo, imagined the man trying to escape the fists and belts—Max knew what those welts were, he’d had plenty of them himself when he was a kid. Seeing those long, cruel stripes that had been pounded into Bo’s flesh stirred up memories, which was never a good thing in Max’s opinion.
A glance at the alarm clock told Max it was time for another dose of pain meds for Bo.
Max gingerly got out of bed, trying to keep the bedsprings squeaking to a minimum. He nearly laughed at his attempt not to wake Bo—wasn’t he fixing to do just that when he gave him his pills? But it just seemed kinder to wake the man with a gentle touch rather than the sound of metal grinding together.
Max palmed the pills he’d laid out and rose, walking quietly across the few feet that separated their beds. He knelt beside Bo’s bed, worried he’d terrify Bo and bring on memories of the assault if he woke the man while lumbering over him. Max gently brushed a lock of hair off Bo’s sweaty brow, letting his fingers linger on the soft, slick skin.
Bo shifted and moaned piteously, and Max thought his heart would break right then and there. He brushed his fingers over Bo’s brow one more time then brought his hand to Bo’s shoulder.
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“Hey, Bo,” Max whispered. “Time for your pain pills.”
Bo’s breath hitched and he turned his head towards Max. He lifted his arm and flailed his hand, crying out when his knuckles smacked into Max’s chest. Max’s stomach
plummeted and he grasped Bo’s hand with his, clutching it tightly to his chest.
“Bo, wake up, it’s Max.” Bo’s fingers spasmed against Max’s skin, right over his heart, then clenched tightly, catching a handful of Max’s chest hair. Max bit back a hiss and leaned closer to Bo, trying to keep from having his hair ripped out. “Bo, it’s Max, you need to wake up. C’mon, baby—”
Max jerked back at the endearment, wondering where the hell it had come from. He hadn’t ever called anyone ‘baby’ unless there was an actual baby involved. Pain zinged out like a thousand tiny needles were spiking through his chest and calling Bo ‘baby’ suddenly wasn’t so troublesome. I should have slept in sweats and a T-shirt! Or a damned bullet-proof vest!
This is what he got for trying to make sure Bo felt comfortable! Max had felt awkward about being in just his boxers around someone else, but he’d shoved down his reservations because Bo wanted to sleep in his underwear only. He didn’t want Bo to feel weird—or think he was weird. Plus Annabelle had thought the heat needed to be turned up for Bo’s sake.
“Bo—” The fingers pulling his hair tightened and tugged. Max nearly toppled forward onto Bo in his attempt to keep from having a bald patch on his chest. “Bo, God—” Damn it!
That hurt! The fingers causing Max’s torment released him so suddenly Max flopped back on his ass. By the time he managed to scramble back up to his knees, Bo was pushed up on his elbows and looking at him with a mix of confusion and pain in his expression.
“What happened?” Bo rasped.
“Just clumsy,” Max muttered. There was no need to let Bo know he’d damn near snatched Max’s chest bald. “And it’s time for your pain pills.” Max handed the pills over then picked up the bottled water Annabelle had placed beside Bo’s bed earlier. Max opened the bottle and passed it to Bo. Bo popped the pills and sipped at the water.
Max found his gaze darting between Bo’s lips and the slow bobbing of the man’s
Adam’s apple. He didn’t get hard, but it was a near thing. Watching someone drink shouldn’t have been a turn on, should it? Max didn’t know whether it was wrong or not, but it was kind of sexy, and the only reason he didn’t embarrass himself by tenting his boxers was because Bo was so injured.
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“You had enough?” Max asked when Bo lowered the bottle from his lips. At Bo’s nod, Max took the bottle and recapped it. He patted Bo’s shoulder and started to turn back to his own bed only to have Bo grip his wrist. Had he forgotten something? Maybe Bo needed to go to the bathroom, or was hungry. “You need something else?”
“Stay…”
Max started to point out that he was right here, but Bo pulled him forward until Max’s knees were pressed against the side of the bed. Well, it wasn’t like he was going to sleep anyway. Max dropped to his knees beside the bed. If this was what Bo needed to feel safe, then Max would just have to camp out here for the rest of the night.
Except Bo had something else in mind. “Max, please…with me.”
