“Bodhi plus Henna,” he whispers.

“Henna plus Bodhi,” I whisper back a second before he kisses me.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

We make it another week without our secret leaking to the powers that be.

Another week of watching Bodhi play his role as Mr. Malone during my third hour study hall.

Another week of me visiting Barrett after school each day to share edibles or share a joint.

Then I get my period.

Yay me.

I spend my after-school hours during period week at home getting high and eating chips while watching TV. I inherited my mom’s awful periods.

Yay me again.

What I’ve discovered is that I don’t have a needy boyfriend. Bodhi seems to love spending time with me, sexless time, but when we can’t be together, he’s focused on his dad, the ranch, or school responsibilities. It’s a fascinating experience dating a true adult. I’m handling it surprisingly well.

“I’m done.” I announce after fifteen minutes of silence in Bodhi’s office.

He looks up. “Done?”

I sigh. “With the thing I had going on last week.”

Wrinkles line his forehead as he shoots me a funny look. “You mean your period?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes.”

“Oh. Well …” He studies me. “Congratulations?”

I snort. “You’re such a nerd.”

“How are your grades?” His hands do their awkward fumbling over the keyboard, then he pauses. “Straight A’s. Good job, Henna.”

“Does that earn me a reward?”

He leans back in his chair, fingers laced behind his head. “Such as?”

Damn … he’s so sexy.

Bodhi narrows his eyes in suspicion, and most likely a little distrust, when I move from my chair to the door. “Henna … no.”

I lock the door anyway.

“I could get fired for having a student in my office with the door locked.”

“If you get caught. You know everyone knocks. They don’t even try to open the door until you respond.” Prowling toward him, I slip off my denim jacket. “Remember that night at your house … on the stairs?”

He shakes his head. “Not here.”

“Carpe diem, Mr. Malone.” I slide off my fitted neon yellow tee, revealing a black lace bra.

Bodhi’s Adam’s apple makes a slow dip as his eyes flash to the door. His nerves are palpable.

I kick off my flashy gold sneakers and unfasten my ripped jeans and shimmy out of them, luring Bodhi with my flirty grin. His lips part and I want to taste them, tempt them, and drive them so crazy they can’t help but devour me.

“Henna …”

“Miss Lane.” I sit on the edge of his desk. He rolls back in his chair just enough to accommodate me. “Today I’m Miss Lane, and you are Mr. Malone.”

His gaze homes in on the apex of my legs as I plant each foot on the arms of his chair.

“The thong is new. You like, Mr. Malone?” I lean back on my hands, tossing my dark auburn hair over my shoulder.

The indecision on Bodhi’s face has a way of slicing into my heart. He’s twenty-six. No twenty-six-year-old should have to bear the weight of the whole world, but he does.

“You know…” I slide my finger under the thin strip of material and pull my thong to the side “…forbidden can be sexy.”

Geez. It’s like he’s watching someone kill a litter of puppies. So much anguish. I press pause on the sexy scene I planned out in my head this morning.

Easing off the desk, I straddle his lap, framing his handsome face. “We live in a cage, and I hate it. The rules. The constant looking over our shoulders.”

“The rules are there to keep bad things from happening,” he says.

“The rules reward those who conform. They stifle independence, creativity, and freedom.”

He shakes his head. “Without them, you would have nothing to break.”

I blink several times. Bodhi grins.

The world doesn’t understand us. They don’t understand that someday I’m going to make babies with this man, and sitting on his lap, half-naked behind the locked door, is not wrong or forbidden.

It’s basic.

It’s simple.

It’s us—Henna and Bodhi.

It’s life.

“What’s going through that head of yours?” He searches every inch of my face.

“I’m imagining what our kids are going to look like?”

Well, shit … there goes his smile.

“Don’t.” I rest my forehead on his, closing my eyes as my hands slide from his neck to his shoulders and down his chest. “Don’t think about everything that stands between now and the future. Just … for the next fifteen minutes pretend that you can have absolutely anything in life you want.” I feather kisses down his cheek to his ear and whisper, “For fifteen minutes, be limitless with me.”

