Page 61 of A World Apart (Between Worlds #1)
K nowing it was probably quicker to wait for the regular bus than wait for a taxi on Halloween weekend, Jihoon and I left the main thoroughfare of the carnival behind and headed back to the stop we’d arrived from.
On the way home, I rested my head on Jihoon’s shoulder as we both looked out the window at the night-time transformation of the city, made somehow even more vibrant in the dark of the night, illuminations chasing the shadows into the alleys we all knew instinctively to avoid.
“I wonder if I’ll be here to see all this next year.” I murmured, giving voice to the anxious uncertainty I’d blithely pushed aside for months now.
Jihoon shifted under me, but made sure not to jostle me where I had settled against him.
“You’re going to leave LA?”
“I think I’ll have to,” I sighed, briefly explaining. “The studio isn’t going to renew my contract, and without them, I don’t have a Visa.”
He was silent a moment before he said, “Where will you go?”
“Probably back to the UK, maybe London. I’m not sure yet, I haven’t made any decisions. ”
“Will you miss it here?”
I thought about the question, taking my time before I answered. “I don’t think I’ll miss the city. I mean, I like it well enough, but it’s not really that much different from any other city.
“I’ll miss Becka. She’s the whole reason I’m here, she got me a job, gave me a place to live. She’s my best friend. It’ll suck not seeing her every day.” I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat.
“But I think I’ll really miss the opportunity of LA. I can’t describe it, but in a way, it feels like all things are possible here.
“I mean, look at my life.” I huffed out a laugh. “Fresh out of Uni, not a penny to my name and I somehow work at a crazy famous studio, meet crazy famous people every other day and… y’know, there’s you. I met you here.” I ran my hand down his chest, feeling his heart solidly beat against my palm.
“LA has been single-handedly one of the best and most bizarre experiences of my life. I will miss that most of all.”
Jihoon pulled me closer to him, offering me comfort in the support of his arms. I snuggled into him as we watched the city outside the window blur past.
The apartment building was quiet as we made our way up the stairs to our floor, only the sound of our footsteps to break the silence.
I put they key in the lock and pushed the heavy door open, almost calling out to Becka, but catching myself. I flipped on the light switch and moved out of the way to let Jihoon enter, closing and locking the door behind himself.
He pulled off his mask with a relieved sigh.
“I’m glad to finally take that that off,” he said with a wry grin, tossing it on top of the shoe organiser we had in the small hallway. I copied him, but with less relief, given that I’d had the freedom to take mine off whenever I’d wanted.
“I’m sorry about that,” I pulled a face, “that can’t have been fun.”
He waved away the apology. “It was worth it.”
“Can you pull out my battery pack?” I turned around, presenting my back to him, pulling my hair around my neck. A moment later I felt his fingers working at my lower back as he unplugged my battery pack, tossing it down on top of the masks.
“Me, please,” Jihoon said turning around so I could unplug his pack. I tossed it on the shoe organiser next to mine.
“This thing is so warm,” I said, fanning myself.
“Want some help taking it off?” He waggled his eyebrows at me. I rolled my eyes at him, but then he started pulling the neckline of his jumpsuit, freeing his arms, then his chest, until he had stripped down to his waist.
It felt voyeuristic to watch, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him, especially not when the narrow confines of the corridor meant that he was three feet away from me.
“Ahh, that feels so much better,” he grinned at me.
I narrowed my eyes at him. Two could play that game.
“Oh, really? Let me try.” Just as he had, I pulled the stretchy fabric of the suit down until I could slide first one arm, then the other, until I’d pulled it down to my waist, leaving me bare, but for my black, lacy bralette.
Jihoon had been right, having some air on my skin after being in the synthetic material of the jumpsuit was a relief.
But relief was not what I felt when my eyes raised up to meet Jihoon’s.
He wasn’t just openly staring at me, he was looking at me like I was everything he’d ever wanted, but been denied.
The naked hunger in his eyes inflamed something in me that I hadn’t felt since that weekend in the villa, a reckless kind of abandon, a need to throw caution to the winds.
He felt like a cliff I wanted to throw myself off.
One moment he was standing there, and the next, he was against me, his body pushing mine into the wall. The force straightened my back, but before I could process the impact, his hand cradled the back of my head. Despite the intensity of the moment, I felt protected. Cherished.