“What?” Max felt too many things at once, too many kinds of fear, but the strongest one was the fear of hurting Bo. “I can’t… Bo I don’t want to hurt you, and yeah, ain’t either of us particularly big men, but that’s still a small bed, and you’re hurt and—”
Bo looked at him with those blackened eyes, and even through the swelling, Max could see the moisture building and threatening to overspill. Fuck it, he’d just have to be extra careful.
“Okay, baby, okay.” Max didn’t even try to stop the endearment from slipping free.
“Let me come up from the foot of the bed, maybe that way I won’t jostle you so much.”
Max carefully crawled into bed and pressed his back against the wall, trying to give Bo as much room as possible. But Bo didn’t seem to want room. He rolled to his side and faced Max, then scooted over the few inches that separated them and burrowed against Max. One of Bo’s hands rested on Max’s hip, and the other was pressed against Max’s chest. Max wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, but eventually he dared to let them rest atop Bo’s, a move that set Max’s heart to fluttering like a cage full of hummingbirds.
Sleep was definitely an impossibility now. Max didn’t want to miss a single moment of this, because it felt so right to have this one man snuggled up close to him. And Max wanted this, he wanted more than this, actually, which meant he had some thinking to do. He couldn’t possibly figure it all out in the few hours he had left before it was time to get to work—but it was a start.
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Chapter Four
It wasn’t the pain that woke Bo up, although he definitely was hurting. The nightmares that had been plaguing him since the assault weren’t the cause, either. In fact, he hadn’t had any dreams at all while he’d been snuggled up to Max. The feel of a stiff, fat dick pressing against his ass, that was what had brought Bo out of his pleasantly blank slumber. Bo considered himself a connoisseur of cock, having sampled plenty of them in his lifetime.
There was no way he could sleep through a prime slab of meat stabbing at his butt, and no way he’d want to.
But even that didn’t feel as good as Max’s arms, one of which was cushioning Bo’s head, the other draped over Bo’s waist. Max’s work-roughened hand was pressed against Bo’s belly, low enough that the side was almost— almost—brushing the tip of Bo’s cock where it was pushing past the elastic waistband of his boxers. One little shimmy, that’s all it would take to feel that warm, sandpapery skin against his aching crown.
Bo didn’t move. As much as he wanted to feel just about any part of Max touching his dick, he didn’t want to wake the man. Then there were Bo’s injuries. Moving at all was going to hurt like hell, and he certainly wasn’t up to delivering on what he’d be promising if he did anything to encourage the man. And, even more of a reason for Bo not to wake Max, was the fact that Bo didn’t know for sure whether or not Max was gay. It wasn’t as if he had ever taken Bo up on any of his previous flirtatious offers. He hadn’t slapped Bo down, either, but that could just be because Max was a nice guy.
The hard, hot cock stabbing at his ass didn’t really
tell Bo anything. Max was asleep, and he could be having some fuck dream about a woman, or several women—or maybe even about Annabelle. Rory’s sister was cute enough, if one went for cute with boobs and a uterus.
That thought wedged itself solidly into Bo’s brain. His bottom lip poked out in a painful pout—the damned thing was all puffy and split from a savage backhand. Bo bit back a wince and tried to scrub the vision of Max and Annabelle from his mind, but it wouldn’t budge.
After all, why else would Annabelle be staying here in the bunkhouse rather than in the big house with her brother?
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But if Max and Annabelle were together, then why the hell was Max in bed with him?
Because Max is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, and I asked him to. Doesn’t mean the guy is interested in anything more, and just because his dick is hard doesn’t mean it’s hard for me. Bo knew the truth of that, just like he knew he had a fine ass that had to feel pretty good to the heavy length pressing against it. He wasn’t exactly vain, but he was aware of his attributes, and his ass was definitely one of his best.
Of course, if Max would just shift his hand down an inch or so, the man would come into contact with another one of Bo’s assets. As if his thoughts had willed it, Max’s hand twitched and nudged Bo’s cockhead. The resulting zing of pleasure that shot through him made Bo tense, which in turn made him gasp as pain speared through his nerve endings.
Max murmured sleepily and buried his face against Bo’s neck. His hand brushed over that sensitive tip again, and Bo shuddered as he hissed, unsure if the pleasure or pain drew the sound from him. Max snuffled and rubbed his dick against Bo’s ass. The friction from that thick shaft thrusting between his cotton-covered cheeks felt so good, and went a long way to distracting Bo from the pain of his injuries.
Love in Xxchange: Miles to Go Page 5
