Page 26 of Unlocked

“Pull the SUV over here,” Bo says. Rosco catches the keys and strolls away. Bo reaches for me. He slips his arms under my knees and shoulders, lifting me up, holding me to him. I wrap my arms around his neck. A whimper slips out as a pain in my ribs hits me with the movement. “Shhh, sweet girl. I’ve got you.” Bo kisses my forehead and turns to carry me to the SUV. Rosco opens the back door, Bo steps inside with me cradled on his lap. Rosco walks around to slide behind the wheel, and we are on the move.

“Wh-where are we going?” I ask when we begin to move slowly through the traffic being controlled by the authorities who are continuing to evacuate the crowd. Bo’s hand is rubbing soft circles on my back. “Somewhere safe,” he answers. Eventually the traffic clears. Rosco picks up speed as we hit the interstate. I close my eyes and rest my head on Bo’s strong shoulder. I’ve been in terror for days. Finally I can relax. Sleep takes me in seconds.

I awakento the delicious smell of bacon permeating the air. I blink, trying to remember where I’m at, but my mind is foggy, disoriented. My limbs feel so heavy.What the hell happened?I struggle to focus desperately wanting to remember. At first, all I remember is being in a bar with Marley, Hillary, Ashley, and Daisy. I frown, wanting to pull the memories to the front of my mind. I know I’m missing some time. Maybe a lot of time.

The sound of metal scrapping against metal, of someone cooking, draws me from the comfortable bed I’m lying in. I look around taking in the very masculine room that I’ve never seen before. I take a deep breath, sucking in the most delightful scent. Bo Robertson’s scent. I close my eyes as the events at the bar flood me. The dance, our fight…oh God! Marley and I were taken to be beaten and murdered.Am I dead? Is this even real? Have I died and gone to heaven? Or maybe hell?

I throw the covers back, preparing to leave the bed when I see that I’m only wearing a t-shirt that doesn’t belong to me. My eyes widen in surprise, causing pain to shoot through my face. I’m able to open them both this morning. I wince as the memories of how my face became injured hit me. Blow after blow as a man demanded Marley give him information. Her begging himto stop, that she didn’t know what he wanted. I shudder at the memories and force them away. I’m not ready to deal with them, yet.

The smell of bacon drifting in the air increases as do the sounds of someone cooking not far away. I gingerly crawl from the huge bed. I’m sore from head to toe. Rising to my feet, I wobble, a wave of dizziness washing over me. I hold onto the bed until my world stops spinning. There are three doors in this room. I suppose I could play eenie, meenie, miney, mo, but that will take too long, and I really have to pee.

I walk cautiously to the nearest door. Pulling it open, I see it’s a walk-in closet hanging full of men’s clothing, mostly jeans and t-shirts, but I do see some dress pants, button up shirts, and a couple of suit coats. Not the room I’m looking for. I back out and move to another door on the same wall.Pay dirt!

I enter a gorgeous bathroom. It’s as if someone had read my mind and created my ideal bathing space. There is a huge garden tub, to the right in a corner, that is flanked by huge floor to ceiling windows. Beautiful sunlight is streaming in causing my eyes to squint at the brightness. Outside the windows is a large green space with trees and small shrubs.

I take a survey of the room, noting gleaming white tile with blue accents. There’s a huge walk-in shower next to the tub. On my left, I see a counter with double sinks and miles of open counter space. I take a couple of steps into the room, finding a toilet closet to my right. I hurry inside to relieve myself before I make a wet mess on the floor.

Once I’m finished, I exit the closet and wash my hands at one of the sinks. I grab the towel from a rack to dry my hands. I continue my exploration of the room as I dry them. I peer through the glass walls of the shower stall to see multiple shower heads at varying heights, some are detachable. A large shelf is along one wall at waist height.What’s that for?

Moving on, I turn to my left just past the end of the sinks to enter another huge closet. This one is empty. It’s sad really because it’s the perfect space. Shelves line two of the walls. Long bars for hanging clothes grace a third. There is even an island in the middle with drawers and shoe racks filling the space. I can almost see my clothes hanging in there. With a sigh, I exit the unused space, closing the door behind me. Leaving the bathroom, I find my way out the third door and into a hallway, following the sound of someone cooking.

“I’m making you some breakfast,” Bo says upon me entering the impressive kitchen. It’s all shiny stainless-steel appliances. Bo stands at the stove in only a pair of jeans, which are hanging low on his hips, not hiding the twin dimples on his lower back. He spares me a glance over his right shoulder before turning back to pluck several strips of bacon from the frying pan, before placing more in the skillet.

Despite being sore, still tired, and actually hungry, I feel all out of sorts. Realistically I know it isn’t Bo’s fault I was taken and endured all of this, but I’m angry and need someone to take it out on. How dare he act like everything is normal, and we are just a couple having breakfast together?

“I don’t want breakfast,” I grouse irritably, realizing I’m still living in a fantasy. He turns to fully face me at my declaration. A frown graces his handsome features. “I want to go home.” His frown turns into an ominous scowl as he shakes his head.

“That’s not going to happen,” Bo replies. His voice firm but low. His tone brooks no arguments, but I have no intentions of letting Bo Robertson boss me around.

