Love in Xxchange: Miles to Go (7 page)

“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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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.

At least it did until the arm around his waist tightened, stealing Bo’s breath as his bruised ribs and hips protested the embrace. Before he could figure out a way to disentangle himself, and not really sure if he wanted to, Max ground his groin against Bo’s butt and moaned.

If they hadn’t been so swollen, Bo’s eyeballs would have surely popped right out of his head when he felt the first spurt of wet, warm spunk seep through the back of his boxers. His heart thudded heavily in his chest as that damp spot grew with more proof of Max’s release.

As much as he wanted to be flattered, Bo knew Max wasn’t aware of what he was doing. The man was asleep, and rutting against a damn fine ass, and probably dreaming about fucking some lovely woman. Bo refused to think about which woman that might be, choosing to think instead of how Max would react to this when he woke up.

Not well, that was the answer, especially not if the guy was straight. If that was the case, Max could have a definite freak out, and while Bo didn’t believe he would be in any danger at that point, he still didn’t want to experience such a scenario at all. And he really wanted to spare Max from any trauma. The man hadn’t done anything except try to comfort Bo, and he shouldn’t have to be mortified for it.

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Bo only had one idea for how to prevent that, and he really wasn’t too sure it’d work.

Still, it was better than nothing. He just had to make sure Max didn’t wake up before the plan was put into action.

“Ffffuuuuggh! God—” Max came awake in a hail of flailing arms and legs, kicking and swinging, his brain not yet capable of comprehending anything other than the sudden shock to his body. The back of his hand thudded against warm flesh. More cold liquid sloshed onto his groin right before something dropped down and slapped his cock and balls but good.

Max wheezed and tried to curl up, groping at his wet, wounded bits. His forehead smacked into something hard and angular. Pain spiked up his brow. Added to the throbbing in his balls was the clumsy groping of a hand—and it damn sure wasn’t his own. Max yelped just about the time the synapses in his brain started firing.
Bo.

Max’s eyes snapped opened and he found himself looking at a kneecap covered in pale fuzz. He tipped his head back and Bo’s concerned and battered face came into focus. Before he could ask what happened, his groin was scrubbed vigorously. Tearing his gaze from Bo’s face, Max watched the man’s bruised hand swipe at the dripping wet material of Max’s boxers with part of the sheet. An opened water bottle lay in front of Max’s crotch, spilling out the last dregs of the clear liquid.

“Sorry, slipped,” Bo rasped out as he continued rubbing the sheet over Max’s cock and lower belly. Max couldn’t tear his eyes away from the image of that poor hand stroking his shaft, albeit unintentionally, and not in the way that Max wished it would. That particular part of him agreed, twitching and trying to harden.
God, no!

“Stop! Just…stop,” Max gritted out, reaching for Bo’s hand. The last thing he needed to do was humiliate himself by popping a boner right now. And Bo certainly didn’t need it, either. Poor guy had been through more than enough, and he had to feel like shit for dumping that water on Max like he did. Didn’t he? A quick glance at the man made Max wonder—Bo looked…intent, amused, though with all the swelling and discoloration, Max could just be reading Bo’s expression wrong.

Max clamped his fingers around Bo’s wrist and tugged gently. “‘S’okay, just leave it be.”
Please, just leave it!
He fought to keep from tightening his grip as his cock started to fill.

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Bo grunted and swiped at Max’s waistband one last time before his hand stilled. Max started to breathe a sigh of relief as he looked at Bo. He had a split second to wonder at the grin teasing the man’s lips, then Max’s dick was caressed from root to tip. His half-hard shaft perked up fully and Max’s heart nearly burst from his chest. Eyes locked with Bo’s, anticipation and shame warred in Max. Jesus god, he wanted to
feel
Bo touching him, wanted to know what it was like to have another man’s hand on his dick.
Not another man, just Bo.

Just his hand on me…
But what would happen after that?

“B-Bo,” he pleaded, not sure what he was asking for even as he spoke. He tried to determine if Bo was mocking him; it was so hard to tell with the bruising and swelling, but it was too late. Bo was cupping him through the thin, damp cotton, and now Max’s humiliation was complete.

Or so he thought, but he’d never been a particularly bright person in the morning. The bedroom door flew open without any warning and Annabelle stuck her head in the room.

“Is everything all…” Annabelle’s eyes widened so much, Max wondered how they kept from shooting out of the sockets. “Oh. Oh! I’ll just…leave now.” She started to do just that, her head nearly disappearing before she poked it back through. This time she didn’t look so shocked, only confused and concerned. “Do you really think Bo’s up to that just yet? He might be loopy from the pain meds. I’m just saying.” Annabelle shot Max a narrow-eyed look before vanishing and shutting the door firmly as she did so.

“Ah, god.” Max closed his eyes as his erection melted faster than a stick of butter in the hot Texas sun. His skin was burning with the intensity of his embarrassment, and all he wanted to do was crawl under the bed and hide for a decade or two. Spontaneous

combustion would work, too. As if he hadn’t been utterly confused before, he now had to figure out how to convince Annabelle he wasn’t some dirty horny dog who couldn’t control himself. She thought
he’d
started this? Had he? After all, he was the one who’d popped wood. Bo had just been trying to help…

“Max, don’t worry about it,” Bo whispered in his sandpaper-rough voice. “You weren’t awake, and I was grabbing at you.” Bo sighed heavily as if the words had cost him a great effort. Max knew they must have what with the damage done to the poor man’s throat.

Before he could think of a suitable reply, the alarm clock blared. Max was used to the obnoxiously loud racket, but Bo, not so much. He squeaked and jumped and teetered at the MILES TO GO

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edge of the bed. Max’s hand shot out before he could think about it, grabbing on to the man’s pale, lean biceps.

“I gotcha,” Max soothed when Bo yelped again. “I ain’t gonna let you fall.” Keeping his grip on Bo, Max sat up so he could use both hands to steady Bo. Once he was sure the man wouldn’t topple off the bed, Max gathered his dignity—there wasn’t much of it left at this point—and scooted off the foot of the mattress. Water trickled down the insides of his thighs when he stood, which just felt a little dirty. It did
not
feel erotic or make him fantasise, not even for a minute, about something else running down over his skin.

“Damn it,” Max muttered. At this rate he was going to be a walking erection. “Let’s get you moved to the other bed, and then it’s time for more pain pills for you.” Maybe, if he had any sort of luck at all, those pills would wash the memories of this morning’s events right out of Bo’s mind.