29. CHAPTER 29
T he snow came, and it’s refusing to leave. It’s that vicious, imposing kind of relentless white that doesn’t seem to possess any intention of stopping.
It’s been days, but exactly how many, I don’t think I could tell you because they’ve all blurred into one. There’s no day or night. Hungry or full. There’s only being beside Eden, or feeling like part of my body is missing.
“Were you reading Danielle Steele?”
I look up from the latest book I’ve been reading and to my left where Eden is crouching in front of the bookshelf he made me. “Yeah. And maybe you should, too.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I smirk, "Oh, nothing,” then go straight back to a serious face like I’m really concentrating on the words in front of me.
Eden stands abruptly. “Listen here—”
“I will when you’ve got something good to say.”
Somewhat surprised, but also expecting a reaction, my sights follow the book as it’s swatted out of my hands and onto the adjacent side of the sofa. Standing myself, I attempt to retrieve it, but I’m pushed back onto the cushions just like I knew I would be.
“Stop ignoring me.”
From my position—pinned beneath him—I look at Eden with the most innocent expression I can. “I’m not.”
“Then tell me what you were talking about.”
“Hmmm.” I pretend to think. “It was nothing.”
He leans right down and talks so close I can feel his lips moving against mine. “I know you’re doing this on purpose.”
“But isn't that what you want?”
“No.”
I link my hands behind his neck. “I think it is.”
“Ah. Fuck you, you little prick,” he growls and kisses me. “You know I don’t actually care.”
“I just thought you could have gotten some tips, is all. Mom porn might give you some fresh new ideas.”
“You’re lucky I like you so much, or I’d throw you outside.”
“You sure you don’t want to? I’d enjoy the change in scenery.”
“Is that so?”
“Well, I’ve had nothing but you to look at for days. So a complete 360 degree whitewash would be a welcome change.”
The look on his face is priceless. And when he tries to stand up, I wrap my legs tightly around his waist, which sends him tumbling to the rug with me landing on top of him.
“I guess I win again,” I say, tapping him smugly on the cheek.
“Only because I let you.”
Lying down stomach first on top of him, I stack my hands in the middle of his chest and rest my chin on them. “A win is still a win.”
“And getting you on top of me is still getting you on top of me.”
“Don’t you dare try to claim that this was your plan all along.”
“Why not?” he asks, dragging his hand up from my lower back to between my shoulders.
“Because you’re not that smart.”
He does a little shrug, and says, "You’re right,” then pulls my body further up on his so he can kiss me again.
I love these sweet, gentle make out sessions.
I love feeling his body against mine, and knowing that—after the almost fifteen years more experience he has than I do—that he can still get enough out of such innocence. But if our time together has taught me anything, it’s that Eden van der Hart exists in two starkly different forms.
There’s the kind, thoughtful, but distant man who holds my heart in his hands.
And the attentive but menacing, sexually fuelled demon that owns my body.
And as for my mind… It’s somewhere in between, always trying to place meaning because we are a ballad of extremes.
When our dicks are hard, we’re poetry in motion, but when push comes to shove, it seems like all we do is push and shove.
Neither of us is willing to budge on what we want from the other.
And because we still struggle to talk, we work out our frustrations with our bodies until we’re so spent we’ve forgotten what we were angry about in the first place…
With both my hands on the rug on either side of his head, I raise myself up. “I wanna make a cake.”
“No.”
“Yes.” I do a push up, and peck his lips. “Please.”
“There’s no ingredients.”
“There’s flour.”
“It’s bread flour.”
“There’s pancake mix.”
“Jin—”
“And coffee. And chocolate. And maple syrup.”
“And what if it tastes like shit?”
“But what if it tastes amazing?”
“But what if it tastes like shit?”
“Then I promise to eat it all. I’ll force it down. Eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, until it’s gone.”
“That’s all you’ll be eating.”
“Fine… What if I make carrot cake?”
“Why don’t you stick to chocolate first?”
“Can I have the hazelnut block? I wanna chop it up so there are crunchy bits inside, too.”
“And what do I get out of it?”
“The pleasure of seeing me happy.”
“Doesn’t seem like a fair exchange.”
In one movement, I’m squatting with my legs on either side of Eden’s waist. “I’m not gonna suck your dick for it.”
“Why? Cause you already do it for free?”
“Exactly.” I give a toothy grin, and jump off him completely. “Now get the chocolate.”
“I’m not sure I appreciate you being so demanding.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s true.”
I roll my eyes because who is he kidding.
Grabbing the top of the closest dining chair to the kitchen, I drag it behind me.
Once I’ve opened the pantry and put the chair in place, I turn back to Eden with my hands clasped in front of my chest. “Oh please, most wonderful, kind and caring man who has let me stay with him. Would you please do me the tremendous favor of allowing me to use one of your most prized chocolates?”
Standing at the bottom of the stairs with his arms crossed, Eden stares at me with a less than enthused expression, and my heart sinks.
“What's wrong?”
“I want you to stop expecting me to ask how high every time you tell me to jump.”
I'm down from the chair in a heartbeat and wrapping my arms around his waist only a second later. “I don’t expect you to do everything for me.”
“You’ve developed a pretty strong assumption that I’ll give in to you every time.”
My eyebrows knit together. “Is this… Um… Do you want us to have a fight?”
“I want you to quit exploiting how much I wanna keep you happy.”
“You’re the one who said—” I stop myself and take a step back. “I'm sorry. I've clearly read this whole thing wrong. You tell me all the time that you like it when I'm a brat, so I was just playing it up.”
