Page 30 of Unlocked

We sit in silence. Bo’s firm hold on me, keeping me grounded, preventing the memories from consuming me again. There have been times when I’ve lost hours, occasionally days, to the memories being trapped in my past. Thankfully, it’s been years since I’ve had episodes that bad, but due to recent events, I fear I’m headed for a new wave of them. I focus on slowing my breathing and calming my pulse. I use the techniques my therapist has drilled into me over the years.

When I’d first left home, I’d been a mess. Flashbacks, panic attacks, and black outs had been common. I’d been ready to die. My father had finally convinced me I’d be better off deadthan alive, making everyone around me miserable. I felt bad for frightening my aunt with my night terrors and freak out episodes. It all had become too much. I’d taken an overdose of anxiety meds that my doctor had prescribed to treat my illness. Thankfully I hadn’t taken a lethal dose and my aunt had found me shortly after I’d swallowed them. She’d had me hospitalized for a time to help get me on the road to recovery.

My trip to the hospital had not been a pleasant one. I’d been poked with needles, had tubes inserted in places better not mentioned, and forced to drink thick, disgusting black liquid to prevent me from absorbing the meds I’d taken. I’d had diarrhea for days ridding my body of the pills and the black liquid. I’d been kept against my will for weeks because even after I was out of danger from the pills, I’d still been determined to end my existence. I’d been on suicide watch which means I’d had zero privacy even during the diarrhea episodes. It had been a very dark time in my life. One that only my aunt knows about. I never told Marley or Hillary, my only two friends from high school about it. They both knew I’d left home because my father was a ‘mean’ drunk, but I’ve never told them details of the abuse I’d suffered. Although, I’m sure they’ve suspected just how mean he’d been. I’ve kept my mental breakdown from them, too. I’ve been too ashamed to admit how depressed I’d gotten.

Bo, wiping snot from my nose, pulls me back to the present, once again. I’d drifted off into the past once more. I’m angry now. Angry that my father has damaged me so badly. Angry that I had been taken and beaten by strangers, which has triggered a relapse of my PTSD. I swat at Bo’s hand. Embarrassed that I’m naked, crying, and covered in snot while sitting on his lap.

“Stop!” he demands as I attempt to force him to leave me alone. “I’m only trying to take care of you, Shelby. Don’t be so stubborn.”

“Stop treating me like a child!” I yell, raising up from his chest. “I can wipe my own nose, you brute!” He laughs. The asshole is laughing at me, which only fuels my ire.

“There she is,” Bo declares proudly. I glare over at him, since being on his lap, we are mostly eye to eye. “There’s my fiery, sweet girl.” I huff and roll my eyes, because none of his words make sense. Fiery and sweet? Not on your life, nor am I his girl. No matter how much it makes my heart pound to hear him say those words. I’m working on a sassy retort when he takes my breath with a soft kiss to my pouting lips. I should pull away, but his mouth is like a magnet to mine. I can’t pull away even if I really want to. His kiss is soft, tender, unlike the passionate ones we’ve shared before. His tongue teases mine with gentle strokes. If I’m not mistaken, I sense relief in him as well. Did he think I’d be trapped in my memories forever?

When I think I’ll pass out from lack of oxygen, he releases my lips to rest his forehead on mine. “Gets better every time,” he mumbles. I’m not certain I heard him correctly. I don’t dare ask for clarification, too afraid of his answer either way. “Are you feeling better?” he asks. I’m glad he didn’t ask if I was okay, because no, I’m not okay, and I don’t want to lie to him. Am I feeling better? Well, I’m better than when he pulled me from the shower. At least, I’m no longer in the past.

“Yes,” I whisper, his arms tighten as he releases a deep breath. “Thank you, although I’m sure I’ve gotten your jeans soaked.” His deep laugh vibrates through my body.

“They’ll dry, sweet girl. I’m not worried about them.” Bo lifts his head from mine to peer at me. Humor dancing in his eyes. “Always worried about everyone else, aren’t you?” I ignore his question because who else would I be worried about? I learned long ago my feelings, my needs are unimportant to everyone except myself. Even my mother, though she tried to ease my suffering, never really cared how I was handling what we weresuffering through. I understand. She was living in her own hell. She did the best she could to ensure I had a roof over my head and lived to see the next day. It’s all she could manage.

“Um, Bo?” I bite my lip nervously as the reality of our current situation hits me fully.

“Yes, sweet girl?” He looks at me with curiosity.

“I should get dressed.” I wait for his response. He lowers his gaze to my chest. I lift the towel up a little higher, hoping I’m covering as much of my body as I can. Bo seems to realize I’m naked. Sitting on his lap in only a towel. His eyes rise back to mine.

“I rather like your current attire.” Bo’s heated gaze burns me. I feel my face heating under his appraisal. His lips brush lightly over mine causing a hard shiver to run through me. “I’m sorry. You’re cold, aren’t you?” He grasps the towel at my back and begins to rub in an attempt to dry my wet skin.

“What are you doing?” My voice is barely above a whisper. I intended for it to be harsh, demanding, but as usual, he has taken my breath. His face softens into a tender look.

“Taking care of you, sweet girl,” is all he says as he slides me off his lap onto the bed. He pulls the towel from my body, much to my shock, and proceeds to dry my hair and body, very thoroughly, making sure to get under my breasts and skin folds. I’m trembling head to toe by the time he is finished. He moves very clinically, not in a sexual way at all, but I can’t keep my thoughts as clean. I wonder how it would feel for his bare hand to be sliding over my skin. Another shiver racks my body. His face frowns as he stands next to me. “I’ll be right back.” He leaves me utterly naked sitting on the bed, disappearing into the bathroom. He returns seconds later with the clothes he’d gotten for me.

