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“I’m trying, Sang,” he said, squeezing my hand. “I’m nice to you, aren’t I? I mean I know I messed up when I let you win, but I was trying to get you to smile and relax. I thought it was working.”
“Kota,” I whispered, un
able to find my voice.
His cheeks tinted. “I get close and you stiffen up like I’m just some stranger and you’re uncomfortable.”
“I don’t know I’m doing that,” I said. I was nervous, but I didn’t know how to be any other way. I’d never done things like this before. Wasn’t he nervous at all? Weren’t other girls nervous when they first started getting close to someone?
“Do you not like me?” he asked, though his voice bordered on desperate. “Not in that way?”
It was more complicated than a yes or no answer. My knees knocked together as a tremor swept through me.
“See?” he said. “I can’t even ask you something without you looking terrified.” He sighed, dropping his forehead until it touched the top of mine. He hovered so close, clutching my hand like a lifeline. “What am I doing wrong?”
“You’re not doing anything wrong.” And I knew it in my heart he wasn’t. I was the one messing up. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what you want me to do.”
“I want you to do what you want,” he said. “I don’t want someone telling you what you should do, or me telling you where to sit, or what to do for the afternoon. I don’t—I don’t want someone else telling you when you should kiss me, when it’s something you don’t want.”
Waves of frustration swept over me, mostly toward myself realizing his meaning. Maybe this whole time, all the times he stopped short when I thought he would kiss me or do something similar, he backed off because he thought I didn’t want to. I couldn’t imagine what sort of looks he thought I was giving him, but I didn’t know how to control that.
I mumbled, not knowing the words to say or how to drag him out of this. My hands found his shoulders. I held onto them for support as I got on my toes.
And I planted a kiss just above his eyebrow. I’d thought about his lips, but I didn’t have enough courage for that. I thought this was enough.
I let my lips linger on his forehead. I didn’t know how long I should do it for, and I was afraid to back away. He said he couldn’t look at me and if I backed off, he’d know I was terrified now, too. Did I just make a mistake?
“Sang,” he breathed, with a touch of surprise in his voice.
I wobbled on my toes, so I fell back. In an effort to hide my eyes so he wouldn’t worry, I left them mostly closed, and tried staring at my hands as they fell from his shoulders to his chest. “She didn’t force me, Kota,” I whispered. “I wouldn’t have, if I didn’t want to.”
I sensed him lowering his head, and this time I closed my eyes. His lips brushed just above my eyebrow. At first I thought that was going to be it. Something I barely felt.
Suddenly his hands found the side of my head, cupping just under my ears on my neck. He held me still.
He kissed my forehead.
Something new happened to me this time. A strange soothing feeling swept over me. In a way, it was like I’d been holding my breath for years, and this was the first time I ever let it out and could relax. The air was sent from his lips, and glided down into my heart. I sucked in a heavy breath, inhaling in his spice, breathing him in.
“How come you never did this before?” he whispered against my forehead.
“I didn’t know how,” I said. “I didn’t know I could.”
“Sang.” His hands ran down my body. He found my waist and scooped me up. I wrapped my arms around his neck for stability. He turned away from the wall, kissing my eyebrow.
As he walked across the room, I was disoriented. When he started to lower down, I thought he was trying to kneel on the floor. Instead, my back met with one of the beanbag chairs. His knees sank into the material, one planted on either side of my hips. He propped himself up on his elbows as he hovered over me.
His lips met with my eyebrow again, longer. His lips parted. I felt the wetness of his mouth against my skin. He pressed down heavily and then sucked gently at the end. He kissed again and again, making a trail across one eyebrow, and switched, kissing the other.
I remained still underneath him. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I was afraid to look at him, and he was so close I wasn’t sure I could. When his shoulders arched as he switched kissing my brows again, my hands slid down to his chest. I pressed gently, not to push him off, but grasping. I collected handfuls of the blazer he wore. My hands closed around the material, gathering it.
Kota pulled away, gently knocking my hands away from his chest. He ripped the blazer open, shoving it off his back and chucking it across the room. He did the same with the tie, and unbuttoned a few buttons on the white shirt underneath. His palms landed on either side of my hips, and he clutched at me as he lowered another kiss at the spot between my brows.
My hands stopped short of touching his chest again. The sudden removal of some of his clothes had me wondering if he’d remove more if I touched again. My fingers shook. I didn’t want him to think I was afraid, even though I was. I couldn’t help it. Being afraid didn’t mean I wanted him to stop, either. Kota’s kisses were air when I felt breathless. I craved it. Was this what I’d been missing out on?
