Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
CHELSEA
My flight landed twenty minutes ago, but it took forever for us to disembark.
I didn’t check any luggage, so I make my way to Arrivals to wait for Bo.
We talked again last night after his game, and I gave him my flight details.
But I haven’t stopped thinking about our conversation the night before his game.
Thinking about him jerking off to my picture …
turns me on. I was hoping for more flirting when I talked to him last night, but he was so tired; he practically fell asleep while we were talking.
Plus, I had to get up early to make my flight back here, so our conversation was short.
As the escalator goes down, I pull out my phone from my bag and send a quick text to my aunt to let her know I got home safely.
Then I text Bo to let him know I’m on my way down.
When I get near the bottom, I look up and see Bo standing there.
His hands are in his jean pockets, and he’s wearing a tight black T-shirt and a baseball hat with the Walker logo on it.
When he sees me, a smile breaks across his face.
Good Lord is he gorgeous.
He removes one hand from his pocket and waves, then walks toward me. When I reach him, he pulls me in for a hug.
“Hey. Did you have a good flight?”
“Yeah, it was uneventful, thankfully. Thanks for coming to get me.” I pull back from him.
He reaches for the bag on my shoulder and slides it off my arm before hoisting it onto his. “Of course. I couldn’t wait to see you.” He looks down at me and smiles.
“I’m happy to see you too.”
He shifts my bag to his other shoulder and then reaches for my hand. The feeling of my hand in his should feel foreign to me, but it doesn’t. His hand is big and warm, and I can feel the rough calluses on his palm, but mostly, it just feels comfortable. Like it’s something we’ve always done.
“Are you hungry? We could stop and get something to eat on our way back, or we can eat at the house.”
We walk out of the doors and toward the parking garage.
“I’m a little hungry, but I can wait until we get to your house. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind a shower. I always feel gross after traveling.” I scrunch my nose.
“All right, to the house it is. I’m sure we have stuff to eat, and if not, we can order food in. I can take care of that while you shower or something.”
He releases my hand and puts his on the small of my back when we reach his SUV. Then he opens the door for me and closes it when I’m in.
He rounds the back of the car, opens the back door, and sets my bag on the floor behind the driver’s side, then gets in. This is the first time I’ve been in his car. It smells like him, and it’s sleek with black leather seats and trim.
It’s not the first time I’ve been near him, and yet this time, it feels like we’re on top of each other—in the best possible way.
The energy in the car is thick, almost electric.
Whatever we are, whatever this is, our relationship has shifted into something new.
It’s still easy and playful, but there’s this heat now—this low, constant hum of awareness between us.
I’m torn between asking him about his day, telling him something funny from the weekend, or just making him pull over so we can have a ridiculously heavy make-out session on the side of the road.
Once we’re on the road, he reaches over and takes my hand in his, pausing my internal dispute. “So, tell me about the airboat ride. I was crashing hard last night. I’m sorry you didn’t get to tell me about it.”
“It was good. My sister had a blast, so that’s all that matters.”
And it really was okay. Torie and her friends loved riding through the swamp and catching sight of some pretty big gators.
I tell him more about it, and then he tells me more about his game yesterday.
Before we know it, we’re back at his house.
We walk into the house, and Bo has my bag over his shoulder.
“I’ll go put this in my room and get you a towel for your shower. Help yourself to anything you find in the kitchen,” he says over his shoulder.
I take off my shoes and set them by the door, then walk into the kitchen and open the fridge to see what they have, but I’m still not very hungry, so I just grab a bottle of water and lean against the counter.
The house is quiet, and I didn’t see Casey’s or Noelle’s cars outside, and I don’t hear Silas or Charlie, so I wonder if we’re alone.
We haven’t been here alone together. It makes me feel a little anxious, but also …
excited. Not that I expect anything to happen between us.
Bo walks over toward the door and takes his shoes off, then comes into the kitchen.
Okay, so as it turns out, the horny part of me is winning over the conversational one because looking at him in his tight-fitted shirt, which showcases his gorgeous body, is making me salivate … and not for food.
