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I snicker. "Is that the plot of one of your new shows?"
The way he laughs must echo throughout the entire apartment building, making everyone wondering what the hell is going on up in the penthouse. His eyes are squeezed shut as he laughs, so I reach over and tickle his chest with my fingertips which makes him yell and roll over, trapping me under him, my legs under his as he straddles me, digging his fingers into my sides, making me squeal.
"Help! I'm being attacked! By a soap opera watching billionaire who gets mad if you tell him that watching people fall in love in the rain isn’t really your cup of tea!”
"Shhhh,” he says, cupping his hand over my mouth. “You don't really want to be rescued, do you?" His eyes are as bright as the cloudless sky that we woke up to, the blue almost glass-like, as if there's no end to them. I always hear about things being bottomless. Kylian's eyes look like they open up into the heavens, and there is no limit to the height ones can reach, staring into them.
His head drops to press a kiss to my lips, pushing the thoughts about his eyes away, and my arms wrap around his neck so he can't pull away.
"If someone came to rescue me from you, I'd call the police on them,” I whisper, my heart skipping a beat at my own confession.
His left eyebrow crooks and I wonder what romantic notion he’s about to say that will out-romance me. "Angel, that sounds like it should be the opening narration for a true crime documentary.”
“What? Take that back! It was incredibly romantic, not my fault you have no appreciation for poetry.” I reach down and slap the back of his thigh and he whines, feigning pain. “Might have to call an ambulance instead,” I giggle.
“Sweetheart, I’d never let them take me away from you, even if I was bleeding from you breaking my heart.”
“Damn.”
“What?”
“That got me in the feels.”
“I was actually aiming for getting you somewhere else.”
The phone on his nightstand buzzes. “You should get that,” I say.
“Not a chance in hell,” he says.
It buzzes again and something about the thudding of the vibrating phone feels like our sanctity is being violated. I almost want him to answer it so that whoever is calling can go away and leave us alone.
“Please, you should answer it.” I pat him gently on the chest. “I have to use the bathroom anyway.”
He pouts and then says.
"Whoever it is can wait."
I brace on the bed, leaning across it to give him a soft kiss.
"As someone who has waited for you, I feel for them. Answer the phone. I'm going to take a shower. Then I guess we should leave the apartment?"
His face reveals that he’s not too hot for that suggestion. "Why? Why do we ever have to leave again? I can order food and groceries, we don't need clothes, we can declare this a clothes-free sovereign country. And there's a new season of my favorite Korean drama starting next week. TV, food, sex and sleep with you, I have everything I need here. But if you want to go, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go on this planet."
His words touch a place inside me that has never been touched.
Between his body and his words, there are parts of me that might never have been discovered until now.
"What about work?" I ask, some part of me needing to sabotage every lovely thing he says. Still trying to hold on with my fingertips to the part that still stopped me falling completely into the hurricane that is Kylian.
"What about it?"
"Wouldn't you miss it? You were just telling me you love working."
"I do but I..." His sentence fades into nothing, his eyes on mine. I wonder if he knows he’s saying things with the way he looks at me that he can’t say with his words.
"Answer the phone," I say, and then walk down the stairs, blaming the exertion for my breathlessness when I arrive at the bottom.
What had he almost said?