“What is this that you do to me, jagiya?” he murmured, looking down into my eyes, wide and… almost fearful.
“The same thing you do to me.”
I lifted my face to his at the same moment he lowered, our lips meeting so softly it was like the first time ? gentle, exploratory, waking the butterflies in my stomach and soothing them all at once.
I melted into the kiss, winding my arms around his neck for support as my legs trembled. I don’t know who deepened the kiss; maybe we both did at the same time. I moaned as he parted my lips with his tongue, pressing his hips harder into me.
The kiss became more frantic, a clash of tongues and lips in a desperate bid for closeness, and when Jihoon ran his hand down my thigh, I shuddered.
He pulled my leg up, hooking it around his waist as he pressed me harder against the wall, a build-up of some unnameable tension seeming to seek out all the areas that we touched, a magnetism drawing us together.
Jihoon tore his mouth from mine with a small cry as he leant his forehead against mine, looking into my eyes as he panted.
“I’m sorry, I don’t want to get carried away if you don’t want this. You drive me crazy, cheon-sa.” He closed his eyes, panting heavily.
“I do want this.” My heart pounded in my chest, but my words were clear. Quiet, but intentional.
Jihoon opened his eyes, looking at me for so long I wasn’t sure if he’d heard me.
“Are you sure?” His voice wavered, though from disbelief or nerves, I couldn’t tell.
But, I was sure. I’d been sure for some time. I lowered my leg from around his waist and put my hand on his chest, gently pushing him away. He took a step back, his arms falling to his sides, his gaze never leaving mine, as if I’d disappear if he looked away.
I reached for his hand and, holding it firmly, I led him down the hallway to my bedroom, the door slightly ajar. I turned on the lamp next to the bed, illuminating the room in a soft, ambient light as Jihoon closed the door behind himself.
Seeing him there, standing in my tiny bedroom should have made him seem larger than life, this internationally famous idol, but instead it had the opposite effect.
It made him more real somehow, and for the first time since I’d locked eyes with him in the lobby of Pisces recording studios, it felt like perhaps he could fit into my life, instead of me changing my shape to fit into his.
He looked at me like I was the sun, erasing any feelings I might have had of self-doubt, or self-consciousness.
As he watched, I pushed the jumpsuit down the rest of my body, letting it pool at my feet as he did the same.
My bra went next, no gimmicks, no nervous smiles, just a simple shedding of clothes.
I walked towards him, sliding my hands up his chest, feeling the way his muscles jumped under my touch.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, the words and scene a near mirror of the last time we’d been this close. It made me smile to remember how nervous I’d been then, to compare it with how certain I felt now .
Once again, I took his hand. “Come to bed with me.”
He swallowed, but allowed himself to be led.
I crawled onto the bed, backing up until I could comfortably lay down.
Jihoon followed me, but remained kneeling, looking down at me with a clear mix of want and nervousness playing across his face.
I reached up a hand to pull his face down to mine, silencing his unspoken words with a kiss.
With my other hand, I brought his to my breasts, a silent encouragement which he scarcely needed.
What started as gentle, exploratory caresses became more urgent, less finessed, a need to have skin meet skin.
My mouth tore from his in a cry as he traced patterns over and around my breasts, the skin there tightening in a way that I felt lower in my core, that building anticipation, and I shuddered.
Jihoon trailed his mouth from my jaw, down my throat and then to my breasts, making me cry anew.
The sensation of his tongue as it scraped gently across the sensitive peaks, coupled with the way he breathed upon my wet skin was incendiary.
I arched my back, pushing my chest against his in a desperate bid to increase the contact.
Fingers danced down my abdomen, drawing lazy circles around my navel until finally they dipped beneath the underwear I still wore.
“Jihoon,” I gasped as his fingers moved down that most sensitive part of me.
He groaned and pressed his lips against my neck, moving his hand in a way I thought I might go mad from, the coiling tightness gathering in my centre so acute now.
When he dipped a finger inside me, I swore, bucking against his hand.
Too impatient now for the promise of more, “in my drawer.” The words were wrenched from me, I couldn’t have been clearer or eloquent if I’d tried.