Page 5 of When Worlds Collide
That conjured all sorts of images I’d want some clarity on later, but right now, I was approaching the automatic doors to the outside, and already I could feel a cold chill emanating from the still-closed doors that had my steps slowing.
“It’s gonna be cold out there, isn’t it?” I asked, wincing.
“Jagiya, tell me you’re wearing a coat.”
“I’m wearing a hoodie.”
“Where’s your coat?” He sounded incredulous.
“Um, in England?”
When I’d moved to LA earlier this year, I’d moved over with exactly two bags. My trusty dino rucksack, and a slightly smaller one I’d started taking to work, just big enough to fit the essentials and my lunch. A coat hadn’t counted as a necessity, given that I was coming from London to the far sunnier, less wetclime of LA. I always figured I’d buy whatever I was missing, and I’d just never needed to.
“Oh, Ky…” I could hear his quiet sigh. “The car is right outside the doors; can you see it?”
Cautiously, I stepped closer to the doors, wary of triggering them to open, and peered through. There was indeed a black SUV idling at the kerb.
“How do I know that’s the right one? I don’t want to get into some axe murderer’s backseat.” I voiced, rather reasonably, I thought.
Jihoon sighed again. “The driver is going to get out to open the car door for you, so you’ll be able to see there are no axe murderers in the back seat.”
Just then, the driver’s door did indeed open, and out stepped a uniformed man, cap and all. He held a hand up to me, leaving no doubt that he was indeed expecting me, axe or otherwise.
“Okay, I see him,” I said, “hang on.” I held the phone to my chest as I braced myself before stepping forward, activating the motion detector above the doors, sliding them open. And boy, I was not prepared. Being from the North of England, I always considered myself of hardier stock than our more southern neighbours: Southern Fairies, as we liked to call anyone even remotely south of Leeds, but since moving down to London, then to LA, I’d obviously softened up.
I hustled the few meters to the waiting car, forging forward like an arctic explorer, not caring how ridiculous I looked. It was 5:00 am and it had to be hovering around freezing, or colder.
“Annyeonghaseyo, Kaiya imnida,” I said carefully, with a slightly awkward bow, having practiced introducing myself so many times, it was possible I’d repeated the Korean of it more times than I’d said it in English my entire life.
The older man looked startled, but bowed in response before responding, “Annyeonghaseyo, Kaiya-ssi,” and held his arm out to indicate the rear door, which he then opened for me after divesting me of my bags.
I turned to the older man to thank him, when a pair of hands grabbed me from inside the car, pulling me into the dark backseat before I could so much as squeal.
The door was closed behind me as I was pulled against a warm, hard body I recognised as well as I might have recognised my own.
“Is this the part where you murder me?” I murmured against his neck, breathing him in so deeply that any chill I might have brought in with me was immediately banished.
“I left my axe at home.”
I huffed, tightening my hold around his neck. He grabbed hold of my hips, pulling me closer until I was in his lap.
“Mmm, can all international travellers expect such a warm welcome, or do you reserve this only for unemployed interns?”
“You have VIP privileges.” He kissed a line up my throat to my jaw before capturing my lips in a slow, decadent kiss that had me panting, pressing my body against his in a deliberate, needful search for friction.
Too soon, Jihoon pulled away with a low groan, leaning his forehead against mine. I whined in response.
“We need to stop,” he panted.
“Why?” I grouched, running my hands up his chest, delighting in the way his firm muscles jumped under my inquiring fingers. He grasped my hands in his, bringing them slowly to his mouth before placing a kiss on each fingertip in turn.
“Because I cannot have you in this car, and if you keep kissing me like that, I will, and that would upset the driver.”
Oh. I’d forgotten all about the older man. I twisted my head round in the direction of the front seat, but all I saw was a dark partition.
“Can he hear us?” I whispered, realising suddenly that we were moving. I hadn’t even noticed.
“He can’t hear us talking, but he will hear us if I lay you down on this back seat and-”
