Page 119

“Can I hold your hand?”

I paused. And paused. And then–

“Yes.”

Jihoon slid his hand across the soft sheets and tangled his fingers with mine, pulling my hand towards him with a sound somewhere between a sigh and a hitched breath.

The silence ebbed and flowed around us, passing from one moment where I wanted to fill it with something, to the next where I only wanted to hear the sound of his breathing as he gently rubbed his thumb over my knuckles.

“Joon, that day in Manila, when we had the fight after I got back to the hotel. Why didn’t you try to kiss me? It felt like you wanted to. I thought you were going to.”

The question came easier in the dark. He momentarily paused the way he stroked my hand.

“I wanted to,” he said after a moment. “I knew you would have let me.”

He was right. I would have, and the understanding, and the knowledge that he’d known made my toes curl.

“Why then, when you’d said you were trying to ‘court’ me?” The grin came easier now, and I could practically feel the blush creep up his cheeks.

“It was hard to walk away from you,” he admitted, fingers momentarily flexing. “You have no idea. But I didn’t want to win you like that. It would have been too easy for you to regret something we did in the heat of the moment.”

His words reminded me of London. Of how, once again, I would have welcomed his kiss. More, perhaps. But he’d walked away.

“If we–” he blew out a breath. “I need you to be all in. Eyes open. Not–not reacting.”

My chest tightened and I was glad of the forgiving darkness.

“Eyes open,” I repeated, slowly.

“You know who I am, jagiya. You know my life. You know the things I have done. The first time, it felt so explosive. Like I couldn’t not have you. This time… if,” he paused. “If you want this, it can’t be just because you want me. It’s not enough. It was never enough.”

My eyes slid closed, and I fought the urge to say something, because I didn’t know if I would have agreed, or fought him on it. It didn’t matter. It hadn’t mattered in the end.

“Eyes open,” he said again, resuming the gentle strokes across my knuckles.

“I forgive you, Jihoon. I forgave you a long time ago, but I think I’m still angry at you. Perhaps also at myself.”

He didn’t try to defend himself, or argue. “I know.”

“I’d need to let that go.”

“I know, but you don’t have to do that now, Kaiya. Sleep.”

I wanted to use this space, this private bubble of stolen time to talk to him, to relearn him, but I was exhausted and I knew I couldn’t fix everything in the hours between now and dawn, when the world would find us again. So, I closed my eyes and let this be enough.

I woke before he did. The soft buttery light of the early morning slid across the sheets and painted his face in shades of gold and bronze, and for a while I just watched him.

There was no tension in the lines of his face, no carefully designed expression meant for public consumption. Just him.

“Kaiya, you’re thinking too loudly,” he rumbled.

I jolted, and buried my face in the pillow, mortified. I heard his sleepy huff of laughter a moment before his warm palm ran up my arm.

“Now you’re hiding from me?”

I turned my face just enough to peek at him through my hair. “Not hiding. Just… yes, okay. Hiding.”

His hand travelled up my arm to my shoulder, and I felt him shifting next to me. Fingers running over my hair before he pushed it behind my ear. I shivered, because all at once it felt new, and heartbreakingly familiar.