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acknowledge. It scared him and thrilled him every time he saw Bo, and Max wasn’t quite sure what to do about that.
Truly, the only time he didn’t feel like a ball of ragged nerves around Bo was when they went to bed. After that first night together, Max had decided it’d be better to push the twin beds together. More room for them both if Bo had another nightmare and Max ended up in bed with him. Not that it made any difference. They always woke in the morning tangled together some way or another, usually right on the seam where the two beds pressed together. It was the most uncomfortable spot to sleep on, but worth it to feel Bo’s warm body draped over his.
The porch light was on, which meant Max had to bat away a slew of June bugs and
moths. There were other flying critters that he didn’t bother trying to identify. Some things were best left unknown. The tarantula Annabelle had nicknamed Fred was hanging on the lower part of the screen door. Those hairy things were creepy as all get out, and even though they weren’t poisonous, Max was certain he’d have a heart attack and keel over if one ever bit him.
Carefully edging his way to the door handle, Max kept a close eye on Fred as he slipped inside the house. Tarantulas could jump, and Max didn’t trust Fred at all. He’d take the can of Raid to that spider—not to spray it, but to beat it to death with—if he didn’t think Annabelle would have his balls for it.
Max breathed a sigh of relief when he closed the door behind him. Fred was still on the outside of the screen. He didn’t have to worry about death by freaky spider tonight.
“Rough day?” The words were spoken with a painful sounding rasp.
Max yelped in surprise. Bo was sitting on the battered couch just inside the bunkhouse.
This was the first time the man had really been out of bed, and he’d damned near managed to accomplish what Fred hadn’t. Max’s heart was pounding in his chest like it was trying to rip free from his body.
“You could say that,” Max replied a little breathlessly. Bo was shirtless, which accounted for Max’s asthmatic impersonation. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen the man in such a state of undress, and it always did this to him. Even badly bruised, Bo was still the most attractive person Max had ever seen.
Guess that explains why I was never much interested in girls. Women, excuse me, Ms Steinem.
Doesn’t explain why I ain’t felt like this about any other men though. Max had thought he was MILES TO GO
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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 ever been.”
Max bit his lip and was grateful he hadn’t tried to tell Bo to look elsewhere. Bo h
ad a point; after all, he’d met Chance on the rodeo circuit, and Bo had to have been more places than Max could ever imagine.
“So I’m at this club and I’m just not into it, but I keep hanging around because—well, it’s what I’ve done for years. Then this one guy catches my eye. He wasn’t exactly attractive, he wasn’t ugly. He was just…there was something about him that kind of scared me.
Sometimes…sometimes when I’ve been attracted to a guy, it’s felt like that, like icy fingers tracing my spine and flicking my heart into high gear. So maybe I’ve picked dangerous guys before, or maybe I confused arousal with some internal warning system, I don’t know.” Bo shifted a bit and huffed softly. “All I can say for sure was, I was an idiot.”
Max couldn’t stop himself from reaching for Bo’s hand. He cradled it gently as Bo looked at him. “No, you don’t take the blame for what that asshole did. You didn’t ask him to hurt you.”
Bo’s right eyebrow twitched. “Are you sure about that, Max? Maybe I like it rough.”
Max growled as he gritted his teeth so hard his jaw throbbed. “I’m sure, but why you’re trying to piss me off is beyond me.”
Bo pulled his hand away and rubbed at his forehead. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You just seem to have so much faith in me and it’s misplaced, Max. I’m not a good person.”
Max didn’t agree. Sure, Bo had to have made some mistakes in his life, maybe even a lot of mistakes, but that didn’t mean he was a bad person. “I don’t think it is. I think you are a good person. A bad one wouldn’t judge him or herself as harshly as you seem to be doing.”
“Right.” Bo dropped his hand to his lap and leaned his head back. “Well, me, good person that I am, decided to let this crazy-eyed fucker lead me out into the alley, where he proceeded to pin me to the wall and choke me. I thought I was dead then.” Bo shuddered and laid his hand on the cushion between them, turning it palm up. Max hoped he was reading it right, and he placed his hand in Bo’s, relieved when the man’s fingers slipped between his. “Next thing I know I’m alive and naked. And before you ask, no, the guy didn’t MILES TO GO
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rape me or anything like that. Turns out he was one of the bashers we all fear encountering.
The only thing he did with my private parts was hurt them, either with his boots or his belt. I tried to fight back, I did.”
Tears slipped down Bo’s cheeks and Max couldn’t stand it. He moved slowly but
unerringly over until he could slip an arm around Bo’s shoulders. Bo sobbed softly and turned into Max, looping an arm around his middle. “He wouldn’t stop,” Bo stuttered out.
“Then he was choking me again…”
Max closed his eyes as he held Bo and gently caressed his back. He didn’t let himself think about what he was doing, or why, all he did was hold Bo, and he’d keep on holding him as long as Bo needed him to.
“What are you doing to Max?”
Bo jerked awake, the top of his head smacking into something hard and a little fleshy.
“Ow!”
“Shit!” Chance flailed his arms and tumbled onto his butt. Only the fact that he managed to grab the wooden rail kept him from falling down the porch steps. Bo squirmed before he thought about it—his ass had gone numb. Maybe the bench on the bunkhouse porch wasn’t the best place to take a nap. It was a little nippy outside, but the sun was shining and he hadn’t meant to conk out.
Bo looked at Chance. The man appeared to be more than a little pissed off. “Sorry.”
Though really, Chance shouldn’t have sneaked up on him like that.
