Chapter 8 #3
He takes a drink and nods. “Yeah, right before I texted you. They gave me a room to myself tonight, which I don’t mind because I get to talk to you now.” He smirks.
“Ahh, well, getting special treatment is quite nice.” I laugh.
He places his hand on his bare chest. “I’m not gonna complain.”
“What time do you get up in the morning? Your game is at one, right?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’ll probably get up around six, but we don’t have to be downstairs for breakfast until eight. After breakfast, we head to the field and start preparing for the game.”
“Oh, wow. I didn’t realize you go that early to the field.”
He nods. “Yep, even if we weren’t at a hotel, we would still be required to be there a few hours before.”
We talk a little more about the game-time process, which I find fascinating. The way they have to mentally prepare is something I guess I never really considered.
He yawns, which makes me look at the time.
“You should probably get to bed, huh?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “Not yet. I want to talk to you, unless you want to go.”
I smile. “I’m good. I just don’t want to be blamed if you’re tired tomorrow.”
“Nah, I’ll be fine. What are you doing tomorrow? Do you know yet?” He moves his arm behind his head, laying on it.
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Yes, we’re going on an airboat ride with my sister and her friends.”
“No way! That’s cool. I’ve never been on one.” He laughs. “You don’t look excited.”
I sit up, leaning against the headboard, making my loose T-shirt slide off my shoulder, and prop my phone on my legs. “I mean, it’s fun, but not something I ever wanted to do again.”
“Why not?” He has an adorable, crooked smile on his face.
I glance toward the window, watching the palm trees blur together for a moment before I answer, “Mostly because I can’t hear well for days after, even though they give you headphones. And my hair …” I point to the two braids.
“You look really cute with the braids. I was going to say something when we got on actually.” He bites his lip.
Why is that so hot?
“I like the shirt too, by the way.” He grins.
“You do, huh?” I pull the shirt up my shoulder a little.
“Oh, don’t do that. I want to picture you just like that as I fall asleep,” he says in a gravelly voice.
“Are you flirting with me?” I tilt my head, smiling.
“Yes.” His smirk is slow, deliberate.
“Good.” I shift again and lie back down on my pillows, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach.
His eyes are dark, intent, even on the screen.
His lips part slightly, and his gaze lingers like he’s memorizing me.
There’s a heat there that makes my pulse race—something intimate, something that feels like it’s only for me.
My chest tightens, and I know whatever he’s about to say will make me forget everything else.
“Chelsea, I’m just gonna put it all out there. I want you.”
I suck in a breath, not expecting him to say that.
“I mean …” He runs a hand over his jaw, the crooked smile on his face softening into something real. “I want to date you.”
“So, you don’t want me? You just want to date me?” I tease.
His eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “No! I mean, yes. I want to date you, but, yes, I most definitely want you too.” He has a serious look on his face. “I really like you. I’m crazy attracted to you, but I really like you as a person too. And I’m hoping you feel the same.”
“I feel the same.” I can’t lie.
His confidence in himself, him telling me all of this, is turning me on. Big time.
“Really?” A slow, sexy smile spreads on his face.
I smile and nod. “Yes, really.”
I take a breath, letting my pulse settle, and admit quietly, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”
“While my charming disposition is definitely what won you over, I know it’s my body you want. Namely the abs,” he jokes, but the flicker in his eyes tells me we both know there’s truth under the teasing.
“The looks are … well, let’s just say, you’re more than easy on the eyes.”
His expression shifts; playful melts into something darker. “Can I tell you something?” He looks at me with heat in his eyes. “The other night, when you went to bed, and we ran into each other in the hall?”
I swallow, the memory sending a shiver through me, and nod.
“I wanted to push you up against the wall and devour you. Then I wanted to carry you into my room and lay you out on my bed. Fuck.” He tilts his head back, jaw tight, then looks at me again.
“If you had kissed me …” I trail off, my voice low, teasing. “I don’t know if we would have made it to the bedroom.”
He grins, dark and knowing. “Damn. I should have kissed you, but I wasn’t sure if you were as attracted to me as I was to you.”
I smirk, leaning a little closer to the camera. “I could definitely tell by the bulge in your shorts that you were into me. And I wasn’t turned off by it. In fact … I was wondering exactly what you had going on underneath those shorts.”
He bites his lip, a slow, dangerous smile spreading. “Is that so?”
I shrug, trying to look casual, but the heat crawling through me gives me away. “Maybe. But I think you already know the answer.”
His voice drops slightly, rougher now, and I can almost feel the weight of him through the screen. “Knowing that you’ve been sleeping in my bed is making me lose my mind. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you either,” I say softly. My tone drops low, the kind of voice that hints at exactly how much I’ve been thinking about him.
I imagine running my hands over his hard chest, feeling every muscle, every divot of that perfectly sculpted body beneath my fingertips. My hands would glide lower to his thighs, tracing the strength there, so taut and powerful.
I imagine straddling him, hips pressing against him, mounting Bo and riding him, feeling every inch, making me shiver.
He must be imagining the same thing because he lets out a deep groan. “Fuck … now I’m hard,” he hisses.
“Because of me saying I can’t stop thinking about you?” I smile, a little smug.
“Yes,” he says bluntly, eyes dark and intent. “I want more than to kiss you, Chelsea. Like I said, I want to devour you.”
I’m getting wet just at the sound of his voice and the picture he’s painting of devouring me. I want him—desperately. On my lips. On my skin. On my clit.
I know if I asked him for phone sex right now, he’d be game. Bo is unabashedly honest, unapologetically himself, and up for anything.
He’s also fire and intensity … all the things that can lead to chaos if I’m not careful. But instead of fearing it, there’s a pull I can’t shake.
My aunt’s words echo in my head. “… it’s time you started taking some chances.”
As much as I want to hear the sound of his words all night and have him unravel me, I force myself to pause. At least for tonight.
“Well, you should probably go take care of that then. And I”—I roll over to turn off my light—“should go to sleep.”
When I turn back to the camera, he moves his fingers over the screen in a telltale shape.
“Did you just take a screenshot of me?” I giggle.
“I did. So I can go take care of my hard-on.” He winks at me, and a wave of heat runs right down my body to my center. “One more thing. Did you drive to the airport or get a ride?”
“I took an Uber. Why?”
“Perfect. I’ll come pick you up on Sunday, and we can hang out.” He says it like there’s no alternative. And I like it.
I smile, and he smiles back.
“Okay, that works.”
His smile grows wider. “Good. Looking forward to it. Night, Chelsea.”
“Night, Bo.” I smile and shake my head slightly, then end the call.