CHAPTER SEVEN #2
“Drake?” The uncertainty in her eyes leaves my blood roaring. I hate seeing her so unsure in my hold, but she has to learn this. Even about me. “You're scaring me.”
I know, princess.
“I could have written those letters. Hell,” I bark out a sharp laugh.
“I even tried, but the thought of hurting you made me sick.” I run my thumb along the inside of her wrist. “I understand why they’re obsessed with you, princess.
I get why the sasaeng wait hours for your show to end just for a glimpse. Being next to you…it’s intoxicating.”
Her breath puffs against my lips almost as fast and shallow as mine. Hell, I'm driving her to another panic attack. I don’t want that, but she has to know.
“Tell me it’s not you, Drake.” The command in her voice wars with something else. Something softer.
A plea.
We have trust. There’s…something…between us and she’s fucking begging me not to ruin that.
“And if it is?” I press my thumb over her pulse point.
“If it is me writing those hateful things about you, aching for you, needing you but wanting to hurt you, what then, princess?” I whisper.
“I brought you all the way out here, and we’re alone.
Because you’re right. Anyone could have written those letters. It could have been me.”
Cha Cha stops. The world pauses between us, around us. She leans forward, and her soft, sweet breath kisses my lips. “It’s not you.”
Her certainty devours me. “You don’t know that.”
The gentlest smile teases her lips and I ache for her, worse than ever. “I do, actually.” the hint of her sweet as hell, fuck you attitude is back, and I’m here for it.
“Tell me.”
“Aren’t you demanding?” She seems to delight in the tease, holding all the power, at least as she sees it. Or maybe that’s her safe zone, where I fall, for now.
“Plenty,” I murmur.
Cha Cha pouts when I don’t play her game. “You called me princess,” she says, as though that explains everything.
“Your safety net is my pet name for you?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Uh huh.” She giggles for me and fuck if I don’t pull her in a little closer.
“And if you’re wrong?” Her clothes are soft beneath my hands, the material thin.
“I’m not.”
“Alright, princess. Show me what you know.”
Cha Cha leans into me, and rests her lips against mine. Not in full contact; this is the barest ghost of a kiss, if it even is one. I release a groan as she leans back, triumph written across her eyes.
“You told me to earn it.” Her breath grazes my mouth.
I ache to taste her, but now is not the right time.
Heat from her blazes at me. “But also, I asked you not to call me Cha Cha then because it made me feel unsafe. Objectified. And even when you were pretending to be cruel and harsh, you did as I asked. You respected me.” She raises a shoulder.
“So. I get a goodnight kiss, right?” Her lips purse in a pretty pout.
I swear if she fucking giggles once more I’ll burst in my jeans.
“I pretended, huh?”
“Mhmm.” She sways a little, her thighs brushing mine.
I swallow hard. “Yeah, princess. You’ve earned that kiss. But later. It’s still morning, and we have a lot of training to do. You’re gonna be sore by tonight,” I promise her. She’s not the only one who’s going to earn something.
“Pity.” She turns to flounce away, but I haul her back.
“Last lesson. Breathing.”
Cha Cha rolls her eyes. “We did this already.”
Brat. I file that information away for later, too. Earlier, I wasn't sure about the source of her tantrums. I should be thanking her for providing me with the answer. Earned, indeed.
“Not like this, we didn’t." I position her between my legs so we’re thigh to thigh, and tip her chin up.
“Don’t look away. Breathe with me. Count.
I’ll breathe out soon, and I won’t take another breath in for a while.
It’s controlled breathing, and a shooter will call it hollow breath.
It’s used for hunting and rifle shooting.
Snipers use it too. But if you panic like before, and you need to take that shot, I think this might help. Okay?”
“Okay.” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, worrying it.
The note of uncertainty is back in her voice. I hate that I've put that there, but today is about a whole lot of firsts for my girl.
“Alright, let’s find a breathing rhythm that works.”
It takes a few tries, but we get there, matching out inhales and exhales. As a singer, Cha Cha can hold her breath for a whole lot longer than I can. I seek her pulse point on her wrist again, rubbing gently. Her breaths start to speed up again, taking my own heart rate with it.
“Easy,” I murmur, making a liar of myself as my own heart rate spikes at her proximity. I battle with my own need as I attempt to calm her. “Breathe in with me. Don’t look away. Out. Right here, princess. This is where we are, right now. In again. And out.”
We do it again, and again. Then, when she slows with me, her pulse rate sinking, that’s the last breath I take.
I let the air flow from my lungs, leaving me empty and hollow.
If I had to fire a weapon right now, my body holds no tension at all, and I’m far less likely to pull the shot.
That was my intention with showing Cha Cha.
But instead, I find myself lost in honey dark eyes, seeking golden flecks in their depths.
She stands a breath away, if that. My hand rises to cup the back of her neck, drawing her closer.
Her forehead bumps mine, and our skin touches, resting together.
Our body warmth melds, her eyelids growing heavy.
Drake,” she whispers.
I release her and lean back, inhaling sharply through my nose. “You did good, princess,” I mutter, attempting to offer her the praise she needs.
Cha Cha gazes at me like I’m her fucking idol while I’m furious with myself for not letting her get a day of training in before I fuck around with her. What the hell is the point of making a promise to myself—to her—if I can’t keep it in my pants long enough to complete the job I was hired to do?
But let’s be fair: I exceeded my contract the moment she stepped into my arms this morning. When I fed her breakfast and explained how her stalker’s mind works.
When I watched her for two solid weeks without break, learning everything I could about Cha Cha Min, the moment I took the job, before I was on the payroll.
When I developed my own little celebrity crush that’s becoming so much more so damn fast. I’m snowballing into a land of heartache, while she’s after a fling to ease the loneliness of her existence.
The only question is how fast I’ll solve her stalker problem, and how quickly my celebrity crush will shatter this old grunt’s heart.