Out On a Limb(87)



Bo leans back, studying my face intently with pouted lips and a raised brow. “What about Cora?”

I look down between us, dropping my hands from his neck. “That day, on the beach… you said you love her. You said you hadn’t gotten closure. It sounded like you were still—”

“I called her as soon as we got home, Win,” he interrupts.

“What?” I stammer.

“We got home from the beach, and all I could think was, here I am at the start of something new and beautiful, and I’m still stuck in the past. I realised I couldn’t keep making excuses for her. That I couldn’t leave things unresolved for the sake of peace. You deserved better than that. The baby deserved better than that. You made me realise that I deserved better than that. So I called her.”

“I… I didn’t know.”

Bo licks his lips, his eyes focused on something off to the side. “We talked for a few hours. I apologised for clinging to something long-over out of fear, and she apologised for… well, everything else. I think she’d been expecting me to call. She seemed ready for it. We both said our piece, and then she asked how I was. And then… I talked about you.”

“Me?”

Bo shakes his head, smiling. “I’ve been talking about you to pretty much anyone who would listen for months,” he laughs out softly. “I thought you knew, Win. I thought it was so painfully obvious how I feel about you. What I want here. I thought that’s why you set such clear boundaries. I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

I bring a hand to my mouth, covering a wavering smile. He wants me.

“I’ve been hanging on your every word, hoping you’ll give me a green light. I don’t want to push you. I don’t want you to ever feel uncomfortable, but… I don’t think I can pretend any—”

I kiss him. Because I have to. Because I can. Because it’s right.

And he kisses me back, fierce yet gentle, and it’s like a thousand hours spent wanting each other spilling between us. His hands go from my hips to my hair, clinging to me.

“You’re sure?” he asks, pulling back.

I giggle against his lips. “I’m sure, Bo. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Okay… we’ll talk after?”

“After,” I agree, laughing still, giddy and relieved and so effervescently happy.

Our kiss quickly turns feverish, with an intensity I’ve never felt before.

I don’t question if he wants this, because he’s told me he does. I don’t question if it’s a good choice or a bad one or worry about all it could ruin. Because when you love someone this much, when you’ve seen their hurt and their heart and you recognise them as your own—you’re left with no choice but to give yourself over to it. And I’m tired of being scared. I long to be loved by a man like Bo. I long to love him, the way he deserves.

Our souls were tied a long time ago, I think. We’re just finally admitting it to each other.

Bo twists and lies down lengthways across the headboard, keeping me on top of him with a steady hold. We’re both smiling when our lips meet again, but that ends when Bo’s hand curls around the back of my neck, pulling me farther against him than it seems I can go.

I feel it too, wanting to fuse our bodies together—the need to become one living thing.

I sit up, reaching for the hem of my sweater, but he takes it off for me, throwing it across the room. I fumble with his hoodie as he struggles to lift enough for me to get a good grip. We both laugh softly, tugging and pulling and shifting until we’re both topless and pressed against each other again. Bo rolls us so I’m on my back and he’s between my legs.

“They’re really sensitive now,” I whisper, holding my tits as he pulls my shorts and underwear off.

Bo lifts my foot onto his shoulder and begins kissing his way down the inside of my leg. “In a good way?” he asks, nibbling at the side of my knee, watching my hands eagerly.

“In a great way,” I say, plucking my nipples. “In a way where I’ve been imagining you touching them every night.”

Bo’s smile turns heated, his eyes locked in on my tits as he wets his lips. He continues kissing the inside of my thigh, holding my leg over his shoulder as he makes his way down to my centre. He brings his other hand to my breast, his palm covering the peaked flesh and squeezing indelicately.

He pulls away, holding my calf with both hands as he shakes his head, his eyes skimming over every part of my body. “God, I can’t decide where to start. I’ve missed your body so much. I wish I had more hands.”

I raise a brow, and he nods, his lips tight. “Heard it.”

“We’ve got time,” I reply breathlessly. “But touch me somewhere.”

Bo nods, lowering himself to the floor at the side of the bed.

He reaches across the mattress, the tendons in his arms flaring as he grabs the extra flesh of my hips and uses it to pull me to the edge.

I yelp, biting my lip as I smile down at him, grateful for his roughness.

“I’ve decided,” he whispers, biting the opposite thigh as he parts my legs with his hands.

“Yes,” I whisper. “Good decision…”

He laughs darkly with his mouth against my core. Then he swipes his tongue expertly from my wet entrance to my clit.

Hannah Bonam-Young's Books