Page 18 of Show Off

The same thing I want, apparently.

As Dal grabs my waist, I let myself land on his lap. Let my legs fall apart, so I’m straddling him here on my couch. My hair falls over my face and Dal brushes it back, eyes locked with mine. “Tell me if you don’t want this.”

“Do I look like I don’t want this?”

He doesn’t answer. Not with words. His mouth claims mine, and it’s not gentle. He’s rough and possessive, heat searing my core as his tongue finds mine.

I groan and grab the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s kissing me deep, big hands rolling down my back to cup my ass. I arch against him, pretty sure that’s not a pepper grinder in his pants. How did we get here?

I don’t want it to stop, and neither does Dal. He’s laying me back on the couch, big body covering mine as my legs wrap around him. It’s too fast and not fast enough. I’m dizzy and dying to get my hands on his chest. I claw at his shirt like I might just rip it off his body.

“Don’t stop,” I whimper when he breaks the kiss.

“I’m not.” He tugs off his shirt and I help becausegoddamn—I need to touch him.

His dark pecs gleam in the light from my lamp. I trace the lines of muscle with my eyes. “You should be shirtless all the time.”

He smiles against my mouth. “The restaurant health inspectors might have something to say about that.”

“Pity.” I let my hand trail the ink on his pec. I noticed it earlier, deep red chilis twined with Asian characters. I can’t read Korean and I’m not even sure that’s what this is, but it’s beautiful. Beautiful and…hard. Smooth. Deliciously touchable and?—

Dal looks down and his jaw hardens. When he closes his eyes, I know I’ve lost him.

Dammit.

“Dal?”

He opens his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“For kissing me?” I know that’s not the reason. “Or for running away like you’re going to?”

“I’m not running.”

I search his eyes, wondering what’s racing through his mind. “We’re all running.”

Dal doesn’t argue. Just tips his head down and kisses me soft and sweet. Regret’s in his eyes as he draws back. He gets up slowly, pulling me with him.

As he straightens my top, I hand him his shirt from the back of the couch. “You really should be shirtless all the time. I already regret giving you this.”

He takes the tee and pulls it on. “I regret a lot of things.”

I don’t ask what they are. I don’t probe and I don’t push. That’s not how this works. Some stones are better left unturned.

But as I walk him to the door, I can’t help wondering.

With my hand on the doorknob, I bite my lip. “If I hadn’t touched your tattoo?—”

“That’s not it.” He doesn’t tell me whatitis. “I have to go.”

“Okay.”

Dark eyes flash as his eyes hold mine. “I can’t—” He stops himself and rubs a hand down his face. “It’s not a good idea.”

Now’s not the right time to pursue. To make my case for why touching each other is a fucking fantastic idea. I know human nature enough to grasp that chasing Dal will just make him run quicker. “I understand.”

I don’t, though.

Maybe Dal doesn’t either, since he’s frozen in place, looking unsure if he should stay or go. With a ragged breath, he squeezes his eyes shut. “Good night, Lana.”

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