Page 48 of Stroked Long
“Do you have a side you like to sleep on?” The rain is starting to come down harder and thunder continues to roll through the sky.
“The right side,” he says curtly.
Fun-Bodi has retreated, and Mr. Cranky Pants is back. What a joy. Is it really because I asked him not to leave me alone? If that’s the case, I would rather be alone than anger him. I like fun, joking-Bodi, not this cold, stand-offish Bodi. I shouldn’t think that, because I was attracted to him even when he was reticent and aloof. But having seen a warmer side of him, his terse rejection stings. Is it because I was scared? Or is he simply so repulsed by me?
“I think I might take the couch. Seems like you need your space. I have taken up your night, and you must be sick of me by now. Sorry about that.”
My confession brings his eyes to mine, the dark of the night reveals nothing on his stoic face. “No, just take the left side.”
Wow, so warm and welcoming.
Treading carefully, I answer, “Listen Bodi, I don’t want to step on your toes. I know you have your routine, and I don’t want to mess that up. I can tell you are a little tense right now, and despite feeling grateful to stay the night, I don’t want to overstep my boundaries.”
Tension rests in his shoulders as he runs his hand through his hair, making it stick up on all ends. “I’m not tense.” He breathes out a heavy breath and stares at the floor as he speaks. “You’re good to stay with me. I don’t want you to be scared.” He pauses and takes another deep breath. I know that look. It’s like the look I saw in my apartment when he was worried about the door being unlocked. My heart reaches out to him. I can tell this is hard for him. “Please get in bed. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“Oh gosh.” I go to his side of the bed and take his hand in mine, capturing it. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all. I really didn’t want to step on your toes but if you’re okay with it, I would really like the company. I’m such a wuss.” I try to laugh it off, but he’s still in his retreating mode.
“Climb in then.” He nods at the bed.
Simple as that, just climb in, as if he’s not just standing in front of me, shirtless with his toned and shapely shoulders that lead to the nicest arms I’ve ever seen, followed by his rock-hard chest and valley of abs.
Don’t mind if I do.
Smiling awkwardly, because that’s what this has become—a very awkward moment—I climb in on his side but work my way to the left to give him his space, making sure not to give him a view of my boy-short clad ass.
Cool sheets cover my legs and the pillowy soft top of his mattress sucks me in. Is this what money gets you? A bed made by pink unicorns who pluck only the finest materials from the clouds?
“What’s that?” Bodi asks, lying down and facing me. One of his hands rests under his pillow while the other rests in front of him and his eyes are intent on mine.
My rapid heartbeat is making it difficult for the air in my lungs to escape. He’s so gorgeous, yet so destructive at the same time.
“Did I say something?” I ask, getting in the same position so now we look like two gossiping girls at a sleepover.
“Sounded like you muttered something about unicorns.”
“Did I say that out loud?” My face flames with embarrassment. Thank God it’s dark and he can’t see the color change in my face.
“I guess so. What were you saying?”
“Just that your bed feels like it was made by pink unicorns plucking fluff from only the most pristine clouds.”
He chuckles. “So you like my bed?”
“It’s very comfortable.”
“I’m glad you like it.” His voice is low, almost like . . . he’s embarrassed from the compliment. Has he hosted many lady lovers in this bed?
“Do you have practice tomorrow?” I ask, wanting to continue this conversation, this moment in the dark where I catch glimpses of his handsome face from flashes of lightning.
“Day off.”
Uh-oh, short-answer Bodi is in tow. I’m going to have to break that.
“Day off, huh? That must be nice.” Shifting just a little closer but not making it noticeable, just a little more intimate, I ask, “What does Bodi Banks do on his day off?”
Silence fills the room as the subtle creak of his bed sounds and the mattress dips slightly. Did he . . . did he just move closer?
Warmth threads through my veins from the proximity of his free hand next to mine. He’s close, so close that if I reached out just a little, we could be holding hands in bed while looking each other in the eyes. Would he want to hold hands with me? He’s given me zero indication if he actually thinks I’m attractive or just an annoying coworker he has to put up with.