“Bo—” His hand flies up cutting off my words.

“It isn’t up for discussion, Shelby,” Bo growls, sliding the skillet from the eye. He takes a predatory step toward me. Instinct for self-preservation makes me retreat from the threat in front of me. Bo stops, frowning again. “I would never hurtyou. Please believe me.” I shake my head, unable to speak. Our eyes bore into one another. “Come on have a seat and let me feed you.” His words snap me out of the spell his eyes and incredibly hot body have cast upon me.

“I said I don’t want breakfast!” I yell, crossing my arms over my chest to glare back at him. Acutely aware of how my actions have caused the t-shirt to ride up, coming close to exposing my uncovered pussy, I lower my arms slightly. Bo’s jaw clenches, gritting his teeth. I’m frozen to the spot, unable to force my feet to move while he closes the distance between us in the blink of an eye.

“Stop being difficult,” Bo demands, staring down at me. He’s so close I’m forced to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. “I’m not letting you go, Shelby. I’ve spent the last five days looking for you. I told myself when I found you I’d never let you out of my sight again. Let me take care of you.” This last sentence spoken softer, with a plea in his tone.

“You are the most infuriating man I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting,” I lip. My words far braver than I’m feeling inside. Deep down, I want to give in, but the rational part of my brain is screaming be cautious. He has the power to destroy you.

“Pot meet kettle,” Bo deadpans in response. I huff out an exasperated sigh. I close my eyes, attempting to gather some little bit of control so I don’t scream at him. “I’m just trying to take care of you, Shelby.” His voice is tender. His warm hand cups the side of my face, causing my eyes to fly open. He is close, so incredibly close. I can feel his breath fanning over my lips. Lips that still remember the feel of his on mine. I want to feel them again, to be kissed by the overbearing, annoying, exceedingly sexy Bo Robertson, but I can’t allow that to happen.Can I?

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, again. My eyes drift to his mouth only millimeters from mine. My tongue sweeps out of its own accord in anticipation. Bo brushes his lips against mine so softly I’m not sure it even happened until his does it again, but this time is different. He lingers moving against my closed mouth so gently. His tongue sweeps out causing me to emit a startled gasp. It’s the opportunity he has been waiting for. His tongue sweeps into my mouth destroying any sense of self-preservation I had left.

His tongue plunders my mouth wreaking havoc on my senses. The hand cupping my face slides to the back of my neck, holding me where he wants me. His other arm wraps around my waist pulling me against his hard body. The shirt I’m wearing rides up exposing my most intimate parts. I moan loudly at the contact as desire like I’ve never felt before sweeps over me, lighting my body aflame. The sound seems to have encouraged him to continue his assault. Bo tilts my head to the side as he deepens the kiss.

One of his legs pushes between mine until I can feel the fabric of his pants on my naked flesh. The rough denim feels surprisingly good on my sensitive lady parts. His tongue explores every inch of my mouth while my body seeks more friction between my legs. I’m lost in the moment as he takes my body to places it’s never been before.

“Shelby,” Bo whispers my name so reverently as we come up for air. I’m panting like a dog in the heat of summer. I don’t open my eyes too afraid of what I’ll see if I do. “Shelby, look at me,” Bo demands softly. I shake my head not wanting to lose the moment. I want this to be real. I want him to be real, to want me. I’m afraid to open my eyes and see his contempt, disgust, or a smug smirk indicating he finally got what he wanted.

He doesn’t push me to look at him as I expect. Instead his lips are on me again in a heated kiss.Can he kiss me like thisand not mean it?I’ve never ever been kissed like this. My arms have been hanging limp at my sides. As my desire increases, the need to feel him under my hands overrides my good judgement. Hesitantly my hands go around his waist to explore the hard planes of his muscled back.

His skin is warm under my cautious touch. When he doesn’t recoil, I grow bolder letting my hands glide over his skin to run up his back to his shoulders. Bo groans against my mouth and pulls me even closer. I feel a hard length press against my abdomen, sucking in a shocked breath at the contact. Is that what I think it is? Oh Lord! He seems huge.

Reality begins to crash upon me. This can’t be real. I bring my hands to his chest and push against him, but there is no strength behind it. He has taken my willpower, my survival instincts away. I try again, pushing back against his hold on my neck. Our lips part, and I plead as if my life depends on it. “Please, Bo,” I whisper. “Please.”

“Please what, Shelby?” Bo’s voice is strained. My eyes open without conscious thought. I don’t see what I’m expecting. Instead of malice or contempt, I see my own desire reflected back at me.How is that possible?“Tell me what you want, my sweet girl.” My heart flutters in my chest as I attempt to breathe. I love it when he calls me his sweet girl. My breath hitches in my throat at the unbridled need I see on Bo’s face. It’s too much. I’m not ready for this. I again push weakly against him. His face falls. He swallows hard but releases me and steps back.

I reach out to grasp the counter to keep my knees from buckling at the loss of contact from his hold. He turns back to the stove without another word.What the hell just happened?I mean I know what happened, but my brain can’t compute it. Bo Robertson kissed me senseless and seemed to be turned on by it.Seriously? Is that possible? Why do I keep refusing to see that he is? Because I’m afraid.

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