Page 7 of When Worlds Collide (Between Worlds #2)

I t was fully dark by the time I eventually rolled out of bed. I was so jelly-legged I knew I’d be sore in the morning, whenever that was.

Jihoon was fast asleep. I’d watched him sleep for a while afterwards. The way his eyelids twitched was fascinating to me, but I needed a shower more than I needed to stay in bed.

So, I quietly got up and moved through the bathroom to the shower I’d used just a few hours ago, and ran the water until it was as warm as I liked. I put my hair up in a messy bun and adjusted the directional spray so that I didn’t have to get my hair wet after I’d only just washed it this morning.

Stepping into that perfect stream of water had a similar effect as it had this morning. The way the temperature and pressure hit my soul at the same time… ah, bliss.

I pumped some liquid soap into my hands and began to lather, taking a moment to breathe in the refreshing scent of mandarin, and whatever else this was, closing my eyes under this full-body assault to my senses.

A shadow fell over me a second before a pair of large, warm hands stroked up my arms from my wrists to my shoulders, eliciting a smile from me as goosebumps followed the trail of his fingers.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I murmured, half-turning around to face him, until his hands guided me back to the direction of the shower head.

“Let me do that,” he murmured, dipping his head down low to press a chaste kiss to my temple as he pumped some soap into his hands before beginning to rub it into my shoulders.

It was more massage than washing though, and without meaning to, I groaned.

My head fell forward as he soothed muscles I didn’t know where aching.

Meticulously, his strong hands worked their way back down my arms, and then my hands, where he gently rubbed and washed each finger. Had I been showering alone this would have been wholly unnecessary, but when Jihoon did it, it was somehow absolutely essential.

By the time he had moved up my back, I was putty in his hands, so when his fingers gently caged my neck, rubbing delicate circles into my skin, I had completely surrendered, my head lolling to the side.

He ran one big hand down my throat, while his other hand drifted further south to where he curled it around my hip, placing his palm flat against my abdomen.

I leaned back against him, lost in the sensation of his hard, warm body behind me, propping me up.

The hand that had been gently caressing my throat also took a downwards path, skimming lightly over my clavicle, fingers teasing over my chest until he was cupping my breast.

I inhaled sharply as his thumb brushed over my nipple. Jihoon pressed a kiss to my shoulder as that hand slid across to cup my other breast, his arm a band around me, while his other hand that had been on my stomach now purposefully moved further down until I gasped.

He ran his fingers down the centre of me, deftly creating a friction I at once needed more than my next breath. My hips tilted of their own accord, seeking out just the right kind of movement, but he didn’t need my help.

I shuddered as his fingers gently, but firmly began to trace circles over me, while his other hand at my breast lightly teased my nipple.

I began to pant, being pushed ever close to the edge as his fingers traced further down until one slipped inside.

He pressed a kiss to my neck, humming. “Hmm, you’re so ready for me.”

“Always,” I groaned, lost somewhere in between the way the water pounded down my sensitised skin, and the way Jihoon played my body like an instrument.

“Hands on the wall, jagiya,” he murmured in my ear, removing his hand from between my legs.

Dazedly, I did as he instructed, lifting my limp arms to lay my palms flat against the cool tiles.

Behind me, Jihoon put his hands on my hips and slid his leg in between mine, nudging them further apart, before he ran one palm down to my thigh, lifting my leg to put my foot on the low bench that ran along the wall.

“Very considerate of them to put that there,” his breath tickled my skin as he gently nipped at my throat. I could only pant in response, especially as I felt him lining himself up at my entrance, before he gripped my hips.

“I love you,” he said firmly, just as he pushed inside of me in one, long, fluid thrust, and had he not been holding onto me, I would have fallen forward.

I cried out, the sound echoing slightly in the shower cubicle. It was oddly erotic.

For a breathless moment, neither of us moved.

His chest pressed against my back, damp and burning hot, and I felt every inch of him trembling with restraint.

Jihoon buried his face against my shoulder, exhaling shakily as his fingers flexed on my hips, grounding himself, the calm before the storm, and I was glad of the reprieve as my body acclimatised to having him inside me.

