The camera doesn’t respond, obviously. But somewhere out there, maybe, Bodhi will see this. Will hear what he missed while he was off doing whatever Kozlov needed.
Serves him right for leaving.
“I’m still thinking about it.” I continue, my voice dropping lower. “About your mouth. Your hands. The way you pinned me against that wall like I weighed nothing.”
A shiver runs through me, and I press my thighs together, my fingers circling lazily. This was supposed to be a tease. A playful little show to make him regret walking away.
But somewhere along the way, the game stopped being a game.
My skin feels too tight. Every nerve ending is alive, humming with a need that’s sharper than anything I’ve felt before. When I shut my eyes and think about him, really think about him, thatwarmth in my chest flares, the one I don’t have a name for, and my whole body responds as if he’s actually touching me.
“I want...” I trail off, losing my train of thought as pleasure ripples through me.
What do I want?
Everything. I want everything.
I want his weight pressing me into the mattress. I want to hear that growl again, feel it vibrate through my chest when he’s buried inside me.
But there’s something else too. Something stranger.
I want to bite him back.
The urge rises up from nowhere, vivid and insistent. I can almost taste his skin. My mouth actually waters at the thought, and I don’t understand it, don’t understand any of this.
I’ve never wanted to bite anyone in my life.
“Bodhi.” His name comes out like a plea, and I’m not performing anymore. My hand moves faster, chasing the building pressure, but it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough.
I need him here. Need his hands instead of mine, his mouth, his voice telling me what to do.
The thought of submitting to him and letting him take whatever he wants sends a spike of arousal so sharp it makes me gasp.
This isn’t normal. This desperate, clawing need that feels like it’s rewriting my DNA. It’s like he woke something up inside me. Something that has been sleeping my whole life, waiting for him.
Whatever this connection is between us, it’s not just emotional. It’s physical. It’s changing me, making me crave things I’ve never craved, want things I didn’t know existed.
I want to lick the salt from his skin. I want him to be so deep inside me that I don’t know where I end and he begins.
Where is this coming from?
I don’t care. I don’t care because it feels right, feels inevitable, feels like the truest thing I’ve ever known.
My back arches off the mattress, and a moan escapes my lips. I’m close now, so close, but my body keeps reaching for something that isn’t there. My own touch isn’t enough.
“Bodhi, please…”
I don’t know if I’m talking to the camera or praying, or just losing my mind, but his name keeps falling from my lips like a chant. My free hand fists in the sheets, and my thighs are trembling, then I’m right there, right on the edge.
Footsteps.
My eyes fly open.
Heavy. Fast. Running.
That warmth in my chest blazes white-hot, so intense it steals my breath. He’s here. He’s close. I don’t know how I know, but I do. I can feel him like a physical force, getting closer with every thundering heartbeat.
I scramble to sit up, hand flying out from under the covers, just as the door handle rattles and flies open.
