Page 110 of The Way Back Home

“Fixing the store,” he says calmly.

I exhale. “And then?”

His shoulders lift, settle. “We’ll figure that out in time.”

I push off the doorframe and cross the room. Drop down at the edge of the mat, my back half turned to him, elbows on my knees. My stomach is turning itself over. I look at him, his face. Ten years older and no less beautiful. The same brown eyes, the same elegant jawline, the same mouth that’s haunted every dream I’ve had since I was twenty-three years old. The boy I grew up with is a man now, but when he looks at me like that I can still see the kid who stood on the corner waiting for me every morning.

“Why couldn’t you just let me go, Seyeon?” I ask quietly. “I wanted you to let me go. Go back to Seoul. Live your dreams. Get married to some high maintenance city girl and be happy.” I look down at my hands, palms and fingertips calloused from years of work. “Why couldn’t you just do that? Why did you have to bring us right back here?”

“Who asked you to plan out my future for me?”

I let out a frustrated breath. “Because that’s what you said you wanted.”

Seyeon doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah. And I had it.” His tone shifts and his voice sounds thicker. “I left, and I did what I wanted to do. I tried. I tried to do exactly that.”

He shakes his head, his eyes flicker.

“But I spent the entire time missing you.” He swallows. “Having everything I wanted felt pointless because suddenly I didn’t have you to share it with. It wasn’t worth anything without you.”

I blow out a long breath through my nose and tip my head back. Stare at the ceiling. Blink until the burning behind my eyes settles. My heart slamming against my ribs makes it hard to think.

I feel his hand on my jaw. Warm fingers, gently pulling my face down so I have to look at him. His eyes are steady. Not angry or pleading. Certain.

“Right now,” he says, “I just want to have as much of you as I can get.”

That’s all he has to say to break something open inside me.

I kiss him. I catch his mouth with mine and push him back onto the mat, my weight following him down. Seyeon goes willingly, his hands coming up to grip my shoulders, pulling me closer. My fingers find the hem of his shirt and yank it up, Seyeon arching so I can pull it over his head, tossing it. My mouth is on his again before the shirt hits the floor, tongue pushing past his lips, tasting him, needing it. His chest is bare beneath me, his skin feverish under my palms as I run my hands down his sides, over the lean muscle of his stomach, grip the waistband of his joggers and pull. Seyeon lifts his hips, kicks them off, and I sit back just long enough to strip my own shirt, shove my sweats down.

Hunger grips me. The kind that takes over when I’m with him, mindless, greedy. The need to give him everything, to pour myself out until there’s nothing left. I want more of him. I need to give him more.

Seyeon lies back, bare, his cock already half stiff against his belly, his skin flushed pink from the shower and from wanting. His eyes follow me as I settle between his legs, push his thighs apart. He tips his chin up, his lips parting, a question forming.

“What are you—”

“Shh.” I press a kiss to the inside of his knee. “Giving you what you asked for.”

I kiss the inside of his thigh, feel the muscle twitch beneath my lips. Open my mouth against the warm crease where his thigh meets his pelvis and let my tongue drag there, slowly tasting salt and clean skin. Move lower. My hand slides under him, cups the swell of his ass, tilts his hips up. I press my mouth to the soft skin below his cock and tongue the underside of his balls, rolling the delicate weight of them against my lips.

Seyeon hisses above me, his hips arching, and I feel his hand come down to grip my hair. I look up, my mouth still on him. His head is lifted off the pillow, eyes wide, realizing what I’m about to do.

“Ryo, wait—”

I spread him open. Both hands cupping his ass, thumbs pulling his cheeks apart, and I lean in and drag my tongue flat over his hole. The sound Seyeon makes goes through me like a jolt. He curses, one hand fisting the bedding, the other tightening in my hair, and I’m already absorbed, my eyes falling shut as I lick over him again. Trace his rim with the tip of my tongue, circle it, feel the tight furl of muscle twitch and soften under my mouth. I seal my lips around the rim and suck gently and Seyeon’s hips buck, letting out helpless sounds of pleasure.

I lap at him with everything I have. Long, slow strokes of my tongue, then quick flicks over the center, pushing against the resistance. The taste of him floods my mouth, the sounds he’s making above me are driving me mad, stuttering gasps and soft startled moans. His thighs tremble against my ears. I curl my tongue and push, working into him, coaxing the tight ring of muscle to yield.

“Fuck.” Seyeon’s voice rasps, his back arching. “Ryowoon, that’s—”

I hum against him and push deeper, my tongue breaching the resistance, sinking into the heat of his body. Seyeon jolts beneath me, a strangled, “Ah, fuck!” ripping out of him hoarsely. His hips twist, trying to push up into my mouth and pull away at the same time, but I hold him steady, thumbs digging into the flesh of his ass as I plunge my tongue into him. I curl it, feeling along the slick walls, searching, and I know I’ve found what I’m looking for when his body seizes and he lets out a high-pitched sound. I work that spot mercilessly, my tongue pressing and stroking, and Seyeon comes apart. Panting, mewling, his fingers clawing at the bedding, his thighs shaking and clamping against my head. I don’t stop. Keep licking, keep pushing into him, keep finding that spot until his moans climb higher and higher, desperate, a litany of fuck, fuck, oh god, fuck that makes my cock throb between my thighs.

He cries out when he comes, bowing off the mat, cock pulsing untouched, ropes of cum spilling across his stomach and chest. I feel the clench of his body around my tongue, the squeeze as he pulses through it, and I stay there, mouth on him, gentling my strokes as the tremors slow.

His chest is heaving when I finally rise, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. I crawl up over him, pressing my lips to his belly, tasting the salt of his release, licking up the streaks painted across his skin. My tongue drags through the mess on his chest and I feel his stomach jump under my mouth, his breathing still ragged. I kiss the hollow above his collarbones, press my mouth there and breathe him in.

“You’re out of your mind,” he whispers, shaking. “How can you just do that?”

I smile against his skin. “Easily.” I kiss up the column of his neck, nip the hinge of his jaw. “I like the way you taste.”