by Ally Blue
A relationship. That’s what he was considering with Bo. He’d never been involved in a real relationship before. Even his family had always kept him at arm’s length, and he’d never been with any single lover for more than an occasional no-strings fuck.
The implications of what he was thinking hit him like a blow to the gut, curdling his insides with a blend of anticipation and paralyzing fear.
Sam pushed his half-eaten spaghetti away, his appetite gone. Bo turned a worried gaze his way. “Sam, you all right? You look pale.”
Sam forced a smile. “I always look pale, it’s my coloring.”
“What Mr. Tactful is trying to say,” David said around a mouthful of garlic bread, “is that you look green. Don’t puke at the table, huh?”
Cecile smacked David’s arm. He gave her a questioning look. She frowned at him, then turned to Sam. “You do look kind of sick, Sam, are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Sam answered, more harshly than he’d intended. “I’m just full, that’s all.”
Cecile blinked and turned back to her plate, clearly taken aback by the way Sam had snapped at her. Sam was instantly contrite, but didn’t say anything. He felt distinctly uncomfortable under the weight of well-meaning concern from the rest of the group.
Bo cleared his throat. “Andre, did you and David get done watching the video from last night?”
Andre glanced at Sam before answering. Sam gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He breathed a sigh of relief when Andre smiled back and turned his attention to Bo.
“Yeah, we’re done,” Andre said. “Nothing on ‘em. There hasn’t been anything in the nursery since the first night.”
“Maybe we ought to stop taping in there.” David twirled spaghetti around his fork. “Save the tapes for other stuff.”
“I think David’s right,” Amy chimed in. “The events this week haven’t been confined to any one place, and they haven’t occurred in any predictable pattern. We’re wasting time and resources by taping the nursery every night when we’re not getting anything there.”
“We could alternate rooms,” Andre suggested. He picked a cherry tomato out of his salad, popped it into his mouth and chewed. “You know, tape a different one every night.”
Ideas followed thick and fast, voices overlapping as everyone brainstormed what to do. Everyone, Sam noticed, except Bo and himself. They stared at each other across the table. The conversation faded to static as Sam gazed into Bo’s eyes. He felt that if he just tried a little harder, he could send his thoughts directly to Bo’s mind.
Bo leaned forward, lips parting as if he were about to speak. Sam held his breath. Bo dropped his gaze. “We don’t have enough cameras to set them up in every room,” he said, interrupting David mid-sentence. “And no single room has proven to be more active than any other. So we’ll stop video recording overnight.”
“Bo?” Cecile spoke up hesitantly. “Do you think it’s dangerous for us to be sleeping alone?”
Andre grinned at her. “What’re you worried about? You’re not sleeping alone.”
Cecile turned red while David snickered. “I’m worried about Sam sleeping by himself, if you must know.”
Sam made an impatient noise. “Why, for God’s sake? I’ve slept by myself my whole life and it hasn’t killed me yet.”
He hated the sharp tone in his voice, but he couldn’t stop it. Between the events in the house and the tension between him and Bo, his nerves were shot. He sighed and pushed to his feet.
“Sorry, Cecile,” he apologized. “Guess I’m a little on edge. But seriously, there’s no need to worry, I’ll be fine alone.”
“You could bunk with Bo,” David suggested cheerfully.
Bo choked on his iced tea. “Not necessary,” Sam said as calmly as he could while Bo coughed. He stood and started gathering his dirty dishes. “Everybody pass your plates over here, I’ll clean up.”
Sam stacked the plates as they were handed to him and piled the silverware on top. Normal conversation had already resumed as the group began to scatter. Sam felt Bo watching him as he carried the dirty dishes into the kitchen.
He was running water into the sink when Bo entered the room. “Sam?”
“Yeah?” Sam squirted dish detergent into the hot water and started piling dishes in.
Bo walked over until he stood close enough to touch. “What did Amy say to you earlier? When you were in the storm cellar?”
“What makes you think she said anything?”
Bo glanced nervously behind him. “I’ve known her a long time. She had that look in her eye, like she was digging for information.”
