Page 104 of More For Me

“It matters to me. We’re supposed to be best friends, Bodhi. If you felt like this before—”

“Because I knew you weren’t ready,” he cuts in. “I didn’t want to pressure you into anything when I could tell you weren’t in the same place yet.”

“You would never pressure me,” I say automatically.

“Yeah, well, telling you that I’ve been completely head over heels, crazy in love with you since pretty much day one felt like a lot of pressure.”

I still. “You’re in love with me?” I manage to whisper, even though my mouth suddenly feels as dry as the desert.

I expect him to look embarrassed, or scared, but instead, he holds my gaze, his eyes steady and fierce, jaw set in that determined way I’m starting to find unbearably sexy.

“Of course I am,” he says, voice even. Calm. Like he isn’t completely blowing my mind right now. “It’syou.”

“I don’t want to dance,” I blurt out and Bodhi blinks at me, surprised.

“Okay. Did you, um, want to have a drink? Or just head home?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to do either of those things.” I take a deep breath. “This is a hotel, right? I think we should get a room.”

* * *

I keep waitingfor the nerves to show up. But I feel completely calm as Bodhi takes my hand and leads me back to the elevator. I don’t giggle or get shy when he walks to the desk and requests a room for the night. I don’t even feel weird when he pulls me close in the elevator in spite of the fact that there’s another couple in there with us.

But when Bodhi uses the key card to open the door to our room—ourroom—the nerves come crashing in like a title wave. And he can see it. He knows exactly what I’m thinking. His lips turn up in the corner as he studies my face in the dark hotel room, then he reaches out to finger a loose strand of hair.

I expect him to tell me that he’s happy to wait, that we can just put on hotel robes and watch a movie. Or that we can go home and forget all about it if I want. But that’s not what Bodhi does.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, okay?” he murmurs, taking a step closer, one hand coming down to grip my hip. “Just let me love you, Lele.”

“Okay,” I breathe. There’s not a doubt in my mind that if I actually wanted any of those things—movies or home or waiting—that he’d comply in an instant. But we both know that’s not what I want. And it’s not what he wants, either.

Which he proves to me by pulling my hip roughly until I’m pressed up against him. His eyes are nearly black in the dark room as he looks down at me, a positively hungry look on his face.

I think that look might be the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Why aren’t you kissing me yet?” I breathe out, and his lips tug up, softening the intensity of his expression a bit.

“I plan to take my time with you tonight, love.”

There should be a law against this—against the low, velvet rasp of Bodhi’s voice when he calls melove. It’s too much. Too intense and too sweet and too absolutely swoon-worthy. I want to hear it every day.

“Cool,” I tell him, nodding several times in rapid succession, trying to get my brain functioning again. “You go ahead and take your time. But I’m taking your shirt off.”

He brings his forehead to rest against mine, the sound of his low chuckle dancing over my skin. “Please feel free.”

We both watch my fingers lift to the first button. “Your hands are shaking, Everly,” he murmurs. “I thought I told you not to worry?”

“I’m not worried,” I tell him. Just freaking the fuck out.

He shakes his head, clearly reading my mind. Then, before I even realize what he’s doing, he’s gripped me around the waist and pulled my feet from the floor. He walks a few steps backwards and then he’s pushing me down onto the mattress, his long, lean body following after me.

“What are you doing?” I squeak.

“Helping you.” He doesn’t give me time to ask what that means—his lips attack my neck, so hot and insistent against my skin that I cry out. He makes a low, happy noise and doesn’t stop kissing me.

His mouth turns out to be exactly the enticement I need to get serious about the buttons of his shirt. My fingers feel frantic as I attack them and then he’s shrugging the fabric off his shoulders. He skipped the undershirt tonight, and thank God, because Bodhi’s bare skin is perfection.

Then his hands are on the straps of my dress and I decide it’s absolutely imperative for my bare skin to meet his bare skin ASAP. I fumble for the zipper on the side of my dress and he makes a disapproving noise.