Something flickers in his expression. Guilt. Heat. He doesn’t answer.
I remember that first night, how he tossed me on the bed and loomed over me, hand resting on the headboard in that exact same spot.
“No?” I raise an eyebrow, a reckless thrill building in my chest. He’s been spying on me, and if I’m not wrong, it started even before my failed attempt at seduction. “So, there’s no camera above my bed?”
Still nothing. But his jaw tightens, and his grip on my waist flexes.
“Then it doesn’t matter if I do this.”
I step sideways, out of his shadow and directly into whatever sightline he’s been protecting me from. Holding his gaze, I slide one hand slowly down my stomach, past my waistband, and into my underwear. Letting my head fall back against the wall with a soft thud, I bring my other fingers to my breast, circling my nipple agonisingly slowly.
And I moan.
The sound that tears from his throat isn’t quite human.
He moves impossibly fast, his body blocking me from view of the bed again, one hand catching my wrist while the other grips my hip hard enough to bruise.
“Bad boy,” I whisper, grinning up at him. “Youhavebeen watching.”
A flicker of unease cuts through the playfulness. “Just you, right?” I search his face.
“Just me.” His voice is fierce, immediate. “No one else sees you. Ever.”
“Good.” I trace a finger down his chest. “Then I don’t mind.”
His eyes are blazing, that strange gold flickering at the edges. For a moment, I think he’s going to pull away. Instead, he groans, low and broken, and manoeuvres us both until his back is shielding me, his body a wall between me and the device.
“Did you enjoy it?” I whisper, stretching up to nip his lower lip. “I was thinking of you.”
I’m still riding the buzz of adrenaline, making me feel uninhibited in a way I’ve never been before.
“Fuck yes.” He growls against my mouth.
When his tongue sweeps against mine, I whimper into his mouth, and the sound seems to drive him wilder. He tilts me backward until my shoulders hit the wall, his massive body caging me in, and I’ve never felt safer or more desired in my entire life.
His mouth breaks from mine to trail down my jaw, my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin below my ear.
I arch into him, gasping, my hands clutching at anything I can reach.
“Bodhi.” His name comes out as a plea. “Please. I need…”
With one hand planted on either side of my head, he stares down at me.
“What do you need?” His voice is a rasp against my throat as he clutches me to him, his beard scraping deliciously against my skin. “Tell me.”
“You.” I pull at his shirt, trying to get it off, trying to get to skin.
When he yanks it off with one hand, and I finally get to see his broad chest, those bulging pecs, the dark hair, in all its glory, I purr in satisfaction.
“I need you. Please, just… finish what I started.”
He goes still as I stroke my hands over each ridge and ripple, through the soft hair that covers his chest and tapers off, running in a narrow strip down to his belt. The belt that’s now my enemy number one.
“Emma.” His voice is strained, rough with want, but edged with something else. Something that sounds almost like pain.Then he pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes searching my face with an intensity that makes me squirm.
“If Kozlov found out, if anyone found out… it would be your death sentence.”
My fingers wrap around the dark leather and tug, desperate to get his trousers open so I can see where or what lies at the end of his happy trail.
