He stands abruptly and scoops me into his arms. Two strides and I’m on the bed. He slaps his hand on a button near the nightstand and the soft whirring of a motor engages as the curtains slide shut.
“Fancy,” I murmur.
“Necessary,” he replies.
I have a fleeting thought about who else he’s had on this bed making those curtains necessary but shove that out of my head because it doesn’t matter who he’s had in the past. I’m here now. I twine my arms around his neck and pull him to me. His hand on my waist, his mouth on my neck, his heavy frame pressing me into the mattress—those are the meaningful things.
This moment is different from the others. We’ve had sex in an Airbnb room, a frantic near coupling in an office restroom, a forbidden encounter in his mother’s—my mother’s—house, but here there is no time limit, no worry about interlopers, no heavy thoughts, just him and me, skin to skin, mouth to mouth.
I sink deeply into the feelings, into him. When there is only Yujun and me, the outside world and its constraints and rules and expectations do not exist. I open my legs and pull him into my body, matching his urgent strokes with thrusts of my own. He kisses me or I kiss him. It’s hard to say. Neither of us lasts long, not this first round. Our hunger is equal and our need is unquenched. It’s been too long and so almost before we descend from the mountaintop we begin the climb again, our limbs never untangling, our skin never separating. We moan and laugh and sigh, fingers digging deep into thighs and shoulders. His mouth is everywhere, from my jaw and my breasts and my knees and the soft spot on my inner thighs to the even softer spot between my legs.
His tongue does wicked things that curl my toes and I repay him a thousandfold, taking his length into my mouth, swallowing him deep. I lose all my inhibitions and ride him mercilessly, until he’s the one begging for release. I kiss his dimples, the ones that grow deep enough to drown in when he’s at his happiest. We collapse onto the mattress full of sweat and tender feelings. As I drift into neverland, he whispers in drowsy, deep Korean that he missed me, that he loves me, that he’s home.
CHAPTER TWELVE
On Monday, carrying two coffees, I take the elevator to the fourteenth floor instead of getting off on the seventh. One of my privileges as Wansu’s daughter is that there is no place I can’t go, including Bomi’s desk in the Research and Development Department. It’s still early and there’s almost no one present, except for my friend, who is diligently bent over her work. Of course she would be here early.
“Hara, is everything all right?” She stands up immediately and rushes to my side. “Should I call Wansu? Don’t you ride to work with her?”
“Not always and not today. I came early.” I hand her one of the drinks. “I need you to come save me for lunch. Bujang-nim is always telling me and the other two women in my office to eat together, but I think they’ve got plans, so please don’t make me look like a loser who has to eat on her own.”
“I eat on my own.”
“I’m not calling you names or anything,” I tease.
Bomi bestows a small smile. “I’ll meet you in the lobby a little after one?”
“Yes. We are going to the pork truck again.” I wave bye and head down the hall toward Yujun’s office.
“Hara!” Bomi whines.
“I know you love it,” I call to her and disappear around the corner. After that errand is finished, I bounce down to the seventh floor and settle in to work.
Even though I am still proofing the document that I proofed two weeks ago, the anticipation of seeing Bomi for lunch helps the morning go by quickly. That and the occasional text I get from Yujun informing me that he arrived at the office, that he appreciated the iced Americano that I left there, and that he’s happy to be back in Korea.
No one is happier than me.
ME: I’m having lunch with Bomi today
YUJUN: What about me?
ME: I left you the iced Americano what more do you want
YUJUN:
ME: It’s a workday! Don’t answer that
YUJUN: LOL
For the sake of my sanity, he moves on.
YUJUN: it’s my turn to take you to eat without sangki. save your Friday night
ME: Saved!
I’m giddy.
“Did you get good news?”
I’m momentarily silenced by surprise at Chaeyoung’s question. I glance at the desk next to mine where Soyou usually sits and discover it’s empty. I was so absorbed in my texting that I didn’t realize she’d left.
“Yes. I did. I”—don’t want to tell Chaeyoung I’m going on a date with Yujun because she might find it off-putting or more evidence of my nepotism hire—“got a notice that there was a sale on a pair of earrings I liked.”
“They must be very pretty.”
“Very. Silver with dangling pearls.” As my mouth moves indiscriminately, the rest of my brain is telling me to shut up because finding these is going to be a real bitch if Chaeyoung asks to see them.
“Was the Summer Splash Party fun?”
The light bulb goes on. She must’ve seen photos of me at the event. “It was. Sangki got us in because the tickets have been sold out for a while, he said.”
“Yes. They sell out in seconds.” She snaps her fingers and the jewels embedded in her nails twinkle.
“You should come with us next time.”
“It was the last one.”
“There’s the Banpo Music Fest,” I suggest.
“Maybe.” She starts to swivel away.
Desperately, I throw out, “I have backstage passes.”
She turns back. “From DJ Song?”
I blank and then remember that’s Sangki’s stage name. “Yes. From him.”
“Could I bring a frie—” She cuts off and her eyes fly to a space over my shoulder.
Soyou must be back. Chaeyoung resumes typing as if she wasn’t trying to finagle celebrity perks from me ten seconds ago. I rub a finger across my eyebrow in frustration and counsel myself to take this slow. If I start walking across the earth, at some point I’ll make it around the entire world. This is the second time that Chaeyoung has initiated a conversation with me, which means she’s thawing. I’m at least a mile into our journey to becoming frenemies. By the end of the year, maybe she’ll gather up enough courage to speak to me when Soyou is around. It’s progress.