Chapter 27

27

Bodhi

I said I wouldn’t call.

Showing up on his doorstep was not calling.

Climbing his body, falling into his bed, and moaning while he impaled me on that big daddy dick was also not calling.

Listen. Self-control is not something I’m very good at, and I try not to be selfish. But God , I wanted to be selfish with Emmett. The idea of him standing on a stage as people who were not me bid on his time made me crazy. Bitches would be tossing down crazy amounts of money for his broody, sexy ass, and guaranteed, they would expect more than a “platonic” date.

Fuck. That.

Jealousy, hurt, and the need to lash out crawled under my skin, threatening to turn me inside out and take the fuck over. Sitting in my room and staring at all the shit Rush had left behind and the bed Lars once slept in made it worse.

Leftovers . Sloppy seconds . Like I’d been going around collecting discarded scraps to try and build a life.

FYI, gobbling down someone’s sloppy seconds is just asking for indigestion.

I mean, sure, it was nice of Rush to leave his name-brand bedding. The giant beach posters, coffeemaker, and mini fridge full of water and snacks. He even left some soap in the shower.

I knew he meant well, probably thought he was helping me out. Technically, he was. I did need shampoo, body wash, and towels. The blankets were hella bodacious. It was all stuff I didn’t have and that should have made me more comfortable.

I wasn’t comfortable.

Instead, I walked around with a heavy sense of being discarded. As if Rush walked out of his room one day, moved on to something better, and left behind all the shit he didn’t need.

One of those things he didn’t need? Me.

And now Emmett was doing some weird dating auction. For charity? Fuck Westbrook. Like that bunch of monied assholes even needed the cash.

But I needed him. So much it outweighed what small scrap of good judgment I had and landed me on his doorstep.

Did I regret it?

Ask me later when I’m not completely cum drunk and sated.

My insecurities and hurt were currently smothered by the six-foot grumpy man on top of me. I loved the way he used all his weight to pin me, how sex smeared between us and tinged the air. If I could stay like this forever, I would. If I could somehow be absorbed into his skin, my smaller frame swallowed by his larger one, I would succumb completely. Despite the impossibility of our relationship, I felt safe with him. Feeling safe was something I hadn’t truly appreciated until it was ripped away. Until I was free-falling through life with no net to catch me.

Above me, Emmett shifted, our tacky skin sticking. Swift, pungent panic burst inside me, hitting me like a strong shot and spreading through my veins like wildfire. That floaty, well-fucked feeling burned away, and I scrambled to anchor my fingers into his waist to keep him from getting up.

I wasn’t ready. I was never ready for these moments with him to end. It just wasn’t enough. I needed more, too infected with insecurity for stolen moments and heated hookups to offer any lasting reprieve.

He pushed up, the muscles in his arms flexing, his full-body strength no match for my scrawny fingers. Our bodies parted, cool air swirling between us as he hovered over me.

It was too dark to see if his eyes leaned toward green or gold, but the color didn’t matter because his attention was intoxicating, prickling my skin with awareness as though my body had forgotten he was still inside me.

“Did you mean it?” His voice only added to the spell he cast, the deep, grumbling inflection making my stomach swoop.

Perhaps that well-fucked feeling was better at hanging on than I gave it credit for. It wasn’t surprising. He was the best I’d ever had.

“Goldilocks.”

My attention snapped up, narrowing enough to realize he’d asked me a question. I chased the words around in my mind, but all I could come up with was the growly, deep tone I so loved.

Love…

Fingers knotted in my hair, tugging the strands enough to sting my scalp. I made a sound, refocusing on him again.

“Did you mean it?”

I heard the words this time but still didn’t understand.

My nose wrinkled. “Mean what?”

“When you asked for all of me.” Those words caused a flicker over his expression, a spike in the otherwise relaxed energy around him.

“Why?” I asked, hurt pinching my heart. “Having regrets already?”

Couldn’t he have given me just five more minutes?

Burying the ache, I smirked. “Because the cum dripping out of me is still warm.”

Annoyance flashed over his face— and was that a hint of hurt?— and then the blankets were ruffling, cold air tickling my skin as he left me in the bed alone.

Suddenly, I felt I’d somehow failed a test, a very important one, and I scrambled to sit up, letting the covers fall where they landed. Regret fisted my chest, and panic urged me to make it right. Don’t let him go.

“I want all of you.” The words came out in a rush of air, chasing his back as he headed toward the bathroom.

He stopped midstride, the strong lines of his shoulders and back bunching slightly, but he didn’t turn around.

A sense of urgency throbbed in my temple like a ticking clock. “Not just sex,” I added, sucking in a shuddering breath. Forcing my voice to relax, I said, “Everything.”

His head cocked to the side, and my heart thudded as though I were suddenly awaiting some type of verdict that would shape the rest of my life.

His shoulders rose and fell. His voice was gruff. “Get dressed.”

The sense of failure was so heavy that I slumped. My shoulders actually ached, and I swallowed thickly, batting my lashes to try and expel the sudden dampness in my eyes. Not really seeing, I hung my head, the length of my hair offering concealment as my fingers curled around each other so I could hold on to the only thing I really had. Me.

