“Right,” I replied, and Bodhi nodded once.
Then Clara was gone, slipping into her room further down the hallway, leaving us alone.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. We just stared down the empty corridor where she’d disappeared. Then we looked at each other, Bodhi’s eyes just as wide as mine.
And we laughed.
Hunched over, stomach-clutching, tears-in-your-eyes, almost hysterical laughter.
“I thought...” I gasped, trying to breathe through the giggles. “I thought she was about to murder us.”
“I know.” Bodhi wiped at his eyes, still laughing. “I was already thinking about how shit Riff’s eulogy would be at my funeral.”
That only made me laugh harder as we stumbled through the door into Bodhi’s hotel room.
But the air changed the second the door closed behind me. It thickened. Charged. Heavy with anticipation. Like the pause before the first crack of lightning.
I leaned back against the door as Bodhi crowded my space, every fine hair on my body standing on end. He braced one hand against the wood beside my head, the other settling carefully on my injured hip. His thumb brushed the bare strip of skin at my midriff, between the hem of my blazer and the waistband of my skirt.
I shivered. Goosebumps bloomed in the wake of his touch. He leaned in until there was barely an inch between us. Close enough that I could feel his warmth through our clothes. I still hadn’t seen him fully naked. Only his lower half, mostly hidden in a dark room we hadn’t been meant to be in. Knowing there were parts of him I hadn’t touched yet made my chest ache.
I wanted to unwrap him slowly. Trace the art inked into his skin with my mouth. See the cock that had felt heavy on my tongue when I’d worshipped it in the dark.
The thought made my mouth water. And judging by the erection pressing into my groin, he was thinking along the same lines.
Then he asked softly, “How’s your hip?”
And just like that, the moment sagged.
The ache from dancing still lingered, a dull throb that promised worse if I pushed it. The hunger in his eyes told meexactly what he wanted. I was sure mine reflected the same. But I didn’t want our first time to be tangled up with pain, or frustration, or my body failing me halfway through.
So I told the truth.
“Still aching,” I admitted, pouting despite myself.
Bodhi smiled and kissed the tip of my nose. “Where’s your room key?”
“In my bag,” I said, lifting it slightly. “Why?”
“Because . . .”
He kissed my cheek.
“I’m going to go to your room . . .”
My other cheek.
“Get a heat pad and an ice pack...”
My forehead.
“And then we’re going to get naked . . .”
My chin.
“Get into bed . . .”
My lips.
