Page 40 of A World Apart (Between Worlds #1)

Jihoon stopped when he reached the line of my underwear, his fingers playing lightly, back and forth, back and forth. Without meaning to, my hips lifted, trying to aid my body in getting him to where it wanted him to go.

“Slowly,” he chuckled, “there’s no rush.”

I whined. There felt like a rush to me. I was rewarded a moment later though, when Jihoon shifted his weight so that he was lying more fully on his side, draping one leg between my legs. He propped his head up on the hand not currently spinning fire and ice several inches south of my navel.

He looked down at me and said, “Can I touch you?”

“You already are,” I quipped, still riding that edge of frustration, and he chuckled again, mirth with a twinge of something a bit darker; a smokier vibration to his voice that wove into the feeling of anticipation that hadn’t stopped building since the first moment he’d touched me.

Jihoon began to trail his fingers upwards, effortlessly pushing aside the gauzy fabric of my nightgown, grazing my skin so softly it sent shivers coursing through me.

When he reached my bellybutton, my skin jumped and I giggled, slightly breathlessly.

Jihoon looked at me, his lips curved in a slight smirk.

“Ticklish,” I said, by way of explanation.

“That is interesting to know,” he murmured, dancing his fingers further up my belly, dipping into the contours of my waist like he was taking a stroll along my skin. Impatient, I ran my hand over his forearm, feeling the way his muscles contracted beneath his skin as he moved his arm.

Jihoon paused as he got to the bow underneath my breasts.

“What’s this?” He rubbed the satin between his fingers and I swore, it felt as if that bow held me together, as well as the nightgown. He gave the ribbon an experimental tug, just like he’d tugged the tie holding my robe together earlier this evening.

Jihoon lifted his eyes from the ribbon and held my gaze.

After a heart-beats hesitation, he gently, but firmly began to pull on the delicate material.

More and more I felt the fabric give way around me, parting like the scraps of fabric it had only ever been, held together by a well-placed bow.

The last few inches slipped through and the lace parted down the middle, a clear line of my skin exposed between my breasts, running down my abdomen all the way down to my thighs.

Somehow this felt more exposing than when he’d had his hand beneath the material.

Jihoon’s eyes left mine, following the path of skin that had been revealed, like a runway. Softly, he ran one fingertip from my sternum, down to my navel, and back up again. My chest heaved as I shuddered and he raised his eyes back to mine.

“Is this okay?” he asked, and I knew if I said no, he’d cover me with the duvet and that would be the end of it.

I was okay, I was more than okay. I ached, and I needed for him to touch me.

Wordlessly, I wrapped my hand around his wrist and brought his hand back up to where the fabric gaped between my breasts, and I lay it there, over my heart. His palm was warm, the sensation soaking through my skin and deeper as I took a breath that seemed to still leave me breathless.

He swallowed as his fingers twitched, but he held my gaze as he ran his hand back over my breast, moving the fabric of the lace top aside as he did so, revealing me.

My nipple peaked as the delicate fabric ran over it, a soft friction that made me gasp.

As the lace lay to one side, Jihoon moved to my other breast and slid the lace aside there as well.

I now lay under him, completely bare from the waist up, but rather than feel exposed, all I felt was…

cherished. Jihoon looked me over, and when his eyes rose to meet mine, he had such an expression that made my breath catch in my throat.

It was possessive, hungry. Triumphant, almost.

His fingers barely touched me though, hovering as if he was still unsure if I would allow this, or not.

“Touch me,” I rasped, chest heaving. Jihoon ran his thumb over my peaked nipple, cupping me fully in his hand, lightly squeezing me.

His head dipped, and I cried out wordlessly as he pressed soft kisses to my other breast, tonguing my nipple.

The sensation seemed to stretch down my body to a deeper place, like a guitar string that is too tight being plucked.

What had started as soft and gentle soon became a thing more urgent, more firm. My back arched off the bed to meet his insistent touches as I moaned.

Without warning, Jihoon tore his mouth from my breast and crashed his lips down upon mine, pushing his tongue into my mouth in a frantic, desperate sort of kiss. He groaned into my mouth as I met his fervour with my own, raising my hand to his face, holding him to me.

