“The house? Why?”
“I ...” This is a bad idea, but my hair is a tangled mess. “I need to wash my hair, but my shoulder is still a bit sore. I think the house wanted me to ask for your help.”
He swallows. “Doyouwant my help?”
“Yeah, sure.” I scoot around in the tub and hug my legs to my chest, offering him my back. “You have to use that orchid oil. The house doesn’t know about shampoos because it’s been alone for more than a century.”
I hear him push off the floor and walk into the kitchen. The back of my neck tingles when he comes to stand behind me. I see him pick up the oil from the corner of my eyes. As the heady scent of orchids fills the kitchen, his fingers dig deeply into my hair and massage my scalp in slow, sinuous circles.
I moan and lean into his touch. I hear his breath catch, but he doesn’t stop his gentle ministrations. He pours a few more drops of oil into his hands and works his fingers through my hair, untangling the knots. I sigh, slowly melting into the tub.
“Lean back,” he says in a husky rasp. “I need to rinse the oil off.”
“But I . . .”
“Look up at me.” He smooths his hands down my shoulders. “My eyes won’t leave your face.”
I stretch out my legs, grabbing the lip of the tub with both my hands, and tilt my head back until my hair is submerged in the water. I meet his gaze, and my heart lurches. The black of his pupils nearly obscures his dark-brown irises as he stares down at me with pure, unadulterated lust. I’m a feast spread out before him when he hasn’t eaten in days. Still, his eyes never stray from mine as his hands massage and comb my hair.
“Sit up.” He suddenly steps back from the tub and hisses out a breath. I obey unthinkingly, hugging my knees to my chest. “I’ll dry your hair, then help you get out.”
I blink rapidly and shake my head. “I’m perfectly capable of—”
“I want to take care of you, Sunny.” The heat of his words brushes against my ear, and my toes curl under the water. “Let me.”
I don’t protest when he wraps the towel around my hair and wrings out the moisture. Then stepping to the side, he holds the towel open wide and turns his head away. “Stand up.”
His eyes fly to mine when I stand and hug the towel against my chest. The intensity of his gaze is hotter than the water as he wraps the towel around me and bodily scoops me out of the tub.
“Put me down,” I croak. “I’m getting you wet.”
“I don’t care,” he growls.
He carries me all the way into the room before he sets me down. Then he places the hanbok on the floor and leaves, closing the door behind him. I scoff in disbelief. That’s it? He turns me on until I have steam billowing from my ears, then heleaves? I drop the towel and open my mouth to call him back inside.
What am I thinking? We have a madman after us. Samshin Halmeom’s departing words echo in my head.Stop Daeseong. Fulfill your destiny.I have shit to figure out. And what about Ethan? He’s a being of the Shingae, and he’s keeping it from me. I’m going to blithely disregard all that for a moment of carnal bliss? I clench my thighs together, considering the question.Oh, for gods’ sake.I snatch the hanbok skirt off the floor. The answer isno. I’m not disregarding a single damned thing.
I wrap the floor-length skirt around my body and tighten the stays over my breasts. I pick up the cropped jeogori and stare at the baggy sleeves, straight at the top of the arms and rounded at the bottom. After a pause, I toss it to the corner of the room. The night is too warm for layers of cumbersome clothing. Besides, I’m basically covered from armpits to toes. Only my shoulders are bare.
“Ethan, come inside,” I call out. “I’m decent.”
When the door flings open, he blinks at me from the other side of the threshold, his hand suspended halfway to the door.
“Will you stop doing that?” I snap at the house. The house shifts with a low, whining sound. I sigh. “We’ll manage from now. Thank you.”
Ethan steps inside but forgets to close the door, gaping at me. I look down at myself. My small breasts look like luminous, forbidden fruit, not quite spilling over the top of my skirt. I’d inadvertently done a better job of showcasing my breasts than a V-neck shirt and a push-up bra.
“House,” I say in a resigned voice, and it closes the door behind Ethan.
I swing my damp hair over one shoulder, and that seems to break my boobs’ hypnotic hold over Ethan. He meets my gaze evenly, with only a slight flush to his cheeks. His control is admirable but also slightly annoying. Pursing my lips, I settle down on the floor. When I motion for him to sit beside me, he cocks his head to the side but complies with a shrug, sitting close enough for our shoulders to touch.
This is ridiculous. He’s my friend. This heightened awareness between us is fleeting. I have to focus on the important stuff. Such as ... Who the fuck is he? And there’s no need to drive myself crazy trying to figure out why he’s keeping his identity a secret from me. We can talk, like normal people.
“What are you hiding from me?” I ask him point blank. Maybe normal people ease in to this stuff, but I’m not normal people.
His brows pull down low over his eyes. “What am Ihidingfrom you?”
“Yes, that’s what I asked.” I keep my voice nice and level.
