A whoosh of air escapes when his thick head penetrates my sex for the first time. He pauses immediately. “Gwaenchana?”
“Yes, I’m okay.” I dig my fingers into his shoulders and urge him on. “I’m good. Very good.”
He grins wickedly and slides home. I close my eyes and ride the sensations—his shaft rubbing along all those nerves, his chest making contact with my nipples, his mouth devouring mine. He’s furnace hot, and that heat sweeps through me, burning away the hurt and replacing it with bliss. I let the waves pull me under into a cocoon of euphoria. His own body heaves and shudders before he drops to my side. The moment that he leaves me, though, I can feel dark thoughts encroach.
“Don’t think anymore, Hara. Not tonight.” He presses my head against his chest. His heart is still thundering. “There will be time for that tomorrow. “
My mind doesn’t work like that. My brain refuses to rest though my body is deliciously relaxed, and Yujun seems to sense my inner turmoil. His chest rumbles as he speaks again. “We can have a Korean lesson. Will that help you fall asleep?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay. New word. Repeat after me: choahaeyo.”
“Chohay-o.”
“More like choaiyo. Swallow the h.”
“Choaiyo.”
“Good. I like you, too.”
“What?” I bolt up.
He drags me back down to his side. “I like you. Choahaeyo. Lie down next to me. I need to rest before I take a taxi back to your place to fetch my car.” I’m torn between wanting him to leave and appreciating that he’s giving me space. “It’s too bad you lost your phone.”
“Beyond the obvious reasons, why?”
“I was going to enter this date so that in a month you could buy me a gift. It’s the twenty-first century. Women should be buying men gifts.”
He says this so cheekily that I can’t help but smile. It might be the first one I’ve worn all day. I feel out of practice. “Is that right?”
I can feel Yujun smiling. “Yes. In Korea, Valentine’s Day is where you must give me a present. I will expect flowers and chocolate. I like the chocolates with raspberries inside.”
I burst out laughing. “Are you kidding? Valentine’s Day is for women to buy men gifts?”
“Yes. Don’t forget.”
My laughter dies off when I think of how far away that made-up holiday is. “Valentine’s Day is months away. I may not even be here.”
“Of course you will,” he says, as if there isn’t even a question of me staying here for months at a time. “Christmas is sooner, I suppose. You can give me a gift at that time, too, although it’s not common. We’re Buddhists, you know.” I did not know. “Usually couples do things together. We can ice-skate or go to a ski resort. Do you ski?”
“No. I’m not very good at anything physical. I excel at all indoor activities such as drinking coffee, reading, napping. Those sorts of things.”
“Sounds perfect. It’s why lodges exist at all ski resorts.”
“You make it sound like I’ll be here for a while. It’s June and Christmas is six months away.”
“Finding Wansu was not the hard part, was it? It is figuring out how to go on from here that is the challenge, but we will wrestle the pig together.” I think that’s a general saying and that he’s not calling Wansu an animal. He likes her too much, more’s the pity. “You will learn about Chuseok,” he is saying, “which is our Thanksgiving, and the Lunar New Year and White Day, and we will get you a stamp so you can sign all your documents and—” He stops and his body tenses.
“And,” I prompt.
He gives himself a tiny shake. “And we will enter you into the registry, move you into a nicer place, find you a job, introduce you to all my relatives, which are not many, but still they will love you.”
“What about . . . her . . . relatives?”
“Both her parents died shortly after she married my father. They were in a car accident on the Mapo Bridge.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. This life . . . it has not always been easy for—” He cuts himself off. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s rest. Don’t move,” he says when I attempt to lie on my back.
“This can’t be comfortable for you. I’m lying on your arm. It’s going to fall asleep.”
“As if that wasn’t the reason I have arms,” he teases, folding his long limb around me. “We will untangle all of this,” he whispers.
I let him believe that. Maybe he can believe it enough for both of us.
“It could be worse,” he says.
“How?”
“We could actually be related.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The bed is toasty when I leave it. I slide out of bed and hobble to the bathroom. On the floor is the bag of clothes that Yujun got me from the gift shop. I shake out the contents and rummage through until I find a fresh pair of underwear. I clean up with a washcloth and dress myself. As I button the wide-legged trousers and tuck in the striped knit long-sleeve shirt, I wonder whether Yujun picked this outfit out or the salesperson did. Either way, it’s stylish and comfortable, which I appreciate. The hotel bathroom comes equipped with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and even a small disposable hairbrush. Just luxury-hotel things. If I had an active Instagram account, this would be perfect fodder for it, but my social media presence, much like my current life, is empty.