I can imagine a thousand scenarios, some borrowed from my favorite romance novels and some that are wholly my own, conjured up in the days since we were in the same room.
Biting my lip against the dry friction, I still have to stop myself from moaning because just imagining it could be Kija’s hand on me is too much. I know his hands are larger than mine, and the idea of the way they would cover me, hold me, wrap around me sends shivers through my body.
I keep returning to the idea of the end of a show, running off the stage, high on adrenaline and finding him waiting there, smirking. Lips curved deviously because he knows what I’m thinking. I’d only need to leap toward him and he’d catch me easily, those big hands under my thighs, holding me up, holding me close to him. He’d tell me I’d done well, I looked so good, and he couldn’t wait to have me all to himself.
The other members might tease or make jokes as he carried me away, but I wouldn’t hear them, wouldn’t care if I could. I’d already be unbuttoning his shirt, dragging my lips over his jaw, leaving marks on his throat to tell the whole world he wasmine, before we could even get behind a closed door.
I gasp, one hand clapped over my mouth and the other sticky from my rapid release, and everything just seems clear all at once. Like I understand what I have to do.
Allowing myself a moment to catch my breath before I go wash up and find new shorts, the pieces start slotting themselves together in my mind.
Kim Kija is my destiny.
I know, deep down inside—in my heart, my soul—that he is the one I’m supposed to be with.
If I can’t have him, I don’t want anyone.
ONE
KIJA
present
“Is it just me or are these group names just getting crazier?” I ask, pinching the bridge of my nose as I look over the notes I took in the meeting I just left. I really need to get one of those diffusers or something like that in here for relaxation and stress relief.
“Definitely not just you,” Grace assures me as she steps into my office, setting an iced americano down on my desk, carefully avoiding the sheets of paper I’ve been staring at. “I feel ridiculous saying so many of them when I have to make calls.‘Yes, hi, I’m contacting you on behalf of J*embrace. Mmmm-hmmm, yes, that’s right. Oh, you need me to spell it? Of course. J-star-E-M-B-R-A-C-E. No, I don’t really get it either. Would you like to talk about F8FX, too?’”
I laugh as she mimes hanging up her faux phone call and grab the drink immediately, taking a long, unnecessarily noisy slurp. “Hiring you was the best decision I have ever made in this role.”
“Oh, I know,” she says, flipping her short auburn hair, all sass and confidence. “You’d be lost without me.”
“That is an accurate statement,” I agree. I hadinitially gotten some questions about hiring the very Welsh wife of one of Task Force’s security team members, but every day she has proven that she’s even more valuable than I initially suspected. Supremely competent, hilarious, and completely unafraid to be candidly honest with me, Grace is not only my favorite person at the company, but one of my favorite people in general.
She settles on her usual spot, the sleek black couch near my desk, and primly crosses her ankles. “Do you want to give me the rundown, or would you like to hear the nonsense that occurred while you were trapped with the suits?”
“How much could have happened?” I frown. “Wait, how long was I in there? I know it felt like an eternity.”
Grace snickers. “Three hours and nine minutes.”
“Ugh,” I groan, finishing off my coffee. “Catch me up.”
“Jase tried to contact you thirteen times,” she tells me. “Ten texts, two calls on your line, and one to mine.”
I don’t know if I should be concerned or assume he’s being melodramatic. “Is my apartment on fire? What the hell?”
“It sounds as though your bonus roommate may have mistaken your slippers for a chew toy,” Grace says, clearly trying not to laugh.
My hand automatically returns to my face, ready to pinch again. In the eleven days that Jase and Noel have been cohabiting with me, a staggering number ofmishapshave occurred that have led me to believe that Noel is not particularly fond of me.
I have apologized profusely for a wide range of things, including accidentally kicking a treat under a chair, stopping too soon when petting her, daring to move while she was sleeping on my lap, and leaving to go to work. Jase literally has a photo of me on my knees in a full head-to-the-floor bow, trying to beg forgiveness from the small, furry tyrant that has turned my home into a minefield of things that squeak and crinkle.
If I’m being honest, I’ve probably put more effort into tryingto make that dog happy than I have into relationships with some actual humans. I understand that she will never love me the way she does Jase and I could never hope for her to adore me with the same level of affection she has for Nikko, but I’d settle for her not methodically destroying all of my possessions.
“I’ll call him… later.” I flip back though the pages I’ve scribbled on, looking for things Grace might need to be aware of or put on one of our calendars, while she hurries out to grab her laptop and pulls up to my desk, ready to listen. “For as long as all those guys were talking, there’s actually not that much we need to worry about right now,” I laugh. “Unless you’re trying to score an invite to what I believe is Bitgaram’s third vacation home?”
Grace scoffs. “He’s already got Bali, Sapporo, and now where’s this one?”
“Phuket.”
