Page 90 of A World Apart
I didn’t consciously move, but I wound my arm around his chest tighter and took a deep breath, inhaling the way he smelt of soap and clean skin.
I must have woken him when I’d moved, because he reached across his body to run his fingers up my arm. I tilted my head up just as he tilted his head down and we met each other’s gaze.
“Why are you crying?” he said softly, his voice deep from sleep, his accent more pronounced.
I ran a thumb underneath my eye and it came away wet. “I don’t know,” I confessed.
Gently, he lifted his hand and wiped away the tear that had run down my cheek. I stared at him, eyes accustomed enough to the dark to make out his face, before I remembered how I was sprawled over him like a blanket. I made to shift, mumbling a weak apology, but instead of letting me rise, he firmly held me to him.
“Don’t move, I like you here.” He ran a hand up and down my spine in a way that must have been meant to soothe, but instead ignited something inside me, a fire I’d been teetering on the edge of all day, and when his fingertips grazed the base of my spine, my back arched involuntarily, pressing my breasts more firmly against his chest and throwing my head back.
I looked at Jihoon’s face through eyes half lidded, my mouth parted on a sigh and silently begged him to close the distance between us.
Whatever expression he saw on my face was encouragement enough, it seemed, as Jihoon’s other hand trailed up my arm to my neck, his thumb tracing circles in the hollow of my throat before moving up more firmly to cup my jaw. He paused a moment, gaze locked with mine, before he closed the distance and pressed his lips against mine.
I groaned against him, my fingers curling on his chest, a delicious slow-burn coiling deep in my belly. His lips moved against mine, softly at first, but I needed more. I wound my arms up and around his neck, pulling him towards me and pressing our bodies firmly together until I could feel the contours of his muscled arms and chest against me.
Jihoon deepened the kiss, rolling over so that he was now lying on his side, facing me, his tongue teasing my bottom lip. It still wasn’t enough. I rolled onto my back, pulling him with me until he lay partially on top of me, his legs to theside so he wasn’t pressing me into the mattress with his weight. I sighed in contented pleasure as I bent my knee up to cage him in on one side. Though I had no prior experience, everything felt so natural. I wanted to feel the way his body pressed against mine, wanted it with a need that I’d never felt before.
Jihoon pulled back and I almost whimpered. His face hovered some inches above mine as he locked eyes with me, panting softly. In silence, we watched each other, for what I wasn’t sure, until I felt his hand pressing softly to my chest, just above the lace that cupped my breasts. I took a shuddering inhale as his hand moved, oh so softly downward, until his hand rested gently on my breast, cupping me.
“Is this okay?” he asked softly and without hesitation I nodded, silently urging him on.
He ran that hand down from my breast and down my ribs, his fingers dancing lightly over the thin fabric that still covered me, sending shivers that radiated outward to the far reaches of my body like tiny, exploding fireworks. As his fingertips travelled further down, tracing a map of my body in undulating, delicious little waves, I began to ache in a way I never had before. A tense pressure of clenched muscles, straining in anticipation.
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 shiverscoursing 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 feelexposed, 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.
