Chapter Twenty-Six Rama
Aunt Sunnee sits in Pete’s living room, back straight, eyes deep and probing, a pleased smile curling her mouth. It’s disturbing how much she reminds me of my father. But my father’s never hurt me. An odd, weightless feeling envelopes me, and I’m falling.
Suddenly, I’m lying on the bed in the guest room and Pete’s telling me I need to eat something, but I don’t want to.
I hear the creak of the door and turn my head, expecting to see Pete leaving, but my aunt’s coming toward me instead.
Her cold fingers touch my shoulder as she murmurs my childhood nickname, “Kwang.”
“Leave me alone!” I shout the words, but they come out a whimper.
Sunnee’s grip on me is like iron. No longer a small naive thirteen-year-old unaware of her intentions, I strike out at her.
“Rama, Rama, wake up!”
My struggle becomes frantic. Why is Pravat here? I don’t want him to see me so weak.
But eventually his words break through, and I realize I’m caught in one of my nightmares. Aunt Sunnee dissolves from the bed, and I heave a great sob as cold sweeps through my body.
“It’s okay.” Pulling me into his arms, Pravat gently rubs my back. “You were dreaming.”
“She came into my room,” I say. “She…she…” I can’t continue. Shaking my head, I bury my face against his neck, warm and fragrant from sleep. Gently rocking me, Pravat makes soft shushing sounds. “It’s all right. You don’t have to say it.”
I nod, squeezing my eyes shut, tears running down my face and wetting Pravat’s T-shirt.
I suddenly recall a day not long ago when I walked past Pete and Alex’s room.
The door was ajar, and I caught a glimpse of them lying in bed in each other’s arms. Seeing them had given me a sad, hollow feeling.
Until now, this level of intimacy has been an impossibility for me, and my relationships have suffered because of it.
But with Pravat, I’m different. Even though I haven’t known him very long—even though he’s a man—I want to be near him.
Catching my breath, I curl my fingers into the soft cotton of his shirt. Despite being aroused, sex isn’t at the forefront of my mind. What I want from Pravat is indefinable to me at that moment.
Gently, I disentangle myself from his grip and lie on my back.
“I couldn’t concentrate,” I tell him shamefully. “They let me go from the internship because I couldn’t keep my mind on what I was doing.”
“You’re exhausted and need to rest. Don’t think of it as a failure on your part.”
“How can I not think of it that way?” I ask.
“This isn’t your fault. You never expected it to happen.” Pravat brushes away my tears with his thumb. The moonlight from the window plays with shadows across his face, emphasizing his high cheekbones and strong jawline.
Laughing humorlessly, I say, “I don’t even know what happened.”
“It sounds as though your aunt’s visit triggered you into facing something you buried a long time ago. You’re with me now, Rama. You can let it out.”
Relief and gratitude fill me, and I realize I really do want to talk about it with him.
“I never expected to see her. She lives in Utah, but she was traveling and stopped by Pete’s to say hello. I walked into the apartment, and there she was.”
Pravat gently squeezes my arm. “You’re okay now.”
I nod and roll back into his embrace. We fit together so perfectly. Pravat strokes my hair for a long time until, finally, his hand drops and his breathing evens out in sleep.
I wait until I’m sure I won’t wake him before sliding from the bed and slipping out the glass door to stand on the balcony. With the cool night air kissing my skin, I stare out at the tranquil dark water of the Chao Phraya.
I know I need to go see my father before he hears I’m back in Thailand, but I push that aside, concentrating on how much calmer I feel. My physical reaction to Pravat hasn’t diminished—there’s no denying that I want him, but just lying in his arms had given me something I very much needed.
With a sigh, I lean against the wrought iron balcony, remembering how I slid my mouth down the soft skin of Pravat’s chest during one of the love scenes we filmed.
At the time, I was very aware of all the eyes on us, but I also took in every sensation of the experience—a small taste of what it might be like to make love with a man.
Great, now I’m even more aroused. I accept the torment as a kind of punishment—I shouldn’t be thinking about my friend this way, and I definitely don’t deserve pleasure from it.
I don’t realize Pravat is behind me until he wraps his arms around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder.
When I jerk in surprise, he murmurs sleepily, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you heard the door open. Can’t sleep?”
“No,” I say. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I rolled over and you were gone,” he says.
I can’t help smiling at how that sounds like something a lover would say.
“Is there anything I can do to help you sleep?” Pravat asks, and fuck. He’s probably offering tea or maybe a back rub, but the fact that I can feel every line of his body against mine has dragged my thoughts into the gutter.
Lifting his chin from my shoulder, Pravat says softly, “Rama?”
When I don’t answer, he withdraws, arm accidentally brushing against the head of my swollen cock in the process. I suck in a sharp breath of air, and he goes completely still behind me.
“Pravat, please,” I manage to murmur. At that moment, I don’t care what it means that I want him or what the consequences will be. I simply need him to touch me because he’s Pravat and I’m Rama and we both want this.
Pravat’s breathing picks up next to my ear.
“Rama, I don’t know what you’re asking me.”
“Yes, you do,” I say entreatingly, and when his arms encircle me again, I hold my breath, waiting.
Slowly, Pravat slides a warm hand beneath the thin T-shirt I’m wearing, lightly stroking my abdomen with his fingers.
I’m shaking, I’m so turned on by this man.
When his hand comes in contact with my aching cock, a strangled moan rises from my throat, and it only takes a few strokes of his warm palm to send my world spinning.
Shuddering in his arms, I lean my head back, and Pravat kisses my forehead. When he begins to pull away, I grab his arm and slowly bring his fingers to my mouth, licking them off one by one, ending with my tongue swirling over his trembling palm.
“Rama,” the word breaks from his lips, and I turn around, clasping his face between my hands.
“Kiss me,” I say desperately. Without hesitation, he covers my mouth with his, taking me apart inch by inch with lips and tongue.
I can feel how hard he is against my thigh, and I push against him, swallowing the deep moan I draw from his throat.
He pushes back, and we grind against each until he cries out brokenly between my lips and melts into my arms.