Page 93 of What If I Knew You

“I’m going to kiss you now, Corrigan. Right here in the pouring rain. Because Ella and the guys told me earlier that it was supposed to rain and if it did I needed to kiss you in a downpour because apparently it’s fucking romantic and melts every girl’s heart. So, this is your warning, alright? If you don’t want me to kiss you, you need to tell me right now.”

He watches me for only a moment and I’m so flabbergasted by his words I can’t think of anything to say.

“One…”

“Two…”

He doesn’t wait for three. Instead, he pushes his hands through my wet hair, palms my cheeks, and crashes his soft warm lips to mine. His kiss is firm but with a gentle pressure ashis mouth guides mine open. His tongue dips fervently inside, tasting me with a moan-inducing lick. My hands move to his shirt, gripping the material and pulling him tightly against me as if he is my lifeline in an unsettled sea of emotions. Slowly and gently, he pulls away, his forehead connecting to mine as we stand in the rain together.

“Come upstairs with me,” he murmurs.

“I’m soaked.”

“Right.” He smiles but his eyes are closed and then before I know it, he slips a hand underneath my legs and lifts me into his arms and carries me inside the building. When we reach the front security desk, he tosses his key to the man sitting there and says, “Tucker, will you park her for me?”

“Sure thing, Bodhi.”

“Thanks.”

Bodhi keeps walking toward the elevators but I watch Tucker smile at us as we pass by and I wave helplessly. He waves back with a friendly smile and then heads out to Bodhi’s car. Once in the elevator Bodhi kisses my forehead and then murmurs again, “Come upstairs with me.”

I let out a soft laugh. “I think I’m already on my way.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CORRIGAN

He sets me down on my feet inside his palatial looking apartment, my eyes immediately trying to take in my surroundings. The entryway leads into an open living room with warm ivory walls and oversized windows adorned with white curtains. There’s an ivory sectional in the middle of the room situated on a shaggy rug with flecks of white, gray, and blue. The large painting of the ocean on the wall opposite the television gives off a relaxing beach house vibe.

“Did you design this yourself?” I ask Bodhi as he unbuttons the front of my dress. When it falls open, he gently peels it off my wet shoulders and lets it drop with a thud to the ground.

“No.” He merely shakes his head, his gaze never leaving mine even as my nervous eyes dart around the room. “It was like this when I got here.”

“It’s lovely.”

“You’re lovely.”

“Bodhi,” I whisper with a tremor to my voice.

“Step out of your shoes,” he tells me as he does the same. Something about the raspy timber of his voice has me wanting to comply with anything he asks of me. He tears off his t-shirt andstands in front of me nearly naked but for a pair of soaking wet athletic shorts.

I slip off my sandals and push them to the side.

He reaches behind me and disconnects my bra with ease this time rather than getting frustrated and ripping it to shreds like the last time.

I lift a brow. “Have you been practicing Bodhi?”

He smiles but doesn’t answer me at first. He pulls my bra straps away from my skin and then peels the wet garment off me, dropping it on my pile of clothes.

“Would you laugh at me if I said yes?”

“I might,” I say with a mischievous grin. “But I might also be extremely impressed.”

“I don’t like to not be good at what I do.” He crouches down, slipping two fingers between my body and the fabric of my panties and then shimmies them down my legs, kissing my thighs as he lifts each of my feet to remove them.

“Trust me, Bodhi,” I breathe, “you’re anything but bad at what you do.”

He stands up straight, his gaze falling over my naked body, and shakes his head. “Jesus fucking Christ. Corrigan Hicks, you are…”

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