He tried to pull away from her softness, struggling to hold onto the remnants of his composure. But her long, slender legs wrapped around his waist, refusing to let go, as her delicate fingers traced his face, curled around the back of his neck, drawing him back in, trying to keep him close.
Her brown eyes, hazy with longing, shimmered with a devotion that tugged at him, pulling his thoughts back to her, one by one.
He knew he should regain control, pull himself out of this intoxicating haze, but her embrace felt like a love-bound cage, holding him captive.
Though he hadn't had a drop of alcohol, he was utterly intoxicated by her.
When he didn't immediately continue his fervent kisses, she batted her lashes, teasingly brushing her lips against his, rekindling the smoldering heat within him.
Love felt like a web, each brush of their lips weaving a pleasure that made him unwilling to pull away.
What finally undid him was when she stopped kissing him and instead leaned close to his ear, whispering softly, "Kiss me."
Her words were like a switch for him. Abandoning the composure he struggled to keep, his fingers tangled in her hair, and he pressed his lips to hers in a deep, consuming kiss.
Her delicate cheeks flushed with a rosy tint from intoxication, and her neck was painted red with shy desire. She loved this feeling of being cherished, eager to be his.
He nibbled on her earlobe, kissing her deeply yet possessively, trailing from her lips down to her neck. His hands slipped under her shirt, cupping her soft, full curves, savoring her warmth and scent.
Her legs trembled slightly as she unconsciously loosened her hold on him. She bit her lip, hesitant to make a sound, swallowing her soft sighs. Yet with each deepening touch, the quiet desire she held for him began to awaken.
Her eyes were misted, and with a voice soft as flowing water, she couldn't help but ask him, "I want…"
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice husky as his hands kneaded her soft skin, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles, lingering at her most sensitive spots.
"I want you…" she pleaded, pressing against his solid chest, her voice thick with longing.
He paused, a pang of bitterness rising in his throat, and he whispered into her ear, "Do you love me?"
He didn't need any more proof to know how much he liked her, how deeply he loved her. He was ready to cherish her, to hold her close and keep her forever.
But what about her? Did she love him, even just a little? He wouldn't mind if she did, even just a bit.
"I…" She gasped, letting her kiss convey her feelings. "I love you…" "I love you…"
Her kiss brushed his lips as softly as a feather, her confession seeming to spur him on.
Drawn in by her allure, he couldn't restrain the burning desire he felt for her. His hand lifted the edge of her skirt, sliding beneath the lace to caress her warmth.
"Mmm…" She trembled, her legs shaking, as warmth continued to flow where he touched her.
She felt utterly embarrassed, yet she didn't want him to stop.
He was considering carrying her to the bedroom when they heard the door open.
Instinctively, he withdrew his hand, holding her in a casual embrace, shielding her close, just in case his mother decided to check the kitchen.
Braden hadn't expected his mother—who was supposed to be away—to be home now, without giving him any warning.
Elise clung fearfully to his chest, nestled against him. With their bodies pressed close, she felt his firm warmth against her, a heat that made her shy, yet she dared not move.
Her eyes grew heavy, fluttering as she began to doze off, the scent of cedarwood from him like a potent sedative, lulling her to rest in his arms.
In the end, all their worry was for nothing—his mother never entered the kitchen. He later realized it was just the sound of the door she hadn't closed properly.
He glanced down at the woman in his arms, thinking she could sleep through anything. Maybe she really was that tipsy.
So, he decided not to bring up tonight's events, locking them away as if they'd never happened.
------
"Do you love me?"
"I love you…"
I love you… love you…
At six-thirty in the morning, Elise woke up from the dream, startled. Glancing around, she realized she was home, lying in her own room with her pink cherry blossom bedspread and lavender pillows.
She let out a relieved breath—thankfully, it was all just a dream. If Braden knew she'd been fantasizing about him, where would her dignity be? She'd rather slam her head into a wall.
It was just a dream, but it left her with lingering unease, especially since, in the dream, she'd actually enjoyed his touch.
She nervously smoothed her skirt, relieved that there was no inappropriate reaction. This was something he could never, ever find out about!
Absolutely not!
As for how she got home last night, her memory was fuzzy. She vaguely recalled having salmon oyako don at his place and drinking the hot milk tea he'd bought, but everything else seemed to have been stolen from her mind, leaving no trace.
Her stomach growled. With some time to spare before work, Elise decided to stop thinking about things she couldn't remember. She grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom. As she stripped off her blouse and skirt, she realized the lingerie she was wearing… wasn't the same as before.
From a black tulle bow to a white lace shell design overnight? Or did she just misremember?
The deep grumbling in her stomach and the intense hunger left her no time to ponder any further. Right now, filling her belly took priority.
After her shower, she headed to the dining table, made herself some tuna spread toast, and brewed a cup of iced coffee, planning on a simple breakfast.
The front door creaked open, and her mom returned from outside. Seeing Elise eating breakfast, she couldn't help but chuckle.
"Almost thought you weren't coming home," her mom said, removing her light jacket and hanging it on the rack.
Elise took a sip of her iced coffee. "As if I wouldn't come home. I forgot my umbrella yesterday and couldn't get a cab, so I asked Braden to give me a lift. I even ended up playing video games at his place."
But as she said the word "video games," she started to wonder. Did she really play any games?
Her mom tapped her on the forehead with a finger. "You shouldn't keep bothering him. What if someone likes him and thinks you two are a thing? How would you explain that?"
"We're just close friends! I'm only like that with him…" That's how she saw it, but somehow Mylee's face popped into her mind and wouldn't go away.
Someone interested in him? Probably Mylee…
They were supposed to be just work partners, getting along fine. But those subtly snide messages from Mylee, the emotional undertones in her words, and that half-smiling, half-scornful look she wore in person—it all started to put Elise off.
No way was she letting him choose Mylee!
"You're not planning to be with him, so why cling to him all the time?" Her mom said, trying to persuade her. "You should start thinking about your own happiness. Even if you're not interested in romance, don't hold others back. Mom's saying this for your good. If you genuinely like someone, just go for it and don't waste each other's time."
"Is it really that serious?" Elise bit on her toast, not thinking for a second that their friendship could be misunderstood.
"I don't even know what to say to you. Just finish your breakfast and get to work." Her mom rubbed her shoulders, heading back to her room.
Elise frowned, propping her face on her right hand, toast in her left, still trying to figure out what had happened yesterday. Even her mom seemed to be acting weird.
But her memory was like a blank slate, no answers in sight. Realizing she was almost late, she grabbed her bag, downed her iced coffee, and dashed out the door, toast in hand.
