Born for Leaving (New England State of Mind Book 1) by Mia Kerick & Jude Munro

Author:Mia Kerick & Jude Munro [Kerick, Mia & Munro, Jude]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mia Kerick writing as Jude Munro
Published: 2020-07-01T18:30:00+00:00

We find ourselves stretched out on my bed less than an hour after we finish our fourth drinks.

“My sides don’t ache anymore,” I offer brightly, alerting Bodie to my current relatively pain-free status.

“We drank so much, I don’t think anything could possibly ache on either of us, Ollie.”

Tonight’s goal was never intoxication, but it certainly helps with what I have in mind. “Take your clothes off.” Spoken in a whisper, and a hopeful one at that.

His eyes widen and then narrow into wary slits. Maybe he’s not as drunk as I am. Or as ready for what typically comes next on date night.

“I want to see all of you.”

Bodie pushes himself up to sit rigidly on the edge of the bed. His wide shoulders curl inward, as if to hide from me. It hurts to see such a strong and fearless man so distressed by the mere thought of an act I’m fairly sure he wants as much as I do. Based on the haste with which he paid the bill, escorted me from the bar, summoned an Uber instead of waiting for the beach shuttle, and whisked me into the bedroom the moment we returned to the cottage, my assumption was that we were on the same page—that it was time for physical intimacy. So I press on, hoping he’ll decide that he can trust me with his body.

“There’s…there’s something…I want to do…to you.” Unfortunately, my courtly date night behavior has slipped away. I’ve morphed into a horny sixteen-year-old boy.

Bodie stiffens in a way that reminds me of the first time I wrapped my arms around him on the back of his Harley.

“And you said I could do it when I wasn’t in so much pain…and now I’m not.” My plea is literally whined. Could I be more artless if I tried?

Apparently not, seeing as Bodie is still frozen.

“If you don’t like it, I promise I’ll stop.” I’m utterly clueless in matters of romance.

But he allows a drawn-out exhalation. A sign of frustration? Or a simple release of stress?

“Trust me, Bodie. Because, honest to God, I’m starting to trust you.” A most difficult admission.

My declaration seems to reconnect us. Gradually, his wide shoulders relax. Gaze fixed on the wall, Bodie reaches up to the top button on his shirt and unbuttons it. Then, with shaky fingers, he undoes each one. When his shirt hangs loosely open, I sit up behind him, draw it back from his wide shoulders, and kiss the side of his neck. Immediately, he gasps and braces himself on the edge of the bed. Too much, too soon.

I need to take this slowly, so rather than working my way south, I focus on his strapping back. A worthwhile target of my attention. I devote long minutes to running my fingertips up and down its broad expanse, kissing away his shivers.

“Ollie, what y-you do to me,” he utters. The trembling in his voice is a bittersweet reminder of my predicament. Is it something wonderful I do to Bodie? Or do I scare the living crap out of him? Maybe it’s a bit of both.

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