The hand holding my breast began to trail down my body again, not quite so gentle or slow this time, a more determined press of fingers seeking downward until he once again paused at the barrier of my cotton underwear. He slipped just his fingertips underneath the elastic and stopped.

“Is this okay?” he rasped, his voice a deep and dark thing that echoed through me, intensifying the ache and, unbidden, my hips tilted, silently encouraging his downward pursuit with words I didn’t have, so instead I nodded, trying not to draw blood as I bit my lip.

And then, finally, as his fingers skimmed underneath the thin scrap of fabric, I arched against him, almost dislodging him, but for his muscled chest so steady above me.

Almost lazily, my bent leg fell to the side in silent surrender and anxious anticipation. I gasped the moment his fingers trailed down the centre of me, gently exploratory and yet possessive. I felt that in the way his palm firmly pressed down on me, eliciting a small, choked cry.

Jihoon ran his mouth softly up my neck, leaving a trail of small, sweet kisses until he reached my mouth again .

“Is this okay?” he murmured into my lips as he gently pressed a finger against me.

“Yes,” I gasped, the sound swallowed as he kissed me, a claiming and absolute kiss that almost distracted me from the moment he pushed that finger inside of me.

The feeling was so foreign and so all-consuming that I tore my lips from his as my spine arched and my breath caught in my throat. My entire focus shifted to that one finger and the way I pulsed around it, a strange feeling I had no basis for comparison for.

I was panting and yet breathless as Jihoon gently worked his finger in and out, maddeningly slowly. I didn’t want him to stop, couldn’t conceive of it, and yet I knew we were on a precipice I wasn’t sure I could fall over.

“Jihoon,” I gasped as he kissed the corner of my mouth, a sweet, almost reverent touch that nearly sent my thoughts scattering.

“Mmhm?” he murmured, not pausing his soft kisses, or his finger.

“I have to tell you something.” The words tumbled from my lips, forced out on breathy exhales.

“Mmm?” He nibbled delicately on the sensitive skin just below my ear.

Needing him, but needing him to hear me more, I clasped his face between my palms and brought his gaze to mine.

“I... I’ve never… I don’t know-”

“Ssh,” he turned his face and placed a kiss upon my palm, “I know.”

“How?” I frowned, calming slightly as his finger slowed its movement.

He smiled and ducked his head, hair falling over his forehead in tousled waves.

“I can tell.” His voice was so quiet in the stillness of the room, but it felt like a declaration. I squirmed and tried to tilt my hips to dislodge him. Jihoon withdrew his finger and lifted his head to meet my eyes.

“It’s okay,” he insisted. “I didn’t come here expecting that.” With his words, he lay his hand over me, cupping me, that possessive gesture warming me more than the heat from his body that lay so firmly against mine.

“I didn’t expect you, but here you are,” he placed a soft kiss on the tip of my nose, before he pulled back to hold my gaze.

“Whatever you want, is fine. If you want to stop, it’s fine. If you want me to go,” he swallowed, but carried on, “it’s okay. But I need you to tell me. ”

The heat from his palm seared me, and though the ache had faded during our conversation, it was only banked. The weight and mere presence of his hand being where it was, where no one but I had touched before was enough to start that climb again, that steady ascent that scattered my thoughts.

“I want to,” I admitted shakily, “but I’m not ready to.”

He nodded, “I understand, and that’s okay. Do you want me to stop?”

I shook my head immediately, “No.”

“Do you like it when I touch you?” His voice was deeper than normal, a timbre I felt as well as heard.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Like this?” His hand began a slow, undulating motion between my thighs, a firm press of his palm that hit in just the right spot while his fingers danced lightly downwards, almost tickling me. The combination brought a gasp to my lips and I sighed, “Yes.”

He kissed me, harder this time, as if he couldn’t hold himself back.

He groaned into my mouth, his fingers more insistent, parting me and stroking up and down with ever-increasing pressure.

I grabbed his wrist, causing him to pause, until I urged him on.

I felt him smile against my lips and I giggled breathlessly. Until I wasn’t laughing anymore.