I reach for them, but he bats my hands away, kneeling at my feet. He slips my panties over my feet. I can feel my bodyflushing with embarrassment and desire, having him so close to my exposed body. He slides them up to my knees before repeating the process with the jeans. He places a sock on each foot. Then he stands to slide the straps of my bra up my arms, leaning over me to fasten the clasps at my back. Next comes my shirt. He slides it over my head and guides my arms into the correct holes. Meticulously he smooths my shirt before encouraging me to stand up. He refuses to let me finish dressing myself. He pulls my underwear and jeans up, buttoning and zipping them.

I swallow hard. I haven’t been dressed by someone else since I was like four-years old. I can’t meet his gaze. This is entirely too intimate for two people who hardly know one another. I keep my eyes on the floor as he finishes his task. I’m expecting him to step away when he’s done, but I should have known better. Bo Robertson never does what I expect him to do. He lingers in front of me. I’m determined to wait him out. I flinch when he grasps my chin in his large hand, lifting it until I’m forced to look at him.

Our eyes meet, and once again, I’m left breathless and speechless. “My sweet, sweet girl,” Bo murmurs, lowering his head to mine. His lips are soft and sweet as they brush mine. He trails his lips along my jaw to my left ear. His hand leaves my chin. Then both of his arms are around me, pulling me flush with his body. I shudder with the longing that hits me. A need is growing in my lady parts; one that I can’t keep denying. I’ve pleasured myself from time to time, but it’s never felt like what I’ve read about in books.Would it be like that with Bo?I have a feeling it would be more than I could fathom. His lips are on my neck now. My head falls to the right of its own accord. He presses another kiss in a spot that has me quaking all over. A loud moan echoes in the room.Shit! Was that me?

Bo lifts his head, his lips skimming along my jaw again to find mine. He kisses me long and deep. It becomes more passionate as the seconds tick by. His hands are roaming my back. I lean into him. My hands come up to wrap around him, holding him close. He suddenly breaks the kiss but doesn’t release me or push me away. I’m stunned, unsure what’s happening.

“Fuck, Shelby.” Bo’s voice is strained. “You make it so hard for me to behave myself.” I lift startled eyes to his. His tortured expression softens as he looks down at me. “You don’t even realize you’re doing it, do you?”

“Doing what?” I query. He grins. My question answering his.

“Make me forget to keep my hands and my lips to myself,” he states unashamedly. “I want to do things to you, my sweet girl, but now isn’t the time for it. I’m trying to be patient, to do what’s right for you, but I’m finding it harder and harder with each passing second.” His words bring a mixture of feelings. On the one hand, I want him to keep touching and kissing me. I want to get lost in him, but I know he is correct. Now isn’t the time for such things. I’m not in the right state of mind to be going any further than we have thus far.

“How about we take that walk?” he asks. I simply nod, because what else can I say? Not a damn thing with him standing so close. He walks over to the dresser pulling out a t-shirt that stretches over his muscled torso in an enticing fashion. Dropping his wet jeans and boxer-briefs, I watch in fascination as he changes his clothes. He grabs socks and a couple of pairs of tennis shoes from the closet. He walks back over to the bed.

“Here sweet girl,” Bo says as he hands me a pair of shoes. “I hope these fit.” I take them and sit on the bed. Bo sits beside me, putting on his shoes while I put on mine. Once we both have our shoes on our feet, he takes my hand without a word and leads me through his home and out the door. The sun is high in the clearsky. My free hand comes up to shield my eyes. It seems ages since I’ve seen the sun.

We stroll down the street toward a lovely park not too far away. We walk hand and hand, and I have to admit I like how his hand feels in mine. It is warm and his grip is firm, but not too hard. I find that I’m perfectly content to walk beside him for as long as he wants. I take in our surroundings as we walk, the green grass, the flowers growing in patches along the trail. Birds are singing merrily oblivious to the horror I’ve been through the last few days. I would never have gotten to see this if he hadn’t found me.

“It’s nice out here,” Bo comments after a few minutes. I nod. I can’t disagree with him. After being kept in a dark cell for days before having a bomb strapped to me and lead to a public event where I was supposed to die taking many others with me, I’m happy to be here in the land of the living.

“Shelby?” Bo begins, seeming unsure of himself, which is highly uncharacteristic of him from everything I know about him before he rescued me. Since I’ve woken up today, though, he’s been different…less confident than before. I keep waiting for him to say something else, but he doesn’t continue. I turn from the trees to look over at him. He studies me warily. “I, um, got you a couple of appointments tomorrow.” My brows dip down in confusion. Appointments? What is he talking about?

"Appointments?” I ask. He nods. “What kind of appointments?” He looks a little guilty for a moment, but then I see him transform in front of my eyes to the confident man I met nearly two weeks ago.

“I made you appointments at a clinic,” Bo answers. “You need to be evaluated by a medical professional and a…therapist.” He looks in my eyes without remorse. A small part of me is angry that he would be so presumptuous, but another is touched by his protectiveness where I’m concerned. “Don’t be angry. I knowyou didn’t want to go to the hospital, and I respected that, but you need to be seen. There might be other injuries that need treatment.” He swallows hard, suddenly not meeting my eyes.

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