Page 20 of When Worlds Collide
Jihoon walked towards me and perched on the edge of the table, so close to me I could vaguely smell the cologne he was wearing. He always smelt so good.
“Pretty Woman?”
I grinned and slid my hands into his, frowning when I felt how cold he was.
“Have you eaten anything today?”
“A cup of miso soup,” he said, distractedly running his thumbs over the backs of my hands. “Who called you pretty?”
“Would it bother you if someone did call me pretty?” I teased, standing up so he and I were now eye-to-eye.
Jihoon opened his legs and I moved to stand closer in between them. “Only if it was a man. Complimenting you is my job.”
“Caveman,” I murmured, closing the distance between us as I hovered my lips over his.
His mouth quirked up. “Hmm, should I drag you back to my cave?”
“I think you already did.” I pressed my lips to his, feeling a rush of relief so intense that I inadvertently moved even closer to him. My body was flush against his, and the feeling of closeness was just as relaxing as sinking into that jacuzzi had been.
Jihoon released my hands to wind his arms firmly around my waist, while mine went around his neck. For a while, we just breathed in each other’s presence, kissing as though it had been weeks rather than hours since he’d walked out the door.
Eventually, he pulled back with a lazy grin. “Missed me, jagiya?”
“I had no one to go swimming with,” I whined, and when his eyes narrowed, I knew he was also remembering the last time we’d been in a pool together. But before we could both get even more distracted, I pulled back from him a step. Still close enough to touch, but enough distance to get some air between the two of us.
“How was your meeting?” I asked, purposefully.
Immediately, Jihoon’s playful demeanour changed to something more serious, more closed off and a tic feathered across his jaw.
“Long,” he eventually replied, looking down at our still-joined hands.
I kept waiting for him to say more, but when he didn’t, the silence between us stretched to fill the room so uncomfortably that I began to fidget. It was so strange to feel like I was on the receiving end of his obvious agitation. I didn’t like it.
“I spoke to Becka this morning,” I ploughed on, resisting the urge to fold my arms over my chest or to acknowledge the way I now felt so awkward.
When he didn’t reply, I carried on. “She told me there was footage. Did you know that?”
I tried to keep my tone light, even, but he flinched.
“It was the reason for the meeting today,” he replied, nodding tersely, his eyes flicking towards the wall of glass and the city beyond.
I took a breath. “Becka told me that I’m not identifiable, but that you are. I imagine your company is pretty angry.”
I became aware that I was picking at the skin around my fingernails and made a conscious effort to stop.
“Are you in trouble?”
Jihoon snorted, but his eyes narrowed. “They’ll get over it.”
Silence fell, a cold gulf between us where only a few minutes ago there had been warmth. I pulled my hands free as I clenched my jaw so tight I heard my teeth grind.
Eventually, for want of the right thing to say, I just said the only words I had.
“Jihoon, I don’t know what this is,” I gestured between us, through the void, “but you’re making me feel like I’ve done something wrong and I don’t like it.” My voice cracked at the end, and I hated it.
His eyes snapped to mine, immediately widening and smoothing out the crinkles that had formed between his eyebrows, and he reached for my hands again.
“Ky…” he pulled me forwards, back into the warmth of his body, and I went willingly, standing close enough that I only had to lift my fingers to brush across his stomach.
