I know I was going for sexy, but these revealeverything.
I wipe the steam from the mirror and stare at my reflection as I slip on the cream silk dressing gown hanging on the back of the door.
Okay, Emma. You can do this. You have... assets. Men like your assets. Just go out there and be sexy.
How hard can it be?
My reflection looks deeply unconvinced.
“You are a seductress,” I whisper to myself, trying to channel every femme fatale I’ve ever seen in movies. “You are confident. You are alluring. You are...”
Desperate.
I take a deep breath, adjust my bra one more time, pushing the girls a little higher, and then curl my fingers around the door handle. My heart is pounding so hard, I can feel it in my throat.
Opening the door, cool air rushes over my damp skin as I pause in the doorway.
Bodhi is standing by the window, his back to me, looking out at the grounds below. He’s changed since last night, wearing a fresh black T-shirt that stretches across his shoulders and around his bulging biceps in a way that should be illegal. His sun-kissed brown hair is up in a man-bun, and the combat trousers he’s wearing show off his long, muscular legs and tight ass to perfection. When he hears the door open, he turns.
And stops.
His dark eyes sweep over me, from my wet hair dripping onto my chest, where the dressing gown hangs open in a deep V, and down along the hem of the dressing gown that hits mid-thigh, to my bare legs and feet.
Something flickers in his expression, like a flash of lightning, there and gone too fast to identify.
“What are you doing?” His gaze settles on my nipples that are hardening under his attention, before his eyes slowly travel back up to my innocent expression, pretending not to look at how my gown gapes as I move.
Instead of answering, I sashay toward him, trying to remember how women in movies make this look effortless. Hips swaying. Slow steps. Smouldering eye contact. Acting as if there’s nothing odd about strutting around in a barely there negligee in front of a stranger.
I’m about three steps in when I realize he’s looking at me strangely. Not with desire. More like... confusion. Maybe even a hint of concern.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “You look like you’re limping.”
Shit. That is not the look I was going for.
“I’m fine, just… a little hot.”
I redirect myself toward a console table, leaning one hip against it and tossing my hair over my shoulder.
The damp strands slap against my face and stick there like wet seaweed. I tug them free, heat rushing to my cheeks.
“Seriously.” Bodhi steps closer, frowning. “Are you feeling alright?”
He thinks I’m sick or having some kind of breakdown.
This is a disaster. Apparently, I can only attract men I don’t want.
Fine. So, subtlety clearly isn’t working. It’s time for the nuclear option.
“No, thank you. I’ll come.”
I push off from the console table and stand up straight, looking him dead in the eye. Then, with as much casualness as I can muster, I grip one end of the belt and tug.
It slips away, letting the front of my gown hang open as the pale fabric slides off one shoulder.
Bodhi’s eyes drop. I watch his throat move as he swallows.
That’s more like it.