Turned out the curtain of my hair was a poor shield because it parted easily to thick fingers that pushed in to brush over my cheek. Startled, I jerked back, staring with guarded eyes.

The soft touch from a strong man who’d just rejected me felt more like the searing sting of a wicked paper cut.

I jerked away, leaving the bed on the opposite side. The feel of him leaking down the inside of my thighs was hard to ignore, and it only pissed me off more. I couldn’t even enjoy it. I couldn’t revel in how possessed I felt. How owned. Now I just felt dirty. How dare he use me as a pump-and-dump, then tell me to leave?

And no! It didn’t matter that I came here. I was the wronged one. Me!

Incensed, I stomped around the side of the bed, pushing at my hair to find my clothes. And hell. They were all downstairs.

Wouldn’t be the first time I did the walk of shame buck naked.

Spinning on my heel, I went for the door. I’d just call an Uber from the sidewalk.

The door slammed shut the second I pulled it open. His presence, all warm and big, crowded in. I swear his breath whispered in the strands of my hair, and tingles raced across my scalp.

I let out an angry noise, ready to rain hell down upon him, but then that big, warm presence blanketed me. His skin against mine, his wide palm flattened on the wood right beside my head. What did he have such big hands for anyway?

“Where you going?” His voice was raspy, borderline threatening.

My knees turned weak. “Getting dressed like you ordered,” I snapped. “Ogre.”

He laughed. The kind of laugh that moved through his belly. I knew because I felt it. More tingles raced over my scalp, and my eyes watered again. Why was he doing this? Making it so hard?

I yanked the door, and again, it slammed the second it opened.

“How am I supposed to leave if you won’t let me out?”

“I didn’t tell you to leave.”

“My clothes are downstairs.”

“Wear mine.”

A strangled sound ripped out of me before I could catch it. Riled, I turned, knocking into him as I went, shoving him back.

With space finally between us, I glared, anger swelling my chest. “You have regrets? Fine. You want me to go? I’m going. But telling me to put on your clothes while you’re still inside me is fucking cruel, Emmett. I’ve always known you’re an asshole, but I never thought you were cruel.”

He drew back as though I’d slapped him. “Bod?—”

“Oh, fuck off,” I snapped. “It’s not like it matters anyway. Landry moved in with Rush. She isn’t here to see.”

His face went blank, brows pinched together in confusion, and then he blinked. Blinked again. “What?”

“What?” I echoed. Did he not know about that? Oops . But also, not my problem.

I whirled. The door banged against the wall when I flung it wide and went into the hall. Before I made it to the steps, I was snatched from behind, lifted off my feet, and carried back into a room that smelled like sex and us.

I had no idea we had a scent, but there it was. Unmistakably us.

All the air whooshed out of me when my back hit the mattress. He pounced on me, his weight pinning me in place. I started to fight, but he locked both my wrists with one of his oversized hands and restrained them above my head.

That’s okay. What I lacked in size, I made up for in mouth.

He silenced that too, dipping his head and claiming me in a searing kiss. I groaned, melting instantly as his tongue swirled around mine, teasing and cajoling. Just like that, I forgot he’d pissed me the hell off, as I was lost to the undeniable pull between us. At first, it was a grinding sort of kiss, a punctuation to an argument, but then it shifted just like the air around us. Our lips met again and again, caressing and rubbing, having a conversation all their own—much better than the one he and I always seemed to have.

Words didn’t matter in this moment because we bypassed them with passion and the tangible way our hearts seemed to sync in the moment. Words were indeed power, but Emmett’s kiss was law, and it commanded my heart in a way that completely overruled my mind and turned me into this malleable thing for him to mold.

When our lips popped apart, his lids were heavy and I was gasping for breath.

“We are shit at talking,” he whispered, gaze caressing my face.

I said nothing, just stared back at him, trying to memorize the planes and angles of his face.

“I didn’t tell you to get dressed because I wanted you to leave.”

My eyes skipped up to his.

“Well…” He grimaced. “I do but not like that.”

“Explain, asshole.”

“I’m trying, brat.”

I kept my lips closed, generously offering another chance. See? I was getting better at this. I’d have to tell my therapist.

“I want to take you somewhere,” he said.

“It’s late.”

“I didn’t know brats had curfews.”

“They don’t, but old men do!” I sassed.

He left me staring at the strong column of his throat and the underside of his stubbled chin while his laugh rose to the ceiling. Every angle of him was enticing, every part of him an easy distraction…

“Wait. You want to take me somewhere? You’re coming too?”

“Mm.” He confirmed.

He wasn’t asking me to leave. He was asking me to go with him. Butterflies filled my stomach, bouncing around in drunken flight. “Where?” I asked, knowing it didn’t matter because I’d go anywhere with him.

“Get dressed, and I’ll show you.”

I pushed at him, and he let me up. Anticipation made me buzz, filling me with a lightness that wasn’t there just moments ago. “Can I still wear your shirt?”

“You gonna throw it in the toilet again?”

“Depends. Are you going to piss me off again?” I fired back.

His laughter followed me into the closet.