He kissed once more against the corner of my eye, backed up. His hands reclaimed my thighs, shoving me to one side until he settled into the bag chair next to me. He threw one arm over my shoulders, while the other hooked at my legs, drawing them over his until I was curled up next to him. I was in his lap, but with the chair, he could hover over me close.
He dropped a forefinger against the edge of my jaw close to my ear, and traced the line to my chin. “Sang,” he murmured, his face hovering close until his nose nuzzled my cheek.
My hands settled onto his chest again. I felt the undone button at his collar. “Kota?”
His fingers dropped to my shoulder, tracing down until he touched my elbow. He nudged my arm until my palms cupped his face just under his jaw. My fingers twitched, the tips sliding against the soft spots of his skin right behind his ears.
Kota clutched tighter to me, closing his eyes and shuddered. “I shouldn’t,” he whispered. “I can’t...”
“Can’t?” I gazed up at him through half open eyes. I couldn’t believe how comfortable he was. Wasn’t I sitting like this with him downstairs? It was comfortable, but now I was snuggled into him further, and I was warmer. His body just seemed to fit mine into it. Now that I was here, I didn’t want to get up.
His green eyes met mine. “Please,” he begged in a quiet whisper. “No, I can’t stand those eyes.”
I moaned, uttering my frustration. I didn’t know what to do other than close them. “Don’t look,” I said.
His eyebrows shifted up. “Hm?”
“If you can’t look at them, don’t look,” I said. I pulled a hand around, touching the corner of his glasses. Gently, I tugged them away from his face.
Kota remained perfectly still as I pulled the glasses away. I folded them in one hand. He blinked at me, the lashes crossing over his green eyes. The angle of his jaw, the dark brows, the high cheekbones, everything complimented his features.
He dropped his head again, his nose finding mine. He nuzzled close, his lips hovered, but he never moved closer. He slid his nose down, crossing over my cheeks, breathing out heavily as he did.
His fingers found my jaw line, and traced the edge. With the way he moved his fingers, his thumb ended up just above my lower lip. Instinct took over me, and I puckered my lips, kissing his thumb.
Kota backed his head away, his brows up in surprise. He snatched up one of my hands, drew it to his mouth, kissing the thumb. His glasses that I’d been holding fell to my lap. He found my other hand and pulled it around, kissing it, too.
My lips parted as I sucked in a breath.
Kota let go of one of my hands, touched his forefinger gently to my lower lip, like he’d done with his thumb. I understood he wanted me to kiss his finger. I didn’t understand why, but I did it.
The moment I did, he singled out my own forefinger and kissed the tip, and continued kissing it all the way to
the knuckle where it met my palm. When he finished, he hovered his last three fingers over my lips.
I lifted my head, pecking at his fingers. I didn’t understand this game. I kissed him a little; he kissed me in the same place. He didn’t kiss my brow until I’d kissed it first. Is that how it worked? Wasn’t the guy supposed to kiss first? Why was Kota making me do it?
I didn’t mind kissing the fingers first. The brow and his cheek, I was willing. I promised myself though a real kiss, one on the lips, I wouldn’t do that until Kota did. Nathan kissed my fingers. Victor had kissed my cheek and face. I wanted to do things the right way. It didn’t feel like I should until he did it first.
Kota kissed my fingers, back and front, and lowered himself again until he kissed my brow. He drew me in until he was hugging me, his lips meeting my eyebrows again. “I can’t stop,” he said, his voice taking on a deeper, huskier tone. “Make me stop.” His kisses trailed from one corner of my eyebrow to the other across the ridge.
“Why?” I breathed, closing my eyes since he was so close.
He grunted, dropping a heavy kiss between my brows again before pulling back. “I don’t want to scare you.”
“I’m not scared,” I said, fully believing it. I was nervous, but I wasn’t afraid of him. I fiddled with his glasses in my lap, unsure of what else to do with them. I didn’t want to drop them on the floor, and I thought they would roll off if I put them down on the edge of the chair.
He sighed, dropping his head until his nose pressed to my cheek. He nuzzled slow.
There was a knock at the door down the stairs. “Kota?” Erica called up.
At the sound, Kota leapt up from the bean bag chair as if it were on fire. He sucked in a breath, adjusted a tie that wasn’t there at his neck. He turned and started down the steps.
I gathered myself, curling up in the chair and held his glasses. I clutched them to my chest.
The door opened downstairs. “Yeah?” Kota’s voice drifted up to me.
“Oh,” she said. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“What do you need?” he asked.
“Jessica called wanting to be picked up, and I just started dinner. Did you want to...”
