Page 59 of Tell It To The Waves

“Fucking Kai.” He blows out before shaking his head, trying to rid some of the water from his hair.

Turning to go back into the cottage, I stop once I’m inside, looking back at Bohdi, still standing at the railing.Just do it, I tell myself. “Hey, Bohdi. If you want, you can crash on the sofa tonight.” I turn around, heading straight back to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me. Giving him the option to choose. With the rain, I didn’t want him thinking he had to drive his motorcycle on the wet roads.

Changing into dry clothes, I lay in bed wondering if he had stayed. It’s been quiet outside my room. Just the thought of him possibly being in my living room is keeping me awake. I toss and turn for over an hour, looking at my phone; it’s now close to twelve at night.

Staring at the dark wall, flinging my covers from my body, I tiptoe to the bedroom door, opening it.

The house is dark. Did I leave it this dark?

My breath hitches when I spot Bohdi laying on the sofa, shirt off, hand thrown behind his head. I stand there looking at him. Fixing to turn on my heels, “Can’t sleep?” in his gruff voice meets my ears.

I lean against the corner of the wall, ankles now crossed. “I couldn’t,” I say truthfully, hoping the dark will swallow me whole.

The tension is thick in the room. Ebbing with desire and flowing with need.

“Come here.” His voice allures me.

My hand has a mind of its own, going to my lips, running my fingers across them, remembering what he felt like on them.

Biting my lip, I push off the wall, taking unsure steps to close the space between him and me as he lies on the sofa. His hand reaches out when I stand next to his lying form. I feel the tips of his fingers glide up my leg, raising shivers in his wake as he stops at my thigh. My breathing hitches, my head falls back. This man does not know how he could undo me by just this touch, and it scares me.

His fingers keep traveling up under my sleep shorts. “Is this okay?” he whispers.

My chest rises and falls. I open my mouth, but words won’t come out. I finally nod my head.

“Use your words, August. I need to know.” His voice is laced with lust.

“Ye…yes,” I pant while his hand continues up their path, my eyes squeezing close.

The whisper of a touch from his finger runs over the side of my panties, making me moan. He didn’t even touch my clit. But by the moan I let loose, you’d think he did.

Bodhi’s finger rubs up and down over the fabric covering my pussy. Easy and slow. Goosebumps overtake my whole body, pebbling my nipples under the oversized T-shirt.

I want to reach out and run my hand through his hair, climb on top of him and let him wreck me. At this very moment I would let him, and that scares me.

Eight years. Eight long years since this man has touched me and my body lights up like he’s never been gone.

Bohdi’s finger slides between my legs. “My God,” he moans, feeling the wetness pooling in my panties, all for him and just from his slight touch.

“Take your shirt off, August.” His words flow up to me, demanding but quiet.

With no hesitation, I remove my shirt. Letting it billow to the floor.

Removing his hand from under my shorts, he finds my breast, cupping it before rolling my hard nipple between his thumb and index finger.

Standing there, I rub my thighs together, trying to combat the ache.

Under hooded eyes, I watch him bring the hand that was behind his head wrap around the back of my legs, pulling me to him, as his other hand still plays with my breast. I watch his head move, and his intake of air, as he places his nose right over me, breathing in my scent, squeezing my legs.

My whole body is shaking. Not from fear, but from anticipation and the way we remember him.

Bumping my leg into the sofa, he keeps pulling me until I have to maneuver myself on top of him, straddling his blanket-clad hips, because there was nowhere else to go.

Allowing all my body weight to relax onto him, I ignore the fact I’m not the size I once was. I have curves and a stomach thatis soft, with meat on it now. I’m not a young girl; I’m a woman now. Someone Bohdi hasn’t met yet.

His hands grab each side of my hips, kneading them before he pulls me to him, bringing his head up from the sofa. Our lips crash against the others for a few moments before pulling away; a slight cry comes from mine. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he praises me while rubbing my body.

I collide my lips with his; it’s feverish and urgent. I don’t know where I begin and he ends. In this moment we’re one. Hands not able to touch the other enough.