I should have expected it.
The entire drive home, Chenghai had kept touching me whenever he could reach me. A hand on my thigh. Fingers around my ankle when the scar pulled. His palm at my back when I stood beside the SUV. He hadn't said much about what happened in Gu Han's cul-de-sac, but Chenghai rarely needed to talk himself through anything.
He needed to touch.
Right now, apparently, he needed a lot of it.
I turned in his arms and wrapped mine around his neck. The water ran over his hair and down his face while I kissed him, and his hands immediately tightened around my waist.
The kiss stayed slow for a while. We had nowhere to go, and nobody downstairs needed us badly enough to interrupt. Gu Han was dead, the tunnel was sealed for tonight, and the papers could sit on the table until morning without developing legs.
