“Yeah?”
“We could make it fifteen cents, if you want. My parents wouldn’t mind if we fornicate.”
Choking out a laugh, Bodhi shifted in bed and pressed his finger to my lips. “Babe, normally you’d have me at fornicate, but this is a special circumstance. As we speak, Terrance and Betsy are on the other side of this wall— - your stepdad still in his rubber ducky shorts— with a notepad and pen in hand, eagerly waiting to critique my performance.”
I scrunched my nose. The sad part? He was probably right. I could picture my parents sitting us down after breakfast to give us our score.
“Maybe we should just call it a night,” I suggested.
He laughed, settling onto his back and pulling the sheets up to his neck. “I’m thinking that’s best.”
“Although…” I said, drawing out the word to add a touch of sexy.
Bodhi shifted again, throwing off the sheets and rolling onto his side to face me. He’d heard the suggestive tone in my voice and despite the obvious pitfalls of sex in a hippie household, my guy was still willing to entertain any avenue that might lead to some booty. What a keeper.
“I was just thinking how fun it would be to give my parents a little dose of their own medicine.”
A conspiratorial grin materialized as he wrapped his brain around the inner-workings of my evil mind. At this point, it didn’t matter what I proposed because Bodhi Beckett was all in— and then some. “You’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, are you?”
Bodhi reached up and slid his hand through wayward stands of hair on his forehead. My eyes tracked his every sexy move.
“Oh, but I am,” I said, a conniving smile curving my lips as my fingers followed his into his luscious mane. “And all it will take from you is some painful dialogue, a little bed rattling, and a whole lot of faked orgasms. What do you say, Bodhi, you ready to prove how good an actor you are?”
“Bitch, please. I’m at least as good as a porn star. Let’s do this thing!”
18
Bodhi: Quicksand
Iawoke the next morning to sunlight pouring through the curtains. Throwing an arm over my face, I chuckled. Maybe last night’s performance wasn’t worthy of an Oscar nod, but it was certainly enough to earn a nomination at the adult film awards. I was fairly convinced that if Breeze hadn’t overacted her third mind-blowing orgasm in less than five minutes, we could have fooled her parents into thinking I was a super stud.
But as it was, Terrance and Betsy knew a thing or two about shitty acting and turned the tables on us, faking their own love-making session by turning up the television in their room during a particularly racy scene in their favorite binge television program.
Still drowsy, I thought about catching a little more sleep. But Breeze wasn’t next to me, which was probably what woke me up in the first place. I sensed her absence. The girl was quickly becoming a staple in my diet, a necessity I couldn’t live without.
I was fully vested in her now… inus. My mind was officially blown. Breeze was everything, all wrapped up in a shiny pink package. I was quickly falling into a place I’d never imagined myself going. If there was such a thing as love at first sight, I was pretty sure it felt like this. She consumed me and, when she was near, I felt this freakish pressure in my chest. And then there was the smile that refused to leave my face, and the boner reserved specifically for her.
At the very least, I was intensely attracted to this woman. At the very most, I was already gone. She made it so easy to fall. There was something drawing us together, as if we were meant to be. What happened up on that mountain… there was a reason for it. Maybe we were meant to meet, meant to protect each other, meant to fall in love.
If I let Breeze slip through my fingers…
I banished the thought when Sweetpea stretched, his little legs using my skin as a yoga mat.
“Good morning.” I tickled the pup behind his ears. Wrong move. The little jerk jumped to his feet, bared his teeth, and growled menacingly at me.
Damn this dog had some real issues. I mean, come on. What trials could a pampered dog, raised in a luxurious mansion, have endured to turn him into such an utter asshole?
Feeling secure enough in our relationship to get to the bottom of the mystery, I asked, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I thought we were getting somewhere when he tilted his head as if pondering. But then Little Dick dropped the pretense and attacked, snapping and snarling and going for my moneymaker.
“Dude! Not the face. Never the face!”
I pushed him back behind enemy lines, but the cocksure Chihuahua kept advancing, chomping those pint-sized teeth at me. A full-on civil war in a nice warm bed was not the way I wanted to start my morning. Luckily, I had what my nemesis didn’t—the gift of size. Scooping him up in one hand, I swiftly dropped him onto the floor. “Now try to disfigure me, shithead.”
It was then I noticed Breeze leaning against the door frame, with her arms folded lazily over her chest. That sleepy smile of hers grabbed hold and shook me awake. Disheveled hair sat atop her head in a messy bun and just the slightest hint of bare skin peaked over the waistband of her flowered sleep shorts. And just like that—I was hers.
“Dude,” she said, amused. “If I were trying to disfigure you, I wouldn’t do it wearing moose head slippers.”