Warm hands rest on my hips as hungry lips claim mine. My fingers slide up his face, finding their favorite place in his hair. He releases a sexy growl when I tug to deepen our kiss. Greedy hands find their spot palming my ass—hard—scooting me closer. Like kneading dough, he squeezes it, pushing and pulling to work me over his erection.

I like out-of-control Bodhi. Unraveling him is an experience like no other. Lips, jaw, neck, shoulder—his mouth can’t decide what it craves the most. “Our babies…” his lips pull into a grin against my neck “…will have fiery red hair, and they will be rock stars.”

His words overflow my heart, dripping down … staining my soul with the most beautiful promise.

Grinning, I close my eyes and let my mind follow that dream. The artist in me paints it with vivid color. The hands of my imagination sculpt every tiny detail.

Bodhi eases down the straps to my bra while his lips brush along the swell of my breasts. He stops, pulling back an inch while lifting a single brow at the condom that I shoved into my bra this morning.

Relinquishing a sheepish grin, I lift my shoulders. “A girl can dream.”

Blink. Blink.

I hold my breath, waiting to see if Bodhi can truly be limitless with me. He’s going to clam up on me and say no. I deflate a little.

“Well, let’s see if it fits.”

My gaze shoots to his. “The condom on you or you inside of me?”

His grin doubles on a soft chuckle. “Both.”

I crash my lips to his. “I love you. I love you. I love you,” I mumble without moving from his mouth.

Bodhi squeezes my breast with one hand and his other hand snakes between us. I moan as his fingers play between my legs, getting me very, very wet. “Baby?” His heavy breaths fall against my cheek. “It kills me to rush this, but …” He slides two fingers inside of me, twisting, stretching, and readying me for him.

“We have to hurry,” I finish his thought with my own breathless words.

Bodhi nods. I rip open the condom wrapper as he frees his erection. My hands shake, nearly dropping it on the ground.

He glances up at me with a half smile. “Should I do it?”

Fire plumes along my cheeks. I shake my head, forcing my hands and mind to focus. “I’ve got it.” I press it to the swollen head of his cock.

“Other way,” he says.

“Oh … okay.” I flip it the other way and try to roll it down over his length, but it doesn’t want to cooperate. I rub it between my thumbs and middle fingers. “Shit!” I freeze.

We stare at the torn condom.

“My fingernail got it.”

“Get another one.” He bends down and sucks in my nipple.

My eyes fight to stay open when his mouth on my breast sends a jolt of pleasure straight between my legs. “I-I don’t have another one.”

He lets my nipple pop out of his mouth, eyes aimed up at me. “What?”

I shake my head. “Just one. Don’t tell Juni. She insists on at least a twelve-pack.”

Exhaling, he drops his forehead to my chest. “I’m so fucking hard and the stupid bell is going to ring in…” he glances up at the clock “…seven minutes.”

I climb off his lap and kneel between his legs.

“Henna,” he says in a husky voice filled with warning.

I rub my lips together as he strokes himself a few times.

“You’re going to tell me no, aren’t you?” I give him my most disappointed frown.

Eyes hooded, he draws in his lower lip with his teeth while his hand squeezes his cock, making slow, hard strokes. “I’m going to tell you you’re down to five minutes, so don’t lick it like one of your lollipops, suck it in hard and deep like the last drag of a joint.” He keeps his gaze unwavering as one corner of his mouth curls a fraction. It’s so wicked and so fucking sexy.

Honestly, the way he hisses when I take him as deep as I can, I don’t think he’ll make it thirty seconds.

Two minutes.

He makes it two minutes. It’s pretty impressive under the circumstances.

With three minutes to spare, we piece ourselves back together.

“You have to take this and throw it in the trash at home. Not in my office. Not in the restroom. Not on school property. Don’t forget and leave it in your purse. Don’t slip it in your pocket. And for the love of God, don’t use it as a bookmark. Okay?”