The same dark car is waiting for us out front, and I step back, indicating to Young-gi that he should get in first. He opens the door, but holds it, and waves me in.
Yeah, right, like I’m about to turn my back on you.I gesture for him to go first.
He tilts his head at me, not like he’s confused but like he’s asking if I’m sure I want to be stubborn about this.
I tilt mine back, not like I’m not sure but more like Iamvery sure that I want to be stubborn about this.
He sighs, a small thing, but I swear I see the corners of his mouth lift a little bit. His smile on the plane was a sight to behold. If he’s hot when he’s feeling serious, he’s fuckingsmokingwhen he smiles. This isn’t a big smile, but it dazzles me enough that I just stand there and stare stupidly as he calmly walks to me, puts his big hand on the back of my neck, and guides me gently but firmly to the open door.
“Hey!” I stumble, not expecting it, but shut my mouth becauseoh my god I’ve got another boner.Why is this so fucking hot?! I let him bundle me into the car, and he crouches by the open door and leans over me again to buckle my seatbelt. I press myself into my seat as hard as I can, like it will help me get away from him.
I expect him to back off then, to circle the vehicle and climb in on his side so he can drop me off at dinner, but once he’s got me buckled in, he hesitates, and he looks at me from only inches away.
“Be good, Tommy,” he intones seriously.
“Um… huh?”
His little smile is back, and he runs a finger just under the seatbelt across my chest, like he’s testing how tight it is, but it feels like he’s flirting again. But he can’t be… can he?
“I’m going out of town in the morning. I’ll be gone for a few days. So be good while I’m gone. Listen to Kira, tell your security team when you’re leaving to go somewhere. Keep your phone on you, Kira bought it for you for a reason. It’s safer to have it.”
He’s… leaving?
Wait, seriously? Wait, is he saying goodbye right now? Again? He’s not even going to ride with me to dinner?
Fuck me, why does he do this to me? Why does he spin my thoughts around, light my body up with sensations, confuse and confound me and turn me the fuck on and then… leave? Why does this keep happening?
Why do I keep letting it happen?
“Whatever.” I look away. Because, because–just because. Because fuck him, and fuck me and fuck everyone and fuck everything. Why am I so mad?
Why am I so sad?
“I mean it, Tommy.”
“Sure you do, boss.” I roll my eyes, and maybe I want to provoke him because when his fingers grasp my chin and bring my eyes back to his, I feel a thrill inside my chest, like I got what I wanted.
He holds me firm and tells me sternly, “I mean it.”
And part of me wants to roll over and show him my metaphorical belly like a puppy and promise to be good, but most of me wants to flip him off and bite his hand and freak the fuck out and run off screaming into the night.
Ugh. I’m a hot mess.
I deliberate on his words like I’m debating whether or not I’ll obey, chewing on them with dramatic expressions so heknowsI’m debating. And I do that for a while, maybe testing his patience, maybe testing mine. I don’t fucking know. But he’s got patience for days and more discipline in his pinky than I’ve got in my whole body, so he holds real still and just stares at me, waiting me out like he always does.
He waits until I give up my attempt at being bratty and sag against the soft leather seat with my jaw still cradled in his hand, and just sigh. “I’m not good, Young-gi. I’ve never been good. I’m just Tommy.”
And I know I sound depressed, but I’m being honest.
Young-gitks’s his tongue at me, so softly I barely hear it. “No, Tommy. We don’t lie to each other. Don’t think I won’t go get soap if I need to.”
I’m sure you will.And knowing he’s got that much follow through, knowing he’s not all talk, gives me a very confused boner because, like, what is my fixation on soap being in my mouth? Or maybe it’s just the idea that he’s consistent about not letting me get away with bad-mouthing myself. That’s hot, I can admit that.
“I’m not trying to lie,” I say, and I hate that I can feel myself relaxing into his hold on my face. “I just don’t know how to be good.”
And if that’s not the truth, I don’t know what is. And why am I out here telling him this real shit? When did we get here? Wasn’t he just saying goodbye? Fuck him.
“That’s okay, Tommy. I’ll teach you.”
