It caught me off guard. But in next second...
He stood, still holding me, and carried me to the bedroom—one hand pressing against the small of my back, the other cupping me gently. He laid me down softly on the bed, deepening the kiss with care.
I've never thought of myself as a good kisser. And he proved it. But just as I began to lose my breath, he shifted—kissing my cheek, the tender spot behind my jaw, my neck, my shoulder, the curve of my shoulder blade.
I don't know when my crop top landed on the ottoman. All I remember was how his lips moved with patience—teasing, tasting, worshipping. My body filled with his kisses, each one unraveling me gently, pulling something ancient to the surface.
The next thing I knew, I was lying on the white sheets, wearing nothing but my bra and a thong. His body hovered close, his warmth surrounding me—and yet, somehow, I knew he was holding back.
His lips returned to me with slow reverence, and each kiss made my body feel heavier, like I was sinking into something deeper than the mattress. My breath grew shallow, my thoughts drifting into stillness, where only the feeling of him remained.
He then slipped the lace thong from my hips—smooth and careful. He held it for a moment, then placed it gently on top of the pile of my clothes, like it was made of crystal and he was afraid it would break.
This time, his lips moved with more than a teasing heat, trailing lower with purpose. I gasped as his tongue found my core—slow at first, then deep and certain. I arched against the sensation, no longer in control of my own body. His hands gripped my thighs, keeping me open beneath him, steady even as I trembled.
All thought disappeared. There was only his mouth, his name spilling from my lips, and the sudden, overwhelming release that left me gasping. He stayed with me, drawing every wave of pleasure until I was breathless, nearly undone.
I couldn't think. My body arched uncontrollably, caught between tension and release. I screamed his name as the waves crashed over me, and when it ended, I was trembling—spent, stunned, literally gasping for breath. He didn't stop until he drank every drop of my wetness like he'd been starving for me.
I felt like I might faint from the intensity. And still—he held me gently, like I was something sacred.
He took a brief moment to wash up, then returned and gently held me in his arms. My head rested on his shoulder—I hadn't fully come back to myself yet. I couldn't figure out how his mouth had made me undone. I felt shy but satisfied.
His lips, carrying the faint scent of toothpaste, pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, then to the space between my brows. He chuckled quietly, looking at me in my daze, and pulled me closer—his arms warm and firm around me.
"You're so pretty," he whispered.
In my mind, I saw them again—his beautiful, deep brown eyes framed by long lashes. And a gruff voice, low and sure: I'll be looking for you. Wait for me.
Those eyes stood just a few steps away, set in a rugged face, surrounded by the hush of a misty forest. It was vivid. Clear. As if I were there.
"Sayang, you're cold. You're trembling."
Kaelen's voice pulled me gently back. I blinked. My body had begun to shiver. Only now did I feel the cold creeping in. He moved quickly—wrapping me in a blanket, turning off the air conditioning, and disappearing into the kitchenette.
He returned with a tin flask and a spoon, pouring out a small amount of amber liquid.
"Come, drink this. Just a spoonful," he said gently, coaxing. "It'll warm you up."
The scent hit me first—brandy, strong and heady. I took the spoon, hesitating, then let it slide down. Warmth bloomed in my chest.
"One spoon is fine," he smiled. "Any more and you'll get drunk."
Then he wrapped his arms around me again in a bear hug, holding me close until he felt the warmth returning to my skin. Until I stopped trembling.
And still, the image lingered—those eyes in the forest, the voice that felt like a promise across lifetimes.
I rolled my eyes at myself and smiled. God, I was getting way too sentimental.