22
KAYLA
Unapologetically,Iburstthrough his bedroom door, right in time to see him walking 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.
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.
“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 have 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.
“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 seems to rise every time I learn something new.
He doesn’t reply, but instead presses his lips against mine. “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.”
“Oh, shit!” I break loose, darting out of the room while I hear him chuckling behind me.
When I reach the kitchen, I take the pan off the stove, stirring the sticky stuff to make sure it doesn’t burn to the bottom. Luckily, it’s still good, and I pull two plates from the cabinets.
“You seriously cooked for me?” I turn around, and he’s rubbing his neck with a surprised look written on his face. “When you said you were going to fix us dinner, I thought you were going to walk to the diner on the corner for some takeout?”
“Now, don’t get too excited.” I put up my hands, placating in case my next words disappoint him. “It’s nothing special, and definitely not healthy, because, well, I can’t really cook.” I shrug. “But you’ve been cooking for me a lot and I wanted to return the favor.”
A grin splits his face, his eyes glittering. “What did you make?”
“Mac and cheese.”
He snorts.
“But! I pulled a recipe from the internet to make it a little more... well, I don’t know?”
“Tasteful?” he mocks.
Rapidly, I throw the dishcloth sitting on the counter at his head, and he catches it while chuckles fall from his lips. “Shut up, jackass.”
I twist back to the counter, dividing the mac and cheese over the two plates with a nervous feeling sitting inside of me. When I walked to the store thirty minutes ago, I knew I wanted to cook for him, but I also knew I couldn’t cook for shit. But my confidence decided he was just going to eat whatever I put in front of his face. Now that it’s done, though? I don’t feel so confident anymore.
I hear his footsteps approaching me and his arms wrap around my waist as he presses his chest against my back, glancing over my shoulder.
“It looks good, babe.” He pushes my hair to the side, giving him free access to plaster a trail of kisses down my neck.
“You’re lying, aren’t you?” I ask, insecurely.
“No. Who doesn’t love mac and cheese?”
“I’m guessing you.”
“It’s a valid assumption, but I happen to love mac and cheese.” He spins me in his arms, cupping my chin so I’m forced to look up at him.
“Really?”
“Really.” He smiles. “When I was eight,” he says playfully. “But still.”
”Asshole.” I swat his chest before his gaze turns serious, peering down at me like it’s really important what it’s about to come next.
“I don’t care if it tastes like dog shit.” His nose brushes against mine. “I love the fact that you wanted to cook for me.” He gives me a gentle kiss. “Thank you.”
Letting go of me, he takes the plates from the counter before walking them back to the breakfast bar. He sets them down on the placemats, then fills both glasses with water from the pitcher I put there when I was setting the table.
A little stunned at his reply, I’m still standing there, watching his every move. He walks through the room with a cocky level of self-confidence that turns me on every minute of the day, but at the same time, he has this pure glow lighting him up, showing the sincerity of everything that he does. It brings out a feeling inside of me that I’m so desperately trying to ignore. I know he has some kind of stupid no dating rule, and when we first had that talk, I saw it as a challenge. I never expected to form real feelings for Bodi, because as much as I taunt him about it, tempting him to cross every line he sets, I also have a little voice in my head that’s telling me he’s right about all his hesitations.
But I want him.
I crave him every single minute, and I don’t see that ending in the foreseeable future. Soon, I’ll find my own apartment, and all this homey stuff we’ve been creating will be gone. He’s my friend who I sleep with. But the last few days, stupid questions keep flying through my head.
Questions like... What if I don’t leave? What if it’s not just sex? What if I want him to be something more?
Questions I need to continue ignoring, pushing them away as much as I can, simply because I already know the answer if I were to ask Bodi. He will throw every excuse he has into my face, no matter what counter response I might have. And maybe he’s right. Maybe the age difference is too big. Maybe we really do want different things in life. But for every maybe, there is a loud as fuck what if?
“Are you coming?” He twists his head to me with a lopsided grin, totally aware of me gawking at him.