Sam shut off the water, turned and studied Bo’s face. Bo seemed agitated, shifting from foot to foot, but he held Sam’s gaze steadily.
“She told me that she sees how we look at each other,” Sam said, opting for the truth. “She also warned me not to play with you. That you’re more vulnerable than you seem, and she doesn’t want to see you get hurt.”
Bo’s cheeks colored, but he didn’t look away. “And what did you say to that?”
“I told her the truth.” Sam kept his eyes locked onto Bo’s, gauging his reaction. “That I like you, and I’m attracted to you. And that I won’t hurt you.”
Bo’s hand crept up to wind through the trailing end of his braid. “What else does she know?”
“I didn’t tell her that I kissed you,” Sam said, guessing that was what Bo was really asking. “I figured it was none of her business.” He leaned closer. “It’s no one’s business that you liked it either,” he whispered. “Or that we both want it again.”
Bo let out a soft gasp when Sam’s lips brushed the shell of his ear, but he didn’t pull away. A sharp thrill shot through Sam’s body. Cautiously, he laid a hand on Bo’s hip and pulled him closer. He pressed a feather-light kiss to Bo’s neck and felt Bo’s body tighten.
“Oh God,” Bo breathed. He planted a palm flat against Sam’s chest. “Sam, stop, please.”
“Do you really want me to?” Sam flicked Bo’s earlobe with his tongue.
“No,” Bo moaned. “Wait, yes, I do!” He pushed Sam away. “Please stop, you’re… Christ, I can’t think when you do that.”
Sam dropped his hand and took a step back. Bo leaned against the counter, shaking all over.
“You have to face how you feel, or you’ll never be happy,” Sam said bluntly. “You can reject me, but it won’t make this go away. If it’s not me, it’ll be some other guy. You can’t hide from it.”
Bo’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t try to psychoanalyze me, Sam. You don’t know me.”
“That’s true, I don’t. But I know how tough it is to feel things you don’t want to feel, and I know from experience that you don’t stop feeling them just because you wish you could.” Sam sighed. “I just want to help.”
“Why?” Bo shot back. “What do you care?”
Sam knew Bo was simply lashing out, a reaction born of fear. Behind his angry facade, Bo’s eyes brimmed with the longing for someone to truly understand him. Sam moved closer to Bo, so close he could hear Bo’s ragged breathing.
“Because,” Sam said in a near whisper, “I care about you. Even though we barely know each other.” He reached up and caressed Bo’s cheek. “Even though you’re probably going to push me away again and tell me how straight you are and remind me that you’re married.” He trailed his touch down Bo’s throat, feeling the pulse racing beneath his fingertips. “I can’t help it, Bo. I want you, and more than that, I like you. I can’t watch you fight yourself like this and not try to help you.”
Bo stared at Sam with wide, frightened eyes. “I made a promise to my wife, Sam. That’s not something I can just throw away.”
“I know.” Sam lifted Bo’s braid, letting it slide against his palm. “I’m not asking you to.”
Bo’s hand slid up Sam’s arm, fingers kneading his shoulder, and it was all Sam could do to remain upright. “This is wrong,” Bo said softly, almost t
o himself. “I can’t. I shouldn’t…”
He trailed off, shaking his head. Sam, sensing that Bo was teetering on the brink, snaked an arm around his waist and pressed their bodies together, ignoring the surprised sound Bo made. “Shouldn’t what?” he whispered. “Shouldn’t want me like I want you? Shouldn’t kiss me like I know you want to?” He nuzzled Bo’s hair, breathing in the clean scent of shampoo tinged with a hint of sweat. “What shouldn’t you do, Bo?”
Bo sagged in Sam’s embrace, heart pounding so hard Sam could feel it against his chest. “All of those. I can’t do this, I can’t, Sam, let me go.”
Before you give in and there’s no going back, Sam mentally filled in. He let Bo slide out of his arms. Bo backed up, arms crossed over his belly as if shielding himself from his own desires.
“It could be really good between us.” Sam hadn’t meant to say that, but he didn’t take it back.