“Find anything in here to eat?” he asks.
I let out a shaky breath, completely surprised by my behavior. I don’t get shy around guys. If I want to hook up, I do. When I’m ready to walk away, I do.
Bo is just a guy.
So, why does he make my heart race like this?
“I think I can wait awhile. I’ll probably just go take my shower, if that’s okay?” I push off the counter and move to walk by him when he reaches for me.
“You okay?” He takes my hand in his and rubs his thumb over the top of it.
“Oh, yeah, I’m good. I’m a little tired, I guess. It was a busy weekend.” Maybe he senses my anxiousness, so I try to seem more relaxed than the butterflies floating around in my belly. I place my other hand on top of his. “Can I get a towel?”
“I set one on my bed for you.” He studies my face for a minute. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
As we look at each other, I think about what my aunt said to me this weekend about opening myself up to someone.
For me, I think a lot of my reluctance or …
I guess I’ll just admit it … my fear about letting myself be vulnerable or falling hard for someone is because my parents’ relationship was so volatile.
They were fire and passion and drama and violence.
They didn’t set a good example, so I don’t really know what a healthy relationship between a man and a woman looks like in real life.
My parents were so consumed and obsessed—with each other and their addictions—that they couldn’t care about anything else.
And I’ve never wanted to feel that … out of control.
But standing here, looking at this beautiful man, I make the decision that I want to try to let this, us, happen.
I release his hand, and in a bold move, I lean up and kiss his cheek. My lips linger seconds as I take in the salt of his skin and the wildly sexy smell of his sandalwood bodywash.
“Thank you,” I say as I pull back and lick my lips.
As I walk away, I can feel his eyes on me.
I grab some clothes and the towel from his room and then take a quick shower. I put on my favorite pair of loose cotton pants, a bra, and a nearly threadbare T-shirt. It’s one of my favorites, and I’ll keep it until it falls apart. My hair is wet, so I twist it into a knot at the top of my head.
When I’m done, I walk into his room and see him lying on his bed. He changed into gym shorts and took his hat off. It’s insane how I find him in a pair of mesh shorts so damn delectable. His feet are bare and crossed at the ankles. The TV is playing an NFL game.
He looks up, and his eyes widen as he takes in my T-shirt, which is quite thin, and there’s a solid chance my nipples are showing through. He takes a deep inhale.
I nod toward the screen. “Did you just get this TV? It wasn’t in here before.”
“I had it in my closet, but never set it up. I don’t know why I didn’t think about it until now. I should have connected it before the first night you stayed in here. Sorry about that.” He swings his legs to the side, and his feet touch the carpet.
“Oh, no worries. I didn’t really need one.” I’m still standing near the doorway, holding my things. I see he moved my bag to the floor in front of the dresser, so I walk over, bend down, and start to put my dirty clothes into my bag.
“You can leave your shower stuff in the bathroom. Noelle has some of her things in there. It doesn’t bother us. And you can wash your clothes from your trip.” He stands and walks toward me.
“Okay, I probably will, but I don’t want to deal with it today,” I say as I stand. “Did you eat something, or do you want to watch the game for a bit first?”
A curl falls out of my bun, and he reaches out to tuck it behind my ear, then rests his hand on my shoulder.
“Not yet. I’ll wait for you to eat, so just tell me when you get hungry.”
“Okay,” I say a little breathlessly.
There’s definitely tension in the air, heightened by the fact that I know we’re alone.
“Chelsea”—he leans in and traces a path down my arm to my hip—“do you know how bad I’ve wanted to kiss you since that first night in the hall?
” He squeezes my hip. “Will you let me kiss you, Chelsea?” He presses in closer.
“I can’t walk away again without tasting you.
” He brings his hand up to my neck and wraps it around. “Just one kiss.”
“Yes.” The word is barely out of my mouth before his lips are on mine. But it’s not a rushed kiss. It’s slow and deliberate. Savoring.
I need more.
I lift up on my toes and wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him in closer. When I part my mouth for him, the kiss deepens, his tongue stroking mine, like he’s memorizing my taste, making heat simmer low in my belly.