Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Even though my eyes were closed, I could feel the sunlight's prick through my shut lids.
My forehead creased into a frown, and I shifted, feeling a slow pressure build in my head with every little movement. "God," I groaned as I sat up a little, the muscles in my back and shoulders feeling stretched and aching with an exhaustion I didn't remember.
Something weighted against my lap as I tried to straighten and stretch out my joints. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes, squinting at first, but blanching as soon as I identified the obstruction.
Taeyong's head rested in my lap, the rest of him laid out against the leather backseat of the car. His shirt was still damp, sweaty where it stuck to his torso, probably because of the discomfort of the night. His eyes were closed, but there was rigidity in his posture even as he slept, a tautness in his shoulders and a tightness to his forearms.
Bringing my hand closer to his face, I hesitated just before my fingertips could touch his porcelain-like skin. There was a scar on the crest of his left cheekbone, an old mark that, for some reason, I wanted to touch. The interior of the Stingray smelled humid and almost putrid, the scent of fresh earth and sweat wafting from our bodies and the open window—though not in that order.
My lips shaped an inaudible sigh, and the back of my fingers finally settled over his cheek. His skin was smoother than I'd expected, but still a bit rough, though there was a beauty to the touch that made my heartbeat once again thud at a faster pace and my gaze drop as fast as my engaged hand.
The outside of the car was much too different from the dark, haunted clearing I barely recalled. Sunlight shone through the rare canopies, and the vegetation looked lush and invigorating, rather than daunting.
I turned my eyes back to the sleeping boy in my lap. He stared up at me, eyes silent and cautious, hands still and controlled, none of the raging fire in his expression that had been so dominant the night before. So guarded was his posture that I would've thought the kiss a dream—save for the bruising purple-and-gold at his collar and a slight sting where his fingers had dug into my back.
Tensely, I swallowed back the dryness in my mouth, still feeling as if his lips were tracing a line of fire across my skin. The memories of the kiss were still vivid, like a neon sign, as if they wanted me to pay attention.
Taeyong lifted himself into a sitting posture, having stayed silent the entire time, not even a breath out of place. Subconsciously, my eyes flickered to his hard, leanly muscled back, and once again looked away as my pulse sped up in a mixture of embarrassment and remembrance.
I arched my back against the seat, working out the kinks that had developed into my still joints. Yes, last night's events had left me winded, but the sleep had been long and energizing, especially after such a tiring ride through the previous couple of days.
