chapter THIRTY #2
This time is different from last night's frantic fucking.
Slower, more deliberate, with a tenderness that threatens to break something open inside me.
Bo maintains eye contact as he moves inside me, each thrust measured and deep.
His gaze is so intense, so focused on my pleasure, that I almost have to look away.
But I don't. I hold his gaze, letting him see the effect he has on me, the vulnerability I usually keep hidden beneath layers of control and command.
"God, you're beautiful," he murmurs, one hand cupping my face. His thumb traces my lower lip, and I catch it between my teeth, nipping lightly.
His rhythm falters at the small act of playfulness, his eyes darkening with renewed desire. "Careful, darlin'. My restraint only goes so far."
"Maybe I don't want your restraint." I rock my hips up to meet his, taking him deeper. "Maybe I want all of you."
A low growl escapes him, something possessive and primal that sends shivers down my spine. His next thrust is harder, deeper, setting a new pace that makes my toes curl.
"Like that?" His Southern drawl thickens with arousal, turning the simple question into something deliciously dirty.
"Yes," I gasp, fingers digging into his hair. "Just like that."
Bo takes me at my word, his controlled pace giving way to something more urgent.
He shifts my leg higher around his back with one hand, angling me to hit exactly the right spot, as he braces against the headboard with the other.
Each thrust pushes me closer to the edge, pleasure building in spiraling waves.
"Come for me, Reese," he urges, his voice rough with exertion. "Mark me with your scent before I mark you with mine."
His command, dominant without the aggression that usually comes with it from Alphas, pushes me over the edge. My orgasm crashes through me, intense and overwhelming. I cry out his name, curling up against him as my body clenches around his swollen cock.
"Good girl," he breathes. "Now relax and let me take care of the rest."
Before I can ask what he means, he's flipping us over, moving us with a speed and strength that's surprising and exciting all at once. Then his hands are gripping my hips, holding me in place as he fucks up into me, his powerful strokes sending aftershocks rippling through my core.
"Fuck," he groans, his head falling back against the pillow. "You feel so damn good. So wet and tight around me."
The praise is heady, spurring me to take charge. I lean forward, bracing my palms against his chest, and meet his gaze with a challenging one of my own.
"Is that all you've got?"
His answering smile is wicked. "Oh, darlin'. I haven't even started."
One large hand slides up my torso to cup my breast, his thumb rolling across the nipple. Then his hips surge upward, hard and deep, and the breath goes out of me. He repeats the movement, pinching my nipple as he thrusts again.
Pleasure spikes through me, sharp and intense, and my body responds automatically. I start to move, rocking my hips to meet his.
"Fuck yes." Bo's voice is low, his eyes blazing with a heat that could rival the sun. "Ride me, sweetheart. Ride me like you did last night."
The request is impossible to deny. I ride him, matching the rhythm he set, grinding against him until my muscles burn with exertion.
He keeps his grip on my breast, his other hand digging into my hip as he thrusts upward.
Bo might be the epitome of the Southern Gentleman, but there's nothing gentle about the way he fucks.
"I'm close," he groans, his head tilting back. "Touch yourself for me. I want to feel you come while I'm buried inside you."
His words push me toward the edge. I slip a hand between us, finding the spot that aches for his touch, and begin to stroke.
"That's it, sweetheart." His hips surge up again. "Come for me again. Give me one more."
He's so big, so thick and hard inside me, and the friction of his movements coupled with my own touch is too much to resist. I come with a low moan, clenching around him, and his name on my lips.
"Reese," he groans, the sound low and feral.
"Please," I breathe. "Bo, please. Come for me."
It's the final straw. He growls low in his throat, his grip on my hip tightening as he drives into me, again and again. Then his body tenses beneath mine and he pulls me down to meet his last, deep thrust, his cock pulsing as he spills into me.
I collapse against his chest, breathing hard. He holds me close, his arms tight around my waist, as we both recover from the intensity. After a few minutes, his hand finds the back of my head, stroking through my sweat-dampened hair.
"That," he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead, "is how you say good morning."
I laugh, the sound unfamiliar after so many days of tension and secrets. "Noted for future reference."