Then he began to move. Slow at first. Measured, and controlled.

As though he didn’t want to rush, as though he was memorizing every reaction he drew from me.

The friction was maddening. I was pinned in this position, only capable of moving my hips slightly to chase the crescendo that had begun to build again.

Each deep roll of his hips sent sparks dancing across my skin.

My hands braced against the wall, slick with steam and sweat, as heat pooled low in my belly, coiling tighter with each thrust.

I whimpered his name, and it unravelled something in him. He growled low, the sound reverberating against my spine, and his rhythm quickened, losing that careful, measured precision, his movements more erratic and wild.

In this position I couldn’t move. Jihoon’s hands gripped me so thoroughly and with my hands up against the wall, all I could do was take it. Every sensation was wrung from my body, and it wasn’t long before I found myself on that edge again.

A cry tore from my throat as I shattered around him, my whole body clenching and unclenching in pulsing waves so overwhelming my knees buckled.

Jihoon held me tightly to him as he groaned behind me, driving into me once, twice more before following me over the edge.

His fingers dug into my hips, anchoring us both as we came apart together.

For a moment, there was only the sound of our breathing, shaky, uneven, like we’d both forgotten how. I felt him behind me, chest rising and falling, pressing against me so closely that not even the water that continued to careen over us could pass between.

His arms moved from my hips to slide around my waist, losing their bruising grip, but not letting me go. His hot mouth pressed soft kisses to the curve of my shoulder, almost reverent.

“I don’t think I can move my legs,” I murmured.

He exhaled a low, shaky laugh. “Same.”

I sighed, leaning my head back to rest against him. “Do you think the people in the other rooms heard?”

“Let them hear how hard I worked.”

I twisted in the circle of his arms, just enough to see the lazy, self-satisfied smirk that pulled his lips up in that lopsided smile that never failed to put butterflies in my belly.

His hair was plastered to his forehead, and he looked so… wild, and un-put-together in a way I rarely saw him. I don’t think I’d ever seen him more smug… or more beautiful.

“So boastful,” I murmured.

“I love you.”

There it was again. The words so quiet, but the look on his face…

“I love you too,” and it felt like the words had to fight their way past the lump that had formed in my throat.

He kissed me then, his warm, soft lips moulding to mine so perfectly, moving to a rhythm our bodies had instinctively created. It was the kind of kiss that said we had all the time in the world. And now, maybe we did.

“We really shouldn’t make that a habit,” I said, running my fingers over his where they rested against my sternum as we lay in bed a little while later, fresh and dry from our shower.

“Hmm?” He sounded sleepy. He hadn’t gotten nearly as much sleep as I had today, and after a quick dinner from room service, we had decided sleep was the priority. That, and it was creeping up on midnight now.

“You know,” I prompted, hoping he wouldn’t make me actually say it, “in the shower. I’m on birth control, but… still.”

Not long after Jihoon and I had first slept together, Becka had marched me down to the family planning clinic, where I’d promptly gotten the contraceptive shot. I was covered for another month, and then… well, I’d have to figure it out.

“Oh.” His fingers stilled. “I didn’t think. But, you’re covered?”

“Yes, but we should probably keep using condoms. If you’re not even allowed to date-”

“I am allowed to,” he grumbled, but I could tell his irritation wasn’t directed at me.

I pressed on, unable to help myself. It was like a scab I couldn’t not pick at.

As if one day, I was expecting the outcome to change.

“You may not have a dating ban written into your contract anymore, but how chill would everyone be if you admitted to having a girlfriend?” I lifted my head from where it had been nestled in the crook of his neck and tried to meet his eyes, but he had his head turned away.

This subject was contentious between us, although we’d never actually sat down and talked it through in such frank terms. It was just understood that idols do not date. Or, at least not publically.

Before Jihoon, I’d barely given it much consideration, but now I saw it more and more. The whole package of the ‘idol’ – be it group or solo artist – was so glamorous, so multi-faceted in their talents, but also in their sex appeal; whether it was called that or not.

One reason so many artists had no-dating clauses written into their contracts was to preserve the illusion of being single. Desirability through the appearance of availability.