Chance rubbed at his chin, glaring at Bo as he did so. “I shouldn’t have gotten so close.”
No shit. Bo rubbed at the goose egg on his head then let his hand drop. What difference did another bump make? He’d healed a lot over the past week and a half, but he still looked like cold shit.
“So.” Chance pushed himself up but kept his distance. “What are you doing to Max?”
Bo forgot the advice Rory had given him the first time they met, about not trying to look cute and coy at his age. Glancing up through his lashes at Chance, he used his most innocent voice. It was a stretch. “What do you mean?”
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“I mean, what are you doing that’s turning my foreman into a bumbling, stumbling mess?” Chance threw his hands in the air then started pacing back and forth in front of the bench. “And he’s bitchier than a momma dog guarding her pups. I swear, he’d as soon snap at you than say hello, and that isn’t Max.” Chance stopped and pivoted, facing Bo once again.
One big rough finger extended out to point at Bo, and he figured he was lucky it was the index finger. “Max is all smiles and laid back and ‘how ya doin’ boss?’ So what have you done to turn him into the anti-Max?”
Obviously the innocent act wasn’t going to work. “I haven’t done anything to him. I swear!” Bo tacked on the last two words to counteract the accusing look from Chance.
Chance’s face darkened with anger. Well, now what? Why is it telling the truth only makes things worse?
“Are you messing with him?”
Bo kind of was, but not in the way Chance meant. “I haven’t touched him, except when we’re in bed and—”
“What?” Oh damn, Chance looked like he might pop an artery. “What do you mean,
except when y’all are in bed? I swear, Bo, I’m ready to…”
If Bo had to bet on what the rest of that sentence would have been, he’d have gone with
‘knock the shit out of you’. Even though it went unsaid, he still couldn’t keep from cringing.
Chance cursed and dropped down beside Bo on the bench. “Shit, Bo, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“Sure, okay,” Bo agreed, but he wasn’t able to keep from flinching when Chance
reached out to touch his shoulder. Chance went an unattractive shade of white, his expression guilt-laden. He couldn’t feel any worse than Bo did about this whole clusterfuck.
“I have nightmares about it.” The words burst from Bo before he could stop them.
Chance made a rumbling sound beside him, but Bo couldn’t look at the man, couldn’t bear to see pity in his eyes. He kept his gaze focussed on his hands folded in his lap. “I asked him if we could sleep in his bed because the twin bed is too small, and pushing them together didn’t work so well. I haven’t done anything.” Now Bo did look up at Chance, because if the man was going to get mad, this would be what did it—and it’d probably distract Chance from the whole nightmare confession. “But I really, really want to.”
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Being good was driving him nuts, but Max was skittish as a virgin and those were something Bo hadn’t any experience with. He could barely even remember losing his own virginity. Didn’t want to, really, because he’d been too young and too scared.
Chance groaned and slumped down further on the bench, his broad shoulders scraping against the rough exterior of the bunkhouse. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as if warding off a headache. “Bo, I don’t even think Max is gay, okay?
Maybe you should come stay at the big house with me and Rory.”
Bo barely kept from stomping his foot and throwing a tantrum. It’d hurt way too much, and Chance would probably move him out of the bunkhouse in five minutes flat. He glanced around to make sure no one had managed to sneak up on them. Relatively sure it was safe, Bo turned to Chance. “He kind of rubbed off on me several days ago. Does that make him gay enough for you?”
“Oh god,” Chance muttered and reached to rub at his temples instead. “What… How—
no, no I don’t want to know that one!”
Chance looked near to breaking, rubbing his temples so hard Bo expected to see smoke slipping between his fingertips. “So you’re telling me that Max is gay, and that he, you
know.
On you.”
The giggle slipped out without warning. Here sat a man who’d had his cock up Bo’s ass and down his throat on more than one occasion, even if it had been years ago, and he couldn’t even say ‘rubbed off’?
Chance dropped his hands down to the bench and glared daggers at Bo. “It’s not
fucking funny, Bo.”
“Yeah, it is,” Bo teased. A flummoxed Chance was always sexy, and while Bo wouldn’t poach—Rory would finish the job the man from the club had started if Bo even so much as tried to seduce Chance—he could still enjoy the view. “If it helps, he did it in his sleep. I dumped a bottle of water on him to wash away the evidence so he didn’t die of
embarrassment.” He so could be thoughtful and considerate when he wanted to.
Chance’s eyes couldn’t possibly get any bigger. His laugh, when it came, was every bit as sexy as his confusion. “Oh damn, I’d have liked to see that!”
And just like that, Bo felt lower than dirt for sharing something that would absolutely mortify Max. “Don’t laugh, he’d be really upset if he knew what he’d done.”
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“Yeah,” Chance rasped out as he swiped at his eyes. “It isn’t funny, I guess.” He took a couple of shaky breaths then shook his head. “But that doesn’t really count, if he was asleep.
Doesn’t make him gay, just a typical man rubbing his dick against something that feels good.
Had to be your ass, right?”
“Like you even have to ask,” Bo muttered, pouting just a bit. If it looked ridiculous on a man his age, oh friggin’ well.
“I really think you ought to come stay with us before something happens and one or both of you gets hurt.” Chance was using his reasonable, we’re-all-grownups-here voice that always made Bo want to roll his eyes. But he could do mature.
“I want to stay here.” So what if his mature sounded more like petulant? He was hurt, and now with Chance trying to force him away from Max, that hurt wasn’t purely physical.
Love in Xxchange: Miles to Go Page 7
