“Good night so far?” he asks, softly, almost like he’s nervous.
When Kija invited me over to spend the night, I imagined it would be a sexy night. Like I’d just walk through the door and strip down, the whole evening clothing-optional. I wanted toget my mouth on him again and to be able to take time to put my hands all over him. Touch him everywhere and learn every single place on his body that would make him crazy.
I spent hours getting ready—showering, scrubbing, and prepping—wanting to be ready for anything. I agonized over which underwear to put on, the right pair of pants to make my ass look most enticing, the perfect scent to make his mouth water. I wanted to be irresistible. Delicious.
But it hasn’t been that kind of night.
It’s been even better.
“The best,” I whisper, moving closer to him, because I can.
Because he’sright there, and I want to.
He seems to take the hint and slips his arms around me, pulling me to him. My body fits so well with his, tucking into all the right spaces, our legs tangling together with ease.
It’s almost more than my heart can handle.
I have not wished for many things in my life—I wanted to be an idol, find success with my group, and be with Kim Kija. I was completely dedicated to my pursuit of all of them, and each has paid off. Beautifully.
Kija tilts his head, leaning in for a kiss, and takes my breath away. Just like every time his lips have met mine. The dizzying rush, the butterflies in my stomach. Maybe because this is still all so new. Maybe it’s just because it’s him.
“Again,” I request, the moment he puts even the smallest distance between us. I raise up, but he gently guides me back, shifting so he’s hovering over me, and I think I might die.
I am so, so close to begging. I want him to take me. To have me any and all the ways he wants me. But he pulls away just as I’m about to whimper and grind up against him, seeking friction and release. “Hyung, please.”
“Not yet,” he tells me, nosing along my jawline, making me shiver. “We have time.”
“Don’t want time. Want you,” I protest, wrapping my arms and legs around him, forcefully bringing his body down onto mine. The rush of pleasure I feel from the weight of him on me—the heat and hard lines—is so intense I can’t hold back the moan that escapes.
“Sun-ah,” he scolds, but the strained tone sounds more like it’s meant for him, rather than me. “I’m trying to be good.”
I don’t resist the urge to move against him, rocking our hips together. “Why? Why be good? I’m right here. I want you. Show me what you like. I can learn.”
Kija rearranges himself again until he’s lying on his side, looking at me. “I likethis. I like being here with you. After all those nights on the phone, having you with me is…” He stops, seeming to search for the right word. “It’s good. I know that doesn’t sound like much, but it is. I don’t usually get this… the getting-to-know-you part. The appreciating who you are. And it’s good for me.”
How he cares for me already, sometimes in ways I’m not even sure he realizes he’s doing, is truly like something out of a romance novel. I can’t get enough of these pieces of him, real and unfiltered by the limitations of how I can see him at work or even over the phone.
I don’t know how to respond to that, so I hide my face against his neck, breathing in the scent of his skin and the traces of his cologne. It makes my heart race and my head spin. I whine, overwhelmed again, just like I have been over and over since I got here.
Kija had opened his door and pulled me inside, gave me the sweetest kiss and hugged me—held me until I thought I might melt from how good it felt just to be in his arms.
He’d made dinner, handrolling gimbap and borrowing his mom’s kimchi recipe. We sipped soju at his kitchen table and talked, just like we have been doing at night, but face to face. Fingers lacing together on the tabletop as we listened to eachother’s stories.
When he swept me into his lap after dinner, one hand grasping my waist, the other on the back of my neck as he kissed me again and again for what felt like hours, I swore I was dreaming.
Moving from the dining room to his bedroom was enough to make my knees weak as he had grabbed my hand and walked backward, leading me. He stopped just outside and asked if I was okay with following him in. I think he may have been blushing a little. But he was—heis—such a gentleman, it makes my heart squeeze with all the affection that I feel for him.
His hand moves down my back, slowly drawing me to him. “What’s on your mind, Sun-ah?”
“You,” I say without hesitation. It’s the truth. “Always you.”
“Yeah? Why is that?” His other arm drapes over my waist, and I rest my head on his bicep, content to snuggle with him like this.
“This all feels like so much. Just being so close. In your arms like this. I love physical contact and casual affection, but this is like the next level,” I admit. I’ve always liked touching and being touched by my friends. But there’s such a difference in this, and my whole body just wants to bask in it.
Kija rolls onto his back, bringing me with him to lie on his chest. I can feel each breath he takes and hear every beat of his heart, and it fills me with a kind of gratitude I’ve never known. Is this what it feels like to have everything you’ve ever wanted?
“I know what you mean. This is new for both of us. In different ways, but maybe some of the same, too,” Kija says. “I’m a little scared about some things, but I’m looking forward to figuring them out with you.”
