Page 64 of Forbidden You

If nervousness was an emotion the devil fed on, I’d be sucked into hell ten minutes ago. How the fuck am I going to survive tonight without my armpits swimming in sweat?

The last time I went to something like this, it was a cocktail party for Trent’s tennis sponsors, and he constantly whispered in my ear how to behave.

Shoulders straight.If I’d put them more straight, I’d break my spine

For fucks sake, Kayla, smile.I smiled until it fucking hurt.

Don’t flirt with him, he could be your dad, you slut.I wasn’t.

I was smiling like he ordered me to, and by the end of the night, he took a full hour to tell me how much I disappointed him before he fell asleep on too much whiskey.

What if I embarrass Bodi tonight?

What if I don’t act like I should?

What if I disappoint him?

What if I don’t?

I blink at my own thoughts, my blue eyes peering back at me in the mirror, while I suck in a lungful of air. Right, Bodi is not Trent. Besides, it’s just an office party.

Nothing insane like the charity ball coming up, don’t even wanna think of the pressure that comes with that, but this is casual.Fun. I can do this.

I give myself another 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 good.

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, a dozen butterflies racing 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.”

Relief flows into my muscles.

“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, the tension crackles between us 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 has my heart pound vigorously 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.

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