Bo looked away. “No, Sam.”
Sam plunged on, figuring he’d already gone too far to pretend he had nothing else to say. “I’m sick of dancing around this, Bo. I have to be completely honest with you, even if it costs me this job. What I’m feeling here goes beyond just wanting to fuck. This is something I’ve never felt in my life before. Ever. I want to know you, I want to be part of your life. I’m not trying to break up your family, I’m really not, but if your marriage is strong then you have nothing to worry about from me anyway.”
Bo drummed his fingers on the counter. His shoulders were hunched and tense. “What do you want from me? What do you want me to say?”
“Just tell me if I have a chance with you,” Sam said, suddenly feeling bone weary. “If the answer’s no, I’ll never mention it again, you have my word. But I have to know, right now.”
Bo’s eyes glittered with the war Sam knew was going on inside him. He took a step toward Sam. A movement in the doorway caught Sam’s eye, and he froze when he looked over at Andre and David’s shocked faces.
Chapter Fifteen
Bo’s face went rigid for a second before his practiced smile slid into place. He turned. “Hey, guys. Do you need something?”
David looked down at his feet, blushing furiously. “Um. No, just… We were just…”
“Getting a beer,” Andre finished for him. His expression was a blank mask. “It can wait. Come on, David.”
The two hurried out of the room, David throwing a half-revolted, half-curious look at them over his shoulder.
A heavy silence fell. Sam covered his face with both hands. So much for keeping secrets, he thought bitterly.
He jumped when he felt Bo’s tentative touch on his arm. “Sam? Hey, it’s okay, I’m sure—”
“No, Bo, I don’t think it’s okay at all,” Sam snapped. He shook Bo’s hand off and strode out the side door without looking back.
The mudroom and sun porch were blessedly empty, as was the foyer. Sam heard low voices coming from the library as he took the stairs two at a time. He got to his room without seeing anyone else. He wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or hurt that Bo hadn’t called him back or followed him.
Sam collapsed onto the bed and lay staring up at the ceiling. He felt numb all over, drained and exhausted. Empty.
“Christ, Sam,” he muttered. “Why’d you have to tell him?”
The question was an idle one. He knew why he’d done it, and he didn’t regret it. He just wished he’d waited for a more private time and place. He could handle Bo’s reaction. What he wasn’t sure he could deal with was having everyone else know how he felt.
He almost didn’t hear the light tapping on his door. Bo’s voice cut through his thoughts just as the knocking registered in his brain.
“Sam, let me in,” Bo called through the door. “I need to talk to you.”
Sam considered ignoring him, but something told him that Bo wouldn’t give up that easily. Sighing, he rose to his feet, shuffled over to the door and flung it open. “C’mon in,” he said, standing aside to let Bo by.
Bo walked in and stood in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets. He gave Sam a faint smile. “Thanks.”
Sam closed the door and leaned against it. “What is it?”
Bo bit his lip. “This doesn’t change anything. Everybody knowing about you, I mean.”
Sam laughed without humor. “Uh-huh. Right. I saw their faces. Don’t try to tell me that they won’t look at me differently now.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Bo tugged on the end of his braid, something Sam had started to understand was a nervous habit. “They were surprised, sure, but it won’t stop any of them from working with you. Or from liking you in your own right. I hope you realize that.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Bo’s eyes burned into Sam’s. “Was that true? All those things you said?”
Sam’s guts twisted. “Every word.” Pushing away from the door, he crossed to where Bo stood, standing just close enough to bring that sweet flush to Bo’s cheeks. “You never gave me your answer.”
Bo stared at him as if he were trying to see straight into Sam’s mind. “I’m married,” Bo whispered. “I have a family that needs me. I can’t just ignore that.”
Sam managed to keep his disappointment off his face. His throat felt tight and dry. “Okay. Well. Thank you for telling me the truth.”
He wondered if he imagined the guilt he thought he saw flash briefly through Bo’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Sam forced a smile. “Don’t be. I asked, you told me. I can’t blame you just because the answer isn’t what I wanted to hear.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I won’t mention it again.”
