Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
IGGY
I felt like I was floating. Like a balloon filled to the brim with helium, and Bodhi was the string tethering me to earth. It was like the best kind of high, but without the comedown and withdrawals that always followed.
I couldn’t believe I’d just danced. I’d performed on a stage for the first time since my injury four years ago. Since a stupid mistake ended my career in a split second and my dream went up in flames.
And it was all because of Bodhi.
The seats had been empty, except for one in the middle of the front row.
But it didn’t matter. Not really. The weight of his attention was enough to fill the room.
His awe as I performed move after move. A pirouette en dehors into a grand jeté.
Cha?né turns into a sudden pas de bourrée and cabriole. An arabesque. A manège.
For a moment, it felt like I’d never left the Royal.
At least until I attempted a double tour en l’air and landed wrong.
Until the shooting pain in my hip sent me to my knees, reminding me that I was no longer a professional.
Before, that kind of reminder would’ve sent me spiralling.
Would’ve ignited the need for something toxic, something that could dull the pain and leave only numbness behind. But now . . .
Now I just felt happy.
The kind of happy you feel when you look at an old photograph. When the memory is soft around the edges, warm instead of sharp. Satisfied that I’d given it my all, even if I’d only been dancing for one person. Proud of what I could still do, even if it wasn’t perfect anymore.
It didn’t matter that it wasn’t perfect, because Bodhi still thought I looked beautiful.
And that meant everything to me.
After a quick pit stop for some gelato, we returned to the hotel. I was tucked into Bodhi’s side, already planning to follow him to his room, when we bumped into Clara at the lifts.
“Hey, you two,” she greeted pleasantly. “What have you been up to?”
We shifted awkwardly, trying to put space between us without making it obvious. I didn’t know why we bothered. It wasn’t hard to miss the way I’d been staring at Bodhi like he’d hung the moon as we walked in, or his arm wrapped tightly around my waist in a way that wasn’t exactly platonic.
My face was free of makeup after washing away what little remained in the fancy bathrooms at the theatre. But our outfits gave us away anyway. We’d clearly been somewhere fancy. Somewhere that might’ve counted as a date.
“Uh . . .” I tucked some hair behind my ear, unable to meet her gaze. “Bodhi took me to the ballet.”
“Then we had gelato,” he added.
Her eyes narrowed a fraction, like she was reading between lines we were desperately trying to keep hidden. At least for now. Then she nodded once. “Huh. Sounds fun.”
The lift doors slid open, and the three of us stepped inside. A heavy, awkward silence filled the space. Bodhi on one side of the car. Me on the other. Clara planted squarely between us. It took everything in me not to look over her head at him, not to check if he was panicking the way I was.
When the lift spat us out on the third floor, I practically leapt through the doors, Bodhi close behind. Our rooms were to the left. Clara’s was on the right. We said our goodbyes quickly and turned to leave.
But Clara stopped us before we could get far.
“I won’t say anything about this. For now.”
I glanced over my shoulder, almost relieved to see her smirking. Then it faded, and she lifted her chin, slipping back into her role as Noctis’s manager.
“As long as it doesn’t affect the tour.”
The warning sat heavy in the air.
As long as neither of us did anything that could risk Bodhi’s sobriety. As long as nothing threatened the tour their label had spent an obscene amount of money on.
Little did she know, I had my own sobriety to worry about. So there was no doubt we’d be careful. No doubt we’d avoid doing anything that could hurt either of us.
Secret sort-of-but-also-not-really relationship or not.
“Right,” I replied, and Bodhi nodded once.
Then Clara was gone, slipping into her room further down the hallway, leaving us alone.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. We just stared down the empty corridor where she’d disappeared. Then we looked at each other, Bodhi’s eyes just as wide as mine.
And we laughed.
Hunched over, stomach-clutching, tears-in-your-eyes, almost hysterical laughter.
“I thought . . .” I gasped, trying to breathe through the giggles. “I thought she was about to murder us.”
“I know.” Bodhi wiped at his eyes, still laughing. “I was already thinking about how shit Riff’s eulogy would be at my funeral.”
That only made me laugh harder as we stumbled through the door into Bodhi’s hotel room.
But the air changed the second the door closed behind me. It thickened. Charged. Heavy with anticipation. Like the pause before the first crack of lightning.
I leaned back against the door as Bodhi crowded my space, every fine hair on my body standing on end.
He braced one hand against the wood beside my head, the other settling carefully on my injured hip.
