maybe more. Little snatches of time were lost to me, but the one thing that never changed, never left me, was Bo. I could hear his shallow breathing. I could taste him on my tongue. I could feel him inside my veins, as if I'd taken in some living part of him that was now a part of me.
Little by little, I felt energy, feeling, life, return to my body, but as it did, an overwhelming need to sleep began to drag at my eyelids. I fought it, wanting to stay with Bo, to spend every available second with him, staring into his eyes.
I knew when I'd lost the battle. Like drawing the curtains across a window, my lids fell and blocked Bo from my view. Just before I drifted off, I heard him whisper, "Rest." And then there was nothing.
********
Some time later, a cold hand to my face and Bo's voice woke me. I opened my eyes and looked around. Though my eyes told me I was alone, my body told me Bo was near.
"Bo?"
"I'm here," he said, taking my hand in his.
The sun was setting and the forest floor was dappled with the golden light of a dying day. To my right, where Bo's voice and touch was coming from, I saw the tall, gilded trees shimmer, like I was looking at them through the distorting waves of heat you see coming off of hot pavement.
I sat up and looked more closely. Raising my other hand, I reached toward it. I jerked a little when I made contact with something solid and cool, but then I realized it was skin I felt. I rubbed my hand over it, feeling the crinkly tickle of hair against my palm.
As I sculpted the curves and dips, I realized that I was touching Bo's chest. His naked chest. I paused and laid my spread fingers flat over his left pectoral. I could feel the excited patter of his heart.
"Ridley," he groaned, part in warning, part in pleasure.
The sound of my name on his lips, with that hint of need in it so clear and plain, sent a surge of desire rippling through my core.
Slowly, I let my palm trail across his chest and down his belly. I jumped when his icy hand grabbed my wrist.
"Stop," he ground out. His voice was notably strained.
"Sorry," I muttered, pulling my hand away. The only thing I was honestly sorry about, though, was that I had to stop. "Where is your shirt?"
"You're wearing it."
I looked down and, sure enough, Bo had slipped his rugby shirt on over my own. When I inhaled, my nostrils were filled with his scent and I thought I might never give his shirt back.
"Oh." I looked back up and "through" Bo and I could see that a pile of clothes lay just behind him in the leaves. "Whose are those?"
"Mine," he answered.
"You're not wearing any clothes?" A flush of heat stung my cheeks. Although I was a little embarrassed, the red stain had much more to do with the other things I was feeling.
"How would it look when the ambulance gets here if they see jeans and a rugby shirt walking around without a person inside them?"
I considered that scenario for just a moment. "Good point." When it sank in, what he'd said, I asked, "Ambulance?"
"Yeah. I went to check on Connors and found his cell phone at the edge of the trees. I guess it got thrown when you flipped. I called 911."
"When will they be here? What should I tell them?"
"Crap," he said under his breath. "I'd say they'll be here in the next five or ten minutes."
It took me a few seconds to put it together, but I assume that he had glanced down at his watch before realizing that he'd taken it off with the rest of his clothes. That's why the "crap" comment. The whole situation was almost comical. Almost.
I asked a second time. "What should I tell them?"
"Just tell them what happened and that you crawled out of the car and found the cell phone and then called for help."
He made a noise, as if he'd started to say something, but changed his mind.
I'd discovered I didn't like him keeping things from me. Bo's secrets tended to