Bo nodded. “Okay. I, um, I guess I’ll…I’ll go then.”
“Yeah, okay. Good night.”
Bo stared at him. For a second, Sam thought he was going to take it all back. But he shook his head and left the room with a murmured “good night”, and Sam was alone again.
Even through the hollow ache in his chest, Sam couldn’t help noticing that Bo didn’t seem satisfied at all by the outcome of their conversation. If anything, he looked as lost and dejected as Sam felt.
Not that it mattered any longer. It was over. He’d bared himself to Bo, and he’d been rejected. It wasn’t the first time in his life, but it was by far the worst.
“You’ll live, Sam,” he promised himself. “You’ve made it through worse things before, you’ll get through this.”
Now if only he could make himself believe it. Sighing, he wandered onto the porch and sat in the big rocking chair. He was still there long after the sun had set.
The night was still and eerily silent. The sheer white curtains hung limp across the open doorway behind him. Sam rocked gently while contemplating the clouds scudding over the moon. They formed tantalizing almost-shapes, lines and curves and angles coming together in ways that made his bones ache. One suggested the sharpness of a jaw, another a long braid with careless strands coming loose, brushing a sensual vaporous lip.
Sam leaned his chin on the cracked white railing. Moon shadows raced over the grass below. He watched them, and saw himself out there, standing barefoot on the lawn. He imagined Bo running to him, his face painted with light and shade as he smiled and took Sam into his arms…
The stealthy sound of his bedroom door opening jarred Sam from his fantasy. He jumped up from the chair, ready to tear into whoever had the gall to walk uninvited into his room in the middle of the night. The angry words died in his throat when he saw Bo gliding toward him in the fractured moonlight. He wore a pair of blue cotton pajama bottoms that rode low on his slim hips. He was barefoot and shirtless. The way the silvery light played over his skin made Sam’s heart race.
“Bo?” Sam whispered. “What are you doing?”
“I needed to see you, Sam.” Bo’s voice flowed over Sam like cool cream. He paced forward, silent and graceful as a panther, until he stood close enough to touch. A sluggish breeze stirred the curtains and lifted strands of Bo’s hair from where it hung unbound around h
is shoulders. The silky tendrils brushed Bo’s naked chest, and Sam saw his nipples harden from that light touch. Bo reached out and took Sam’s hand in his.
“Don’t tease me,” Sam said. His insides shook with fear and want.
Bo tugged Sam closer. “I’m not teasing.”
He placed Sam’s open palm on the curve of his hip. Sam let out a soft little sigh. “God…”
“I want you, Sam,” Bo breathed against Sam’s cheek. “Kiss me.”
Sam pulled back and stared, unbelieving, into Bo’s eyes. They were soft and heavy with desire. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“But…but before, you said…”
“I know what I said.” Bo ran a finger across Sam’s lower lip. “I changed my mind.”
Sam started to protest, in spite of the need quivering inside him, because he knew Bo would regret this in the unforgiving light of morning. Then Bo’s mouth was on his, slick wet tongue urging his lips open. Heat flared in Sam’s belly, and he gave himself up to it. He crushed Bo close, dipping both hands inside the thin pajama pants to explore the smooth curves of Bo’s ass.
Bo pulled back, sucking on Sam’s upper lip. “Let’s go to bed.” He took Sam’s hands and backed through the open French doors into the bedroom. Sam followed, helpless to do anything else. He pulled the curtains closed behind them…
Sam jerked awake, still in the rocking chair, his neck stiff from falling asleep against the porch rail. He sat up, stretching his cramped muscles. The throbbing ache in his groin told him exactly how much the dream had affected him.
“It seemed so real,” he said to the listening dark.
But it’s not real, and it never will be.
The thought wasn’t quite enough to wilt his erection. Something about that made Sam furious. Growling, he unzipped his jeans and gripped his cock brutally hard. He closed his eyes and jerked off, his movements fast and rough. It was as much painful as pleasurable, and Sam was glad of that. He wanted it to hurt. Needed the physical pain to drown out the deep ache inside him that wouldn’t go away.