His thumb brushed the bare strip of skin at my midriff, between the hem of my blazer and the waistband of my skirt.
I shivered. Goosebumps bloomed in the wake of his touch.
He leaned in until there was barely an inch between us.
Close enough that I could feel his warmth through our clothes.
I still hadn’t seen him fully naked. Only his lower half, mostly hidden in a dark room we hadn’t been meant to be in.
Knowing there were parts of him I hadn’t touched yet made my chest ache.
I wanted to unwrap him slowly. Trace the art inked into his skin with my mouth. See the cock that had felt heavy on my tongue when I’d worshipped it in the dark.
The thought made my mouth water. And judging by the erection pressing into my groin, he was thinking along the same lines.
Then he asked softly, “How’s your hip?”
And just like that, the moment sagged.
The ache from dancing still lingered, a dull throb that promised worse if I pushed it. The hunger in his eyes told me exactly what he wanted. I was sure mine reflected the same. But I didn’t want our first time to be tangled up with pain, or frustration, or my body failing me halfway through.
So I told the truth.
“Still aching,” I admitted, pouting despite myself.
Bodhi smiled and kissed the tip of my nose. “Where’s your room key?”
“In my bag,” I said, lifting it slightly. “Why?”
“Because . . .”
He kissed my cheek.
“I’m going to go to your room . . .”
My other cheek.
“Get a heat pad and an ice pack . . .”
My forehead.
“And then we’re going to get naked . . .”
My chin.
“Get into bed . . .”
My lips.
“And cuddle.”
A strand of hair fell into his eyes, and I reached up to brush it back.
“With anime?” I asked, almost hopeful.
Because whatever Bodhi liked, I wanted to like too. And it seemed he’d converted me.
“You bet,” he said, smiling.
This time, I kissed him.
“Sounds perfect.”
I woke with a start. Too warm. Too tight in my own skin.
My face was buried in the pillow, blood fizzing through my veins like a bath bomb.
When my hips pressed into the mattress as I squirmed, a whimper tore out of me, sharp and humiliating in the quiet of Bodhi’s room.
My cock was hard, trapped between my stomach and the sheets, the friction offering only the barest hint of relief.
Warm lamplight filled the room. I lifted my head to find Bodhi watching me, eyes heavy with sleep. His pillow had left a red indent on his cheek, his hair sticking out in every direction like he’d dragged his hands through it one last time before dozing off.
“Are you alright?” he asked, voice rough like gravel.
He’d sat up, the duvet pooled around his hips, and his bare torso was on display, dark lines of ink stark against porcelain skin. Backlit by the bedside lamp, he looked unreal. A fallen angel. The rough-edged god he became onstage.
Christ. He was magnificent.
I wanted to devour him. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Wanted his mouth on my skin, his tongue in my mouth, his cock buried deep inside me. The image of him mounting me, fucking me into the mattress, made my hips twitch. Another broken whimper slipped out as the head of my cock brushed the sheets.
He’d scored me more Tylenol from Clara earlier, claiming another headache. But with lust burning through me from head to toe, I had to wonder if she’d slipped us Viagra as a joke.
Bodhi’s gaze darkened. He licked his lips, then leaned onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow.
His free hand reached out, tugging the duvet down inch by inch, exposing me completely.
Naked, just like he’d insisted when we climbed into bed, determined to torture ourselves by cuddling skin to skin.
Earlier, the ache in my hip had kept me half soft at best. Now, rested and medicated, my body was very much awake.
“Look at this ass,” he breathed.
His fingers brushed my crease, light enough to make me jump, bucking into the mattress. I spread my legs, inviting him closer. Begging without words. When his fingertip teased my hole, barely there, I pushed back, desperate for pressure. For more. Anything he was willing to give.
Instead of giving me what I wanted, he pulled away, smirking.
“Bodhi,” I whined, breathless. “Please.”
He rolled over me, his weight settling in, his hard cock pressing between my ass cheeks. I tried to grind back against him, to line us up the way my body demanded. But his hand slid into my hair, fingers curling tight, tugging my head back and baring my throat.
His lips found my pulse.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, kissing along my neck, nipping the spot where it met my jaw. “I could eat you up.”
“Yes,” I hissed. “Do that. Definitely do that.”
His chuckle was low and dark. He rolled his hips, dragging his cock against me. “You want me to fuck you, baby?”
I nodded as much as I could with his fist in my hair. “Please.”