17
KAYLA
Igivemyselfanother look in the mirror, inspecting every potential fold of my silk black dress. The fabric hugs my hips perfectly, and combined with the heart-shaped bust, it brings out all my features. The sides of my hair are braided on the back of my head, taking control of the rest of my voluminous curls to keep it out of my face. I look classy and feel sexy, but I wouldn’t be me if I wouldn’t top it off with a little more edge, so I put on my shoes with a smile splitting my face. Pleased, I grab my clutch, then walk out of my bedroom door. Bodi has his back pressed against the kitchen island, his gaze plastered on his phone, and I take this moment to gawk at him shamelessly.
He’s wearing a white dress shirt with a bow tie. His sleeves are rolled up as always and his hair is perfectly styled. But it’s the black jeans and white sneakers that make me realize the man is something else. He’s the only man I’ve ever seen that can create a casual look from formal wear and get away with it without looking like a teenage rebel.
He’s so fucking handsome it makes my thighs clench together. I clear my throat to catch his attention and he looks up.
His green eyes grow wide with a glint that heats my chest, making a dozen butterflies race through my stomach. It’s a glint of awe. A glint that screams desire. His gaze runs down my body until they reach the floor and the corner of his mouth curls.
“Are those Doc Martens?”
I nod.
“You look amazing.”
“So do you,” I offer with a wink as I close the distance between us. He places his phone on the kitchen island, then presses his hands to the surface while watching me get closer with every step.
When I’m in front of him, I can feel the tension rise and I swallow to get rid of the dryness in my mouth.
“Are you gripping the counter to prevent yourself from touching me?”
“Yes,” he discloses honestly.
It’s an answer that makes my heart pound harder against my ribcage with a deafening sound. One that is the reason I keep pushing the lines, defying the boundaries. Because I know it’s not just me who’s consumed by this irresistible attraction between us.
He feels it too.
I take one final step, grabbing the side of his shirt while standing as close as possible without our bodies touching. “But what if I want you to touch me?”
“If I touch you now, we won’t be going to the party,” he rumbles, both amused and annoyed. I tick him off, I know I do. But I can’t help wondering if it’s me who frustrates him, or if it’s his own indecisive mind.
“Would that be so bad?”
“It’s my company. I’m the boss.” He emphasizes the last word, trying to make me acknowledge the reality of our relationship. Seems like a futile effort by now, if you ask me.
“And?” I taunt, fluttering my lashes.
“And I need to make an appearance.”
I hold his gaze, a smile sitting on my lips. If I press my lips to his right now, I know he will cower. I know I can strip him naked and he’ll remember exactly why we should give in to our burning chemistry, but I want him to come to me. I want to taunt him until he can’t take it anymore and throws me against a wall without any restraint.
“Fine.” I take a step back, and his eyebrows move to his hairline in surprise before they fall with disappointment, proving my point.
I shoot him a teasing smile, making an effort to get to the front door, when he grabs my wrist in a tight grip.
“Wait.”
I look at his confused gaze, his lips parting while I wait for the words to roll off his tongue. Victory settles inside of me, knowing he’s struggling inside, dying to give in to me.
“What?” I question when the silence continues.
He exhales loudly with a big frown, the frustration dripping from his face.
“No drinking tonight,” he finally grunts.
Surprised, I let out a snicker, knowing he’s using it as a cop-out. “Fine.”
He lets go of my wrist and my feet stroll toward the front door before I turn back around with my hand on the doorknob.
He’s still standing there, his hands pressed on the edge of the counter, watching my every move with a pained expression.
“Are you coming?” I gleam.
He nods silently before he saunters behind me with a slight glare.
This is going to be a fun night. I can feel it.
Our eyes stay locked with every move he makes until our connection is interrupted by the sound of his phone, and he pulls it out of his pocket with a sigh, rubbing his face in frustration before he answers.
“Yes?”
Within seconds, the features on his face grow with worry, and I wait with a rush of nerves.
“I understand. I’ll be right there.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask when he hangs up the phone.
“It’s my dad. He’s having another fit. I have to stop by. I’ll drop you at the party first.” His hand lands on the small of my back, guiding me out the door.
“What? No! I’ll come with you.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to. I can drop you off on my way over there.” He looks a bit troubled, clearly not wanting to be a burden, but when I smile, I see a hint of hope in his gaze.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Bodi. Let’s go.” I ignore the grateful expression he shoots me as I strut to the elevator, and he closes up behind me. When our eyes lock, my heart feels like it stops, and I press my back flush against the wall. He can take my breath away at the most insignificant moments, doing something to every fiber in my being.
We ride down and a few minutes later, we’re driving through the city in his red Charger. Even though he still won’t let me drive, sitting next to him as he does feels like this car is as much his as it is mine. Like the passenger seat is mine, and my spot is beside him no matter what. I know it’s bullshit, but I take comfort in these moments, appreciating whatever weird relationship we seem to have built. As much as I feel a huge amount of desire for him, it’s also accompanied by a friendship I’ve never felt for anyone except my cousin. With Bodi around, I don’t feel alone. I trust him. And that is something no man has ever given me.
Ten minutes later, we arrive at Peartree Park, and we make our way through the deserted hallways and upstairs to his father’s room. It isn’t hard to figure out where we need to be, when we hear the blaring roars of his father. Bodi breaks out in a jog, and I follow behind him, appreciating the fact that I’ve put my Doc Martens on instead of my hooker heels.
He crashes through the open door, and I follow just in time to see how he falls to his knees in front of his father.
“Leave me alone, you demons!” The look on Mr. McKay is vacant and dark as he swings his arms around to get everyone off. As if he’s not completely conscious but completely captivated by his confusion. Two male nurses hold his arms back while a female nurse tries to soothe him with comforting words, but it isn’t until his gaze springs to the man jumping in front of his sight that he seems to somewhat snap out of it.
“Dad! I’m here!” Bodi shouts. I hear how he tries to stay in control of his voice, acting like the sensible grown up, but the distress seeps through, regardless.
“No!” Mr. McKay shouts in response. “Ava! Help me! Where is my wife?”
A sad feeling showers my body, feeling the pain of this man asking for his deceased wife rippling through my skin.
“I’m here, Dad! It’s me! Bodi!”
When he hears his son’s name, his expression softens, and I notice how he relaxes his muscles. After a few seconds, Mr. McKay seems to return when a sad yet relieved smile forms on his lips.
“Bodi?”