Sobbing, my chest took hit after hit at the thought that for thirteen years, I had lived in a dream—and only now, his words declared it real. I had lived it with him.
I hadn’t realized how close we’d grown until his reddened eyes locked with mine, and emotion was unspoken yet crashing between us. My hand stroked his cheek, praying the touch might soothe him. But then my fingers tightened on his shoulders, because in the next second his lips captured mine again.
This time, it wasn’t forceful. Not harsh, not demanding. The kiss was soft, gentler than before, as though neither of us wanted to wound the other.
When he broke it, the sound of our ragged breaths remained. Our eyes clashed, burning, as the taste of alcohollingered bitter in my mouth. Neither of us spoke. But my eyes carried every unsaid word.
Then Zioh shook his head and cupped my face again, kissing me once more, but this time more demanding. His teeth caught my lower lip, prying my mouth open. His tongue pressed in, seeking mine, insistent. It was mesmerizing, the soft flashes felt intoxicating, leaving me wishing this connection would never loosen. Even the warmth of his breath against my face sent a sharp electric sensation through me, leaving my body trembling.
We tangled long and deep, until his lips trailed down to my neck and brushed there again and again. It felt as though it was signaling my brain to close my eyes and lift my face upward. I had to clutch his shoulders, needing an anchor to overwhelm the sensation.
A sharp gasp tore from me when he bit my skin. “Zioh…” One of his hands slipped back to the top of my cardigan and unfastened button after button until I stopped him at the third.
“W-wait… Zi—” I stammered.
He halted, staring at me with wavering eyes. He shook his head, and his lips quivered as though shaping words he couldn’t voice. My hand clutched his over my chest, my heart racing. I remembered with horror that I wasn’t wearing a bra. Only pasties.
“What?” His voice was low. “Do you want me to stop?” His palm brushed the sliver of my skin left bare where the buttons had come undone.
“I… I—” I faltered, then his lips claimed mine again, swallowing my words. His hands resumed, slipping buttons free one by one until my cardigan hung open completely.
When he pulled back, his wide and frozen eyes locked on me. For a heartbeat, he looked at me with something I could recognize.
It was the look Zioh used to give me long ago.
I tilted my head down, and the strip of skin from my throat to my stomach was bare, framed by the gaping cardigan.
His breath scorched hot over me. “You didn’t wear a bra?” he rasped, trailing a middle finger down my exposed skin. From my neck, through the valley of my breasts, over my stomach, my navel, and down to the waistband of my pants. Stopping at the edge of what lay beyond.
A surge of electricity drawn out to reward me, something I never imagined would burst inside me like fireworks. I found myself wishing the trail would never end, my skin humming under his touch as if begging for more.
“Zi…” I shuddered. My body betrayed me, heat curling low and rising. I tried to hold it back, but it was impossible, especially when my eyes flicked downward, catching his expensive pants.
Did he truly want me? Was this just drunken lust, or something deeper?
“Just a bra… or…?” His voice dipped to a whisper, and his gaze slid from my face down to where my jeans hid everything.
I was too shaken to answer, yet his chest heaved, breath hitched as he said it. His stare darkened further. “We just need to find the answer, right?”
His eyes burned me, but I caught something. His jaw tightened, then loosened as if… he couldn’t choose which version of himself he should take.
Zioh’s eyes shifted away, then back. “So, tell me, Tshabina. Our innocent girl, Tshabina…” His voice dropped cold, sharp. “After these ten years, have you ever slept with another man?” I flinched at his tone. His hand rose to the clasp of my jeans. The heat of his hand pressed into my skin, making me swallow.
“Hm?” His demand carried a frosty edge, making me shiver. My tongue stuck, and my heart slammed against my ribs.
“Back at school, you never dated anyone,” I held my breath. “And now, grown into a beautiful woman, does it make you curious?” He leaned closer, his lips at my ear, whispering. “How does it feel… to be touched?”
I let out the breath I’d been holding, and when his hot breath brushed against my ear, I shivered, awakening a sensation I knew was sovery wrong.
His fingers slid, following the line of my waist and pressing my skin. My hand rose, instinctively gripping him. Odd sensation surged through me and took over. My body trembled, a gasp escaping me as his touch scorched against my skin.
Clutching his hands tight, I held them still as I tried to stop and give myself space to process. “And what about you?” I sputtered. “A-are you having fun in the UK?”
He froze. The air turned cold, and his eyes darkened, flickering for a second.
“What fun?” He bit back, displeasure plain.
I swallowed hard. I didn’t even know why I had to ask. Maybe because deep down I knew the answer was he had plenty of fun there, and I kept pushing it away, but the thought kept crawling back. My body was fever-hot with longing and yet wrapped in guilt. “With another girl? W-what about your girlfriend? A-are you two still—”
