22. KAYLA
22
U napologetically, I burst through his bedroom door, right in time to see him strolling out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Strands of his wet hair sit in front of his forehead, and I cock my head at the visible V that makes me moan in agony.
“Ugh,” I huff, fanning my face.
The man is too hot for his own good.
He’s giving me an incredulous look when I bring my attention back up, though a playful glint flashes through them.
“What are you doing?”
“Dinner is ready.” I sheepishly point my thumb over my shoulder while I shamelessly keep my gaze fixed on his six-pack.
Would I still have time to explore every line before dinner burns to charcoal mac?
We could always order in?
Eating the specimen in front of me for a starter, then Wendy’s for dinner sounds like a really good plan right now.
“You made dinner?”
“Yeah, but I’m regretting it now. Maybe we should skip dinner?” I take a few steps closer, determined to close the distance between us, but he stretches his arm, placing his palm on my chest to stop me.
“You can’t just waltz into my bedroom like this.”
“Yeah, you sound really mad.”
He shakes his head, pushing a deep breath from his lungs in surrender before he takes off toward his closet. My curiosity has me trailing behind him.
“What in the hell?” My eyes bulge when I walk into his spacious walk-in closet, amazed by what I’m seeing. It’s not the number of clothes that has me shocked. It’s the fact that he has at least six yards of sneakers perfectly displayed on the wall.
“I knew you liked sneakers, but this is insane, Bodi!” I saunter past the entire wall that’s filled with every sneaker brand you can think of, in every style and every color.
“Why is it that when women have walls of heels, no one bats an eye, but when a bloke has the same, everybody freaks out?”
“Wait?” I move my head around to scan the room. “You also have a wall with heels?”
“Funny.”
“I’m not freaking out. I just didn’t realize how big your obsession exactly is.” When I put my focus back on him, he’s wearing gray sweatpants and a white Ava McKay Foundation t-shirt, rubbing his wet hair dry with his towel.
“I know. But I agreed with myself that I’m never allowed more than this.”
“What do you mean?”
He moves closer, putting his hands on my waist. “For every new pair I buy, I need to donate another.”
“Donate?”
“To charity, goodwill, the homeless.”
My features show him a tortured look while my hands snake up to his arms.
It’s definitely going to be Wendy’s.
“Bodi, that’s so sweet.” He is so thoughtful about the world around him, always considerate of everyone, and it makes his heart grow bigger and bigger in my mind. He’s beautiful in more ways than one, and my heart rate thunders every time I learn something new.
He doesn’t reply, but instead presses his lips against mine, his hands sliding into my hair. “You can’t be in here.”
His words hold a reprimanding tone, going back to his we can’t do this attitude he seems adamant to keep. But I can feel how turned on he is when he pushes his palms underneath my shirt.
“I don’t see why not?”
“Because now I want to fuck you in my closet.”
“Now who’s blunt?” He lets out a grunt in reply. “What’s stopping you?”
He bites my lip, followed by his tongue licking my seam, an act that has my pussy fluttering in excitement. “Dinner.”
“Hmm, forget about that,” I push my tongue against his, sensual, slow, tempting . “Let’s order in.”
“No fucking way. Now I want to know what you made.”
I moan, deepening the kiss. “Mac and cheese.”
“Mac and cheese?” I don’t miss his little scrunch of disapproval.
“But! I pulled a recipe from the internet to make it a little more... well, I don’t know?”
“Tasteful?” he mocks.
“Well, yeah.”
“Aren’t you supposed to keep stirring that?”
“I’d rather keep stirring you.”
“That’s dessert.”
“I hate your amount of willpower.”
“I’ll make it up to you after dinner.”
“Fine!” I groan, then break loose, darting out of the room while he’s chuckling behind me.
When I reach the kitchen, I take the pan off the stove, stirring the sticky stuff to check it hasn’t burned to the bottom. Luckily, it’s still good, and I pull two plates from the cabinets.
“I can’t believe you actually made mac do I like it? Does it have a good plot? Do I think I can sell it? If the answer is yes, I will publish it.”
I never thought about it like that.
I stay quiet, my jaw sitting somewhere on the floor until he literally places his fingers under my chin to close it.
“Are you okay?” he asks, smiling at my reaction.
“I’m just shocked. Here I thought you were like the master in English. You own the company that has published four bestsellers in the last two years.”
“Nope,” he says, popping his P . “I just created a business to be able to share my love for books.”
“So, what are you saying?” My eyes are sparkling, bemused by this new development.
“I’m saying that you don’t need a degree to be able to see if this is a good book.” He pricks his finger in the paper. “You’re a reader. You love to read. The question is: do you enjoy it? Because if you do, there will be other people who will enjoy it too. Your opinion matters just as much as any of my editor’s.”
Your opinion matters just as much.
It’s like he knows exactly what to say to make me just want to hand over my heart, begging for him to hold it. To keep it safe in his strong hands. And for the first time since I walked out of Stanford, I’m wondering if I can have a future in publishing without going to an Ivy League school.
“Who sparked your love for books?”
“My mother.” He smiles. “When I was younger, I remember her reading to me every chance she got. It made me fall in love with the craft of storytelling. With fiction.”
“What is your favorite genre?” I tilt my head, interested in his answer.
“Political Thrillers.” It doesn’t surprise me. Bodi is smart. Something tells me he doesn’t want to read a book that doesn’t challenge him at least a little bit. To give him that brain exercise that makes him the wise man he is today.
“Why?”
“Because they can give you a few hours of entertainment where you can escape the world, get completely sucked into the story, and when done right, it also makes you question your own world at the end.”
See, wise man.
I hang on to his lip, listening to whatever he has to say.
“What about you? What do you like to read?”
“Historical romance.”
He cocks his head in surprise.
“What?” I screech.
“Nothing.”
“I guess for the same reason as you. I like the idea of love. The idea of being destined for each other, completing each other.” I bravely hold his gaze. “The idea that two souls connect, no matter their circumstances. But I don’t just want to read smutty romance. I like the realization that at the end, I learned something about history. About what the world looked like before I was alive.”
He presses his lips together. “See, you totally just showed why you could never get kicked out of Stanford.”
I could interpret his remark as judging, reprimanding, but the proud look in his eyes just shows me he’s telling me because he wants to acknowledge my intellect. To tell me that I’m too smart to fail my classes.
Can I trust him?
I want to tell him everything because my heart thinks that out of all people, he won’t judge me. He will wrap his arms around me, telling me it will be fine. But the shame is overwhelming, making me chicken out like a little girl every single time.
“Thank you,” I reply, then place my hand on his arm. “I will tell you.” I pause. “When I’m ready, okay?”
He leans in to cup my cheek, close enough for me to feel his breath roam over my cheek.
“You don’t have to tell me, baby. Just know that I’m here if you want to talk to anyone. I’m here for you.” I feel tears form in my eyes, but before I have to swallow them away, he pulls me into his chest, giving me the opportunity to hide my emotion as he flips the channel. “Let’s watch a movie, okay?”
I smile, sucking in a lungful of air that comes with a content feeling.
“Yeah,” I whisper, with my face pressed against his chest.
His heartbeat drums underneath my ear, and when I close my eyes, I can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, his heart beats for me a little more every day.
Because I know mine does for him.