Page 87 of Paradox
Holding the pile of pom-poms against his stomach with one hand, he walks to me, cups the back of my head, and looks at me so gently I’m not sure what to do. “You care, Jin. Or you wouldn’t have lost track of time.”
“I’m—” I cut myself off, take the pile from him, and move to hang one on the tree. He lets me, and lowers his hand to the base of my neck as I turn away from him.
After I’ve placed the first pom-pom, Eden takes another from the pile and hangs it with one hand.
When the small pile is hung, I turn to fetch some more from the table, but Eden grips into my hair and forces me to face him again.
There’s nothing gentle about his stare anymore. It's almost as if, from a distance, he can handle me, but up close, he losesall control. I can even see his body twitching like an attack was already set into motion, but his brain kicked in a split second later to stop it in its tracks.
I’m too scared to move, but it’s not from the fear of getting hurt. This is different. It’s the anxiety of potentially never knowing what he was going to do.
“Did you wanna finish the tree, or get lunch started?” I whisper.
I don’t get an answer. All I can do is watch on as the muscles of Eden’s body sporadically tense and twitch until his jaw is clenched so tight his lips start to tremble.
Pressing my palm to his chest, I tell him, "Why don’t you start lunch, and I’ll finish the tree?”
His hand leaves my hair to cover mine over his pounding heart, and he shakes his head.
“Did you want to finish the tree together?” I ask.
He shakes his head again.
“Should we both start lunch?”
It’s still a no.
My eyes leave his, and travel down his body. I see his other hand clenched into a frustrated fist by his side, and when he realizes I’m looking at it, he hides it behind his back.
I reach around his body, but Eden catches my hand and places it at the back of his neck. As he lets it go, his fingertips run down my wrist and forearm, and his eyes plead with me to figure out what he needs me to do next.
I dip my head to the side and lift my free hand up to meet my other one, and the second I do, he’s gripping my thighs and lifting me.
We were in this exact position just hours ago.
It had taken every last piece of my courage to step into the shower with him. But I had to do it. I needed to know if he would push me away. And right now, it feels like he’s putting methrough the exact same test. Except for a whole different set of reasons.
My gaze flickers from his lips and back to his eyes expectantly, but he doesn’t kiss me. He digs his nose into the crook of my neck, and smells me. Just like he did when we first hooked up. So I turn my head so he can easily move behind my ear.
With his hand back in my hair, he jerks me to the other side and does the same. Then he’s licking up the front of my neck. Sucking bruises into my skin. Biting me so hard I gasp in pain and push him back.
There’s a look of worry on his face, like I snapped him out of a trance.
Quickly glancing behind himself, he carries me to the couch, and sits down.
After staring at him, waiting for him to do something, I make the first move and start taking off my sweater. As I feel my stomach bare, Eden takes hold of my t-shirt to prevent me from removing it too.
His hands settle on my thighs as they straddle his.
His thumbs trace tiny circles, but still, he doesn’t move.
Starting with the bottom button of his flannel—navy, red, and white, no holes, nothing underneath—I trace around it with my middle finger before pushing it through its hole and moving onto the next.
The closer I get to the top, the higher his hands creep on my thighs until his thumbs are pushing into my hip bones.
Even though I’m not watching him, I know his eyes never leave my face because I can feel him studying every little intricate move it makes as I map his bare chest with my hands. Completely sober. With the midday sun streaming in through every window.
I ghost the back of my nails over the tattoos on his stomach and chest, and when I reach his collarbone, my fingertips brush lightly over one, then the other.
