The prayers and hymns are lovely, yet lonely. Although I’ve only been in a church once, I recognize “Amazing Grace” as “The Weeping Song” and when it’s sung, I sink into the pew and bury my forehead in my hands. C.J. sits next to me and tries to suffocate the shaking of my shoulders. When it’s over, the final song plays and the casket is positioned to glide out of the church with family behind it. Bo rises. David and Ainsley each try to stand and walk out of the pew with him, but he waves them off.
The congregation stands as Bo starts down the aisle. For the first time since we went to bed last night, Bo’s eyes connect with mine just before he reaches my row. Time stops its sovereign march for a moment, and lets us take a breath in each other. Before his chin quivers a second time, I push past Monica and Josh and root myself at his side. Grabbing his hand, I give it a slight squeeze before he interlaces his fingers with mine. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder what people thought of me—a girl most of them don’t know, escorting their lost son out of the church behind his dead sister.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The house is empty again. After the mourners, and the hugs, and the casseroles, everyone’s journeying back to their lives. Regan sat with Bo in the backyard most of the afternoon, while I continued arranging food. I plainly told Carrie that I’d be taking the week off, and she didn’t argue. I’ve never taken care of anyone but myself before, and it’s taken completely over; I don’t want to be anywhere else but here. I begged Regan not to leave the country without saying goodbye, but I know he will. I would too.
When the last of the dishes are put away and I’m sure Bo has passed out from emotional exhaustion somewhere, I slide out of my heels and press my sore feet onto the cold tile floor. I sigh, wincing on my exhale, as my aching shoulders feel the weight of the last two days. It hurts.
“You’re still here.” Bo’s relieved voice startles me, forcing me to grip the edge of the counter.
I turn tiredly and find him in the doorway wearing his suit from today—minus the coat and with a loosened tie. His messy dark hair shows how often he ran his hands through it today, and his blue eyes are tired.
“I promised you I wouldn’t leave. I meant it. Not until you kick me out.” I giggle. He doesn’t.
My heart races with uncertainty as he walks toward me with a look of purpose in his eyes. Bo takes the dishtowel out of my hand and tosses it carelessly on the counter. I glance in its direction but am stopped by his hands grabbing my face. His lips part as he scans my face, eyes darting back and forth, trying to find words.
I shake my head in question. “Bo ...”
He kisses me. A deep, hard, anguished kiss that curls my toes. One moan from his throat instructs me to open my mouth. I do. Bo’s hand runs up my neck and his fingers fumble with the elastic keeping the hair out of my face. When my hair finally cascades around my shoulders, he lifts me up onto the counter and pushes himself between my knees. Breathing hard through his nose, he grabs a fist full of my hair, pressing me deeper into his mouth. I echo his movements by setting his face in my hands. After a few minutes, he pulls away with a muted growl.
“Come with me.”
Hesitating, I touch two fingers to my swollen lips, as my legs swing free from the counter. Bo holds out his hand, but it’s not pleading—he’s demanding my compliance. Sliding off the counter, I follow him wordlessly up the dark wooden stairs. I have no idea if this falls under any category of appropriate, but he doesn’t seem to care. Bo begins unbuttoning his shirt, as his bedroom door swings open. He nods his chin toward my body and speaks barely above a whisper.
“Take off your dress.”
I nod and guide the dress over my head, leaving me standing in my black bra and matching panties in front of Bo, whose raging blue eyes stalk me as he takes off his pants. He walks toward me as I back up to the bed. I can’t believe we’re about to do this. It’s been months, but his touch has never left me. The first time we were together in my apartment flashes through my mind as my breath catches up with my body. I’ve craved him every second he’s been gone, but he never really left.
“Bo ...” I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I want this. Badly. But, like this?
He shakes his head as he repositions himself between my legs, his boxer briefs gone.
Scraping his fingers around my hips he tears off my panties a second before thrusting into me with such force that we cry out simultaneously. He fills every essence of my being, and I’m rendered senseless apart from feeling him. I reach around my legs and dig my fingers in his thighs, bringing him deeper into me as he anchors his hands on either side of my shoulders.