The casual implication of future mornings together hangs between us, neither acknowledged nor dismissed. Just allowed to exist as a possibility.
"What time is check-out?" he asks, hand tracing lazy patterns on my back.
I glance at the bedside clock. "Eleven. We've got about two hours."
"Plenty of time for a shower, then." His lips find my temple, pressing a gentle kiss there. "You go first. I'll strip the bed."
The practical suggestion, so perfectly Bo, makes me smile. Even after a night and morning of wild sex, he's still the caretaker, the one who thinks of the details.
"Such a gentleman," I tease, reluctantly extracting myself from his hold.
"My mama raised me right." He grins, unashamed of his Southern manners even while naked and thoroughly debauched.
I slip from the bed, suddenly aware of my nudity in the morning light. Last night, everything happened in shadows and urgency. Now, I feel unexpectedly shy as Bo's gaze travels appreciatively over my body.
"Beautiful," he says simply, as if stating an obvious fact.
I feel my cheeks heat. "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you want to pull me back into that bed."
His grin turns wolfish. "Maybe I do."
I grab my toiletry bag and retreat to the bathroom before I can succumb to the temptation in his eyes.
The mirror reveals the evidence of our night together—hair a tangled mess, lips swollen from kisses, faint marks on my hips where Bo's fingers dug in during particularly intense moments.
I look thoroughly claimed, despite the absence of a bonding bite.
The shower feels heavenly, hot water burning away the physical remnants of the night. But it can't wash away the memory of Bo's touch, his taste, the way he looked at me like I was something precious. Something worth protecting.
I've never been good at vulnerability. Growing up in a family of Alphas meant learning to conceal any perceived weakness, to project strength even when I felt anything but strong. An Omega daughter was already a disappointment. An emotional one would have been intolerable.
But Bo saw through my defenses from the beginning. Recognized the walls for what they were and respected them anyway. Until I invited him past them.
The thought is terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.
When I emerge from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, Bo has indeed stripped the bed, bundling the evidence of our night together discreetly. The room smells faintly of sex and Alpha, but he's opened the window to air it out.
"All yours," I say, gesturing to the bathroom.
"You, or the bathroom," he asks with a cocky grin.
"The bathroom. For now."
The implication hangs between us, neither of us acknowledging it, but not outright rejecting it, either.
He crosses to me, pausing to drop a casual kiss on my lips before disappearing into the shower.
The easy intimacy of the gesture catches me off guard.
This is what people do when they're together.
When they're something to each other. And some part of me doesn’t hate it.
I dress quickly in comfortable clothes for the ride back to campus, dry my hair, and begin packing my things. The routine tasks help ground me in practicality, pushing away the more complicated questions lurking at the edges of my mind.
What happens when we get back to campus? Will Bo expect something more from me? Do I want something more from him? And what about the others—Gray's possessive glances, Cameron's quiet intensity, the way Beckett's flirtation sometimes carries genuine heat beneath it?
The bathroom door opens, releasing a cloud of steam. Bo emerges with a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets clinging to his broad shoulders. My body responds immediately, heat flaring despite our recent activities.
"Feel better?" he asks, seemingly oblivious to my reaction.
"Much." I focus on folding a shirt with unnecessary intensity. "You?"
"Can't complain." He drops the towel without warning, revealing his perfectly sculpted body as he reaches for his clothes.
I shouldn't stare. I've seen him naked multiple times in the past twelve hours. Touched every inch of that golden skin. But the casual confidence of his nudity still steals my breath.
"Like what you see, darlin'?" he drawls, catching me looking.
I throw the shirt at him. "Just making sure you're not hiding any injuries. Responsible coxswain and all that."
He laughs, the sound warming me from the inside out. "Very responsible," he agrees, pulling on boxers and jeans. "Thorough, even."
The easy banter helps dispel some of the morning-after awkwardness. By the time we finish packing, the tension has transformed into something more comfortable—a shared secret, a private connection.
My phone buzzes with a text from Gray: Team meeting in 30 minutes. Lobby. Status update required.
The real world, intruding on our bubble of intimacy. I show Bo the message.
"Status update," he reads, brow furrowing slightly. "Well, that's one way to ask if you survived the night."
"Gray's nothing if not tactful," I say dryly.