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For one long, breathless moment Hye-jin is struck by the dizzying realization that Du-sik is going to kiss her.
His work-rough hands, cold from the ice he’d just been cradling and steady on her flushed skin, cup her face like she is something precious to him. His eyes--usually so clear, and bright with mischief--are hooded now, a little glazed, holding her gaze for a brief moment before flickering down to her lips.
He is going to kiss her, Hye-jin understands with a heart-pounding certainty that before now she’d only ever read about in romance novels. Right here, in this living room full of old books and ancient records and strange, unlabelled jars. Chief Hong is going to kiss her, and--
But he doesn’t. Without warning, Du-sik’s hands fall away from her face, all the heat and the openness in his expression gone again as quickly as they had arrived.
“It’s better now,” he says--even though Hye-jin feels seconds away from bursting into flames. The heat she’d felt moments ago, before he touched her, was nothing compared to this. His face is guarded as he leans back on his hands, and he smiles mildly at her--as if nothing unusual had just happened. As if the very basis of what Hye-jin had thought they were to one another had not just been shaken to its foundation by the simple act of his touching her so tenderly.
Hye-jin isn’t drunk. Not really. Yes, she’s had a bit more to drink tonight than she usually does, and yes , the room is spinning more than she wishes it would. But she’s still sober enough to know what she wants. And what she wants right now is for him to touch her like that again. To touch her face. To touch her everywhere. Her eyes dart to his mouth this time as she wonders if those plush lips of his are as soft as they look. If she’d be able to taste the whiskey they’d just shared on his tongue if she kissed him.
The room is spinning, making Hye-jin dizzy for reasons having nothing to do with alcohol.
She leans forward, her lips already on his before the rational part of her brain can catch up with what she is doing.
Hye-jin has never been someone to act without a plan. But she’s learning quickly that Gongjin--and Chief Hong--seem to bring out the impulsivity in her. If she were in her right mind she’d probably be shocked at herself right now, or feeling that familiar stab of self-doubt that has been her near constant companion for as long as she can remember. Right now, though, there is no room for worry, no room for doubt, no room for anything at all but the warmth of the alcohol in her bloodstream, the intoxicating scent of sea and soap that seems to cling to Du-sik like a second skin-- and him .
At first, though, it’s like kissing a statue. The second she touches him his body goes perfectly still, rigid, as she kisses him without reciprocation, his eyes wide and staring straight ahead of him as though the press of her lips to his had turned him into stone. For the longest time he doesn’t move at all except for the tiniest relaxation of his lower lip. Self-doubt--her faithful companion--comes rushing back into her mind, and she is just about to pull away, about to apologize and tell him she’s made a huge mistake, they don’t have to do this, could they please just forget this ever happened... when he comes alive.
“Hye-jin,” he whimpers, tugging her into his lap. She jostles a little against his broad chest as she gets situated, one leg slung over each of his hips.
Her whole body thrills as his mouth opens for her, and welcomes her tongue with his own.
“Is this really happening?” he mumbles, still kissing her. He sounds dazed, his hands inching slowly up her thighs until they come to a stop at her hips. He pulls back a little, staring up into her eyes as though searching for an answer to an important question.
Hye-jin nods. Yes, this is really happening . She can hardly believe it herself. She tunnels her fingers into his thick, soft hair--hair she’s longed to touch from the moment she met him. She revels in the tiny groan Du-sik makes in the back of his throat when her fingernails scrape his scalp, and vows to get him to make that sound again and again.
And then they’re kissing again, tongues tangling, teeth coming together with all the finesse you’d expect of teenagers making out on the living room sofa rather than a pair of grown adults. But Hye-jin doesn’t care. His hands creep further up her body, until they span the curve of her waist, pulling her in closer to him as he deepens the kiss.
“Du-sik,” she whispers against his mouth. His fingers tighten against her flesh and he groans, so softly she might have imagined it. The sound of it emboldens her, and she nips at his lower lip with her front teeth before soothing it with her tongue. He groans again, loud and deep, strong arms wrapping so tightly around her body she hardly knows where he ends and she begins.
A moment--or an hour-- later, Du-sik breaks the kiss. He pulls back, breathing hard now, his broad chest heaving. She wants to touch him there, feel the pulse and pull of his muscles and the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm without that old yellow t-shirt in the way.
“Hye-jin,” he whispers shakily, his cheeks at least as pink as hers were earlier. She likes the way her name sounds on his tongue. Like he wants her. Like he needs her. “We… should stop.”
She groans. “What if I don’t want to stop?”
He pulls back again, more purposefully this time. “I don’t want to stop, either.” He slowly, carefully, displaces her from his lap. “I want to keep kissing you, and touching you, and making you feel good until both of us are breathless. All night. Every night that you’ll have me. I’ve been forcing myself to hold back, to stay away from you, for so long because I didn’t think you wanted me. But...”
His words send twin ripples of pleasure and anticipation down her spine. “But, what?”
He looks at her, his gaze full of so much heat and devotion it takes her breath away.
“But, you’ve had a lot to drink tonight,” he says, sounding almost apologetic. As though it’s his fault she drank all that wine and then asked for whiskey. “I’ve had a bit to drink, too. If we keep going…” He trails off, then shakes his head. “I...I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Not yet.”
She pouts at him--though even as she does it, she can feel the truth of what he’s saying. If five minutes ago she’d been a little tipsy, now she can feel herself tilting precariously closer to being actually drunk.
“I don’t want to go home yet, though,” she confesses, petulant, her words slurring.
“I don’t want you to go home either,” he confesses. “Let me show you Gongjin instead.” And then he grins at her--that gorgeous, guileless smile of his that she’s been desperately trying not to think about ever since her first day here.
She frowns. “I’ve already seen Gongjin.”
“No you haven’t,” he counters. “Not the way I’m going to show it to you.”
With that, he pulls her to her feet in one graceful movement. Or at least, his movement is graceful. The moment she is standing, every sip of alcohol she’s had tonight rushes straight into her brain. She wobbles a little, losing her balance and toppling over into Du-sik, who catches her easily.
He chuckles, righting her, and presses another lingering kiss to her forehead. “Let me show you my Gongjin,” he clarifies, his words a gentle murmur against her skin. “Let’s just... play.” The strong arm around her shoulders slides down until he’s holding her firm around her waist, pulling her into him. “I want to play with you tonight, Hye-jin. There’ll be time for… for all the rest, another night.”
As he tugs her out the door of his home and into the cool night air, she grins up at the sky, feeling more than a little drunk by this point. She pulls her hand out of his, ignoring his protests, and sprints away from him, down the hill towards the beach where everything began.
When he meets her there, grinning at her, she throws her head back and laughs, feeling joyful and lighter than air and happy for the first time in what might be years.