The Summer Sting

11. Too Deep an Ocean to Cross

And now it's hard to breathe
I'm not in love, it's just a thing we make
We're skin on skin, I need this spell to break
But I don't wanna go and I know that you know

For Se-ri, the next week passed in a sweet procession of sunny days and sensual nights.

Between family gatherings, events and work calls, she and Ri Jeong-hyeok still managed to sneak off every day and explore obscure beautiful beaches and less glitzy parts of the city. She'd never seen the coast like this before. It was charming and quaint, and being around him was fun in a way that was entirely new and captivating.

Jeong-hyeok was a tactile man, and she was the undisputed subject of his fascination. Whether they roamed the streets and tucked into little restaurants or stretched out on pristine shores, he found ways to touch her. His hands became as familiar to her as her own. He threaded his fingers through hers. He brushed pieces of her hair away as she ate. He rubbed sun lotion over her body with great attention to evenly covering every dip and swell. And Se-ri found it increasingly hard to keep her hands to herself. She, too, indulged in the freedom of their anonymity, stealing kisses under the sunshine for all the world to see, slipping into his arms when the sky was a particularly beautiful shade of magenta.

The physical intimacy was addictive, and it became almost natural to share their innermost thoughts and fears in those quiet moments between bursts of reality. He was easy to talk to – unjudgmental, kind, attentive – and he had a dry sense of humor that took the edge off her more jarring confessions.

"My parents weren't very affectionate with any of us. I mean umma had moments when she would give one of my brothers a hug, a pat on the shoulder, even the occasional forehead kiss," she recalled, hands resting lightly on the promenade's railing as she stared out at the lulling drag of the sea. "I didn't get any of that. Well, not from them anyway..." she trailed off when she felt him envelop her in his arms, reminiscent of that day in the garden, the broad expanse of his chest pressed to her back like a shell. "What are you doing?"

"Hmm," he hummed in her ear, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver down her spine. "You ask me that a lot. Weird," he murmured, a hint of amusement coloring his voice as he brushed a soft, barely-there kiss to her cheek. "You don't seem slow." He chuckled when he felt her elbow lightly jab into his ribs. "Right now, I'm hugging you, Se-ri," he breathed, husky and wanting, and his arms were tight around her body. "I want you to lean back against me," he instructed. "And try really hard to act like you aren't overanalyzing this and silently planning your escape route," he teased.

Their excursions often involved food. Jeong-hyeok loved exploring the local cuisine, and he had remarkably discerning taste buds. They sampled everything they came across from gazpachos to different grades of Iberian ham to espetos. He described flavors with painstaking detail. Some things had a touch of umami. Others were fruity or bitter with a slight sting. Most things were fresh.

"So, what's the verdict on Ama Lucía's paella?"

"The best one so far," he said and made a show of slowly savoring a bite of the squid ink paella they'd ordered at the hole-in-the-wall eatery in Old Town. "The broth is just right, so balanced."

"Tell me the truth, Jeong-hyeok-ssi, are you a lawyer or a chef?" she teased, quirking an eyebrow at him.

He looked a little stunned, speechless for a moment, but then he flashed a small smile at her and whatever had thrown him off seemed to have settled. "I love to cook," he admitted. "I don't get to do much of it anymore. I'm always on the move."

Se-ri scrunched her nose. "I'm hopeless in the kitchen, but I love to eat."

Jeong-hyeok laughed, and the warm sound of it washed into her body like a wave. "I'll cook for you someday," he said, tried to sound light and casual, but Se-ri saw something wistful – almost sad – in his dark eyes.