Jihoon dipped his finger inside of me and gently pressed upwards.

It was a kind of pressure that I couldn’t describe but made me reflexively shift my hips seeking…

something. I inhaled sharply as he withdrew, but he didn’t go far, trailing his fingers back up to that spot that made me squirm.

At first, he only lightly traced around it, but as my pants turned into gasps, he pressed down more firmly, alternating from circles to sweeps until my hips began to buck underneath him.

He watched me carefully all the while, his eyes never leaving mine.

And when I finally cried out and juddered under his hand, he grinned and pressed his forehead to mine.

I clamped my hand around his bicep, curling my body into his, while his hand was still tucked between my thighs.

I couldn’t catch my breath enough to speak, and even if I had, what would I say?

All rational thought had scattered like dandelion seeds in a breeze.

I could only lay there vibrating as the waves slowly gentled from the epicentre of sensation and I reeled myself back in .

I pulled my leg over and rolled onto my side, dislodging him. He ran his palm up my belly and to my waist, pulling me closer to him.

Absurdly, I felt my cheeks reddening and I burrowed my face in his chest, the scent of him calming my racing heart. Jihoon chuckled, the sound vibrating through me.

“Where have you gone?” he said softly, reaching his hand up to tilt my jaw so that I was facing him. He was smiling down at me, a soft smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“I feel shy,” I admitted, “which I appreciate is silly, but it is what it is.” I don’t know how people are supposed to react after something like that.

“I mean, do I say thank you, tell you ‘good job?’"

“Because, yes, to all of that.” I rambled, then forcibly closed my mouth to keep my tumbled thoughts inside.

Jihoon chuckled and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “You don’t need to feel that way with me, and you do not need to thank me,” he huffed a laugh, “but you’re welcome.”

I was silent a moment, but internally I was doing mental gymnastics, practically falling over myself to think what the proper etiquette here was.

I was so woefully unprepared from all my previous relationships, and it hadn’t occurred to me that this might occur tonight, not that I’d had the benefit of prior preparation, being that the whole visit was a last-minute surprise.

A yawn took me by surprise and I tried to cover it, only being partially successful.

“I can see you thinking hard about something,” Jihoon interrupted my spiralling thoughts with another kiss to my forehead, “you should sleep, it’s been a long day.”

I didn’t reply, instead I lay my hand flat upon his bare chest, feeling the way his heartbeat pounded against his warm skin. I trailed my fingers across the expanse of him, delighting in the way he felt against my palm, and he sighed above me, his breath tickling my eyelashes.

My fingertips seemed to walk themselves downwards, towards his abdominals, those firm ridges of muscle so obvious even now, lying on his side. I lightly ran my hand over his stomach, hesitating when his muscles twitched, and I looked up at his face enquiringly .

“Ticklish,” he mirrored my previous explanation with a quirk to his lips that seemed to rekindle a low-burning fire in my belly, a fire that nudged my mind towards a reciprocation, of sorts.

Now that the thought occurred to me, I felt a twinge of embarrassment. Swallowing, I tentatively swept my fingertips further down, following the line of soft hairs from his navel to where his shorts hung low on his hips.

Just as I reached the small knot holding his shorts up, Jihoon reached for my exploratory hand and, clasping it gently, brought it up to his mouth, where he placed soft kisses to each of my fingertips in turn.

“But what about you?” I asked, frowning, trying to stifle another yawn.

Jihoon smiled, holding my hand and pressing it back against his chest.

“That’s not how it works. It’s not an exchange.

“I wanted to make you feel good. I didn’t touch you so you’d need to touch me.”

I blushed, tucking my head down and staring instead at our joined hands against his bare chest.

“What if I want to?” I muttered, a little petulantly.

Jihoon laughed softly, the still night air seeming to snatch the sound and muffle it.

“Another time and you can touch me all you want. Right now, go to sleep, jagiya . ”

He nestled me into him more solidly, his arms wrapped around me, pulling me into him so absolutely our breathing synchronized.

I’d never slept beside someone like this before, and now that I had, I wondered how I’d ever sleep without it again.