“I'm serious, Jin. I give in to you—”
I breathe in a playful gasp. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.
We tease each other. You pick on me all the time just to get a reaction.
And you are definitely not the one who always gives in.
I gave into you three nights ago—and every night since.
I’ve gotten so little sleep I struggle not to fall asleep every time I sit on the sofa. ”
He holds onto a smug, tight-lipped grin for far longer than he needs to. “You don’t complain when it’s happening.”
“Because there’s nothing to complain about." I place my hand on his chest. "I love our time together.”
“Me too.”
I start circling my finger. “But you’re still denying me. And it’s getting embarrassing.”
“I remember everything you’ve ever said to me. And it’s coming, I promise. But I won’t let it be like my first time.”
“But we both want it.”
“And I wanna give it to you exactly how you’ve asked.”
I bop him on the chin with my finger. "You’re not making any sense.”
“I'm sick of talking about this.” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair as he turns away from me. “You bring this shit up every few days, and… fuck. I’m falling hard as a fucking rock for you, Jintae, so our first time is gonna be as fucking memorable as I wanna make it. And I don’t wanna hear another thing about it.
At all. No more. You’re nineteen, so it’s my responsibility to make sure you’re ready, not yours.
Because no matter how much you think you know about the world, you don’t know shit.
People can talk all they fucking want, but I need to know.
” He pounds his hand against his chest. “ I need to know that I treated you right.”
I step closer, then smooth his hair back off his face. “And I know that you have. But—"
With a swift, deep, frustrated intake of breath through his nose, Eden grabs me, carries me to the pantry, and puts me down.
Then, before I have a chance to say anything else, he clamps his hand over my mouth.
“Not. Another. Word. At all… This isn’t one of those I do actually want you to be a brat situations.
It’s been ‘no’ for weeks, and it’ll be 'no' for as long as it needs to be.”
After he releases me and walks away, I collapse back into the dining chair and stare blankly ahead of me.
It's true. I've been asking for weeks and he always denies me. But this time…
Fuck.
I feel like a naughty kid.
Is it guilt?
Or is it something more?
Something much, much more.
My god, why do I feel so excited, like I’m tingling all over?
This is definitely not guilt.
Smiling like a damn clown, I clamber up onto the chair and start rummaging around the shelf. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I need to busy my hands or the giant smile on my face will work its way through my entire body, and I’ll run to him and shout the fact that I love him too.
This wasn’t part of my plan. Though, to be honest, it’s no secret that it was poorly thought out from the start. But Eden— oh my god— he’s been skirting around ‘why not’ for so long I was starting to think it was some screwed up form of cruel and unusual punishment.
“Will you settle for dark chocolate almond because you pissed me off?”
My smile is so wide and my teeth are so tightly clamped together that it takes me a few seconds to compose myself before answering. “Yes, thank you. I’ll take anything.”
“I’ll give you chocolate orange.”
“Can I have the almond if I say sorry?” I giggle to myself, knowing he was only joking.
Spotting a small glass jar of ground cinnamon, I drag it towards me. It’s expired by several years.
“Do spices actually expire?” I call out, only to have Eden wrap his arm around my stomach from behind.
“Does salt and pepper expire?”
“Um… No. Not really.”
“So there’s your answer.”
I nod to myself, then—with the cinnamon in one hand—I gather the granulated sugar, instant coffee, pancake mix, maple syrup, and brown sugar from the lower shelves.
“I need to get down.”
Eden wraps his other arm around me.
I wiggle my hips. “You’re the worst.”
“You’re the best.”
My heart is beating so fast I feel like a runaway train speeding out of control.
I think I might be shaking, and I know I’m thankful that my back is still to Eden. “Could you carry me to the counter so I can put this all down?”
“Do I get to keep holding you?”
"Of course."
With everything that had been in my arms on the counter beside the chopping board, Eden leans over me and plants his hands on the wood; trapping me in the most enticing prison.
“Could you please get me some butter?”
He runs his nose along the crook of my neck until he’s whispering in my ear. “What else do you need?”
“U–um,” I stutter, and grab onto the pancake mix with both hands to stop from melting. “A bowl. Your bread pan. A spoon. A knife.” The sound of him breathing is like a jet engine in my ear. “S…some hot water. A… Um…”
“Is there anything else?”
“Probably, but I can’t think of them right now.”
“You’re so cute.”
“No I’m not.”
“Well, whatever you’re doing right now is cute.”
“I’m just excited.”
“About cooking?”
“Yes… It’s… very exciting.”
“So is Gran Turismo.”
“I can’t eat Gran Turismo.”
“You can eat me while I play Gran Turismo.”
Well, I walked right into that one. “I’d rather eat you while you watch lesbian porn, and you know how I feel about that.”
“So two guys are okay, but two girls…?”
I know he’s stirring me again just as much as he knows I’m gonna take the bait. “You know I don’t give a crap about what you watch on your own. But when I’m there, I should be able to enjoy it, too.”
“You enjoyed it the first time round. You were more than happy to just look at me, then,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
I know he said he didn't want me to act like a brat, but that was five minutes ago. And everything he's doing now is telling me to forget everything he said. So I duck out from under his arm and march to the other side of the kitchen. “You know what?” I ask, snatching at the bread pan. “I’m not giving you any of this when it’s done. So fuck you if it tastes delicious.”
“You’re too much,” Eden chuckles, scooping me up in his arms again—and my happy, wide smile is instantly back on my face.
“Put me down.”
“You’re cute, Jin."
"No I'm not."
"You are. And this is a hill I’m willing to die on.”