Prince Caspian -Jung Yoonoh NCT

42. The Dream

He sprawls indolently against the sofa, and watches me beneath lazy, heavy-lidded eyes.

"Do you want me to stay?"

Silence. 

The world stops. 

The wind stills, waiting with waited breath for my answer.

Yes.

Don't go.

Stay.

Did I say those words aloud?

Because he has stiffened, and the teasing look dies away in his eyes.

He sits there staring at me with chiselled features and dark, dark eyes. He is staring at me like he wants something.

And I know, as I did in the elevator, the something he wants is me.

He pushes himself off the sofa. He takes a step towards me. But this time I do not back away. I stand still, and wait for him to come to me.

My heartbeat has accelerated. Soon I may have to call the paramedics.

Another step, and he is in my space.

I have a sudden desire to laugh. It knocks me over like an ocean wave, and I feel it bubbling, rising in me. Nervous, hysterical laughter. But then his gaze flicks to my lips and I don't feel like laughing anymore. He bends low and my stomach flips. His body is pressed against mine and his heart is thumping.

"I asked you a question," he says huskily.

 "No. Yes. I don't know." Is that breathy whisper my voice?

He looms over me as he raises a hand to my throat. His finger brushes across my collarbone.

I squeeze my eyes closed, and his lips press against mine. 

My hands wrap around the collar of his suit jacket and tug him hard against me.

Can you kill someone with a kiss? Because that's what he's doing - slaying me with his mouth. I am dying. Soon I will be dead. He leans in and I grab him and deepen the kiss.

He lets out a husky groan and hauls me against the wall. I am pinned by his hips and I am vaguely aware that either the floor has disappeared from under my feet, or I have been lifted off of it. It is the elevator kiss all over again; my feet are swinging crazily in hot air. He pulls back for a second, dragging in a jagged breath, and I jump on him, bringing his mouth back to me.

He drags his hand through my hair, and his fingers twine in the loose strands. His hand wraps around the base of my neck. I shiver and he tightens his hold. 

"Stay. I want you to stay. Don't go." I say it out loud this time.

"Are you sure?" His eyes are heated pools of blackness. He is breathing hard. His face is flushed.

I nod. I have never been more sure of anything in my life, and he leans in to kiss me again.

And then his phone rings.

I collapse back onto the floor in a pool of desire and useless limbs.

"Hello." He is answering the phone. His voice is very calm and steady. A second ago it had been hoarse with passion. I wonder how he does it, when I am a quivering bundle of boneless flesh. His arm is still around my waist. I stare down at his muscled forearm in a daze, as he listens attentively, and barks instructions. He has snapped back to Mark Jung, cold and efficent CEO, with the first ring of the phone. 

"Okay, I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

He ends the call, and slips the phone back into his pants pocket.

Gently, he brushes my hair off my face, and steps back.

"That was an overseas call," he says, and he looks rueful. "I'm afraid I've to deal with something rather urgent right now." He kisses me on the forehead. "But maybe it's a good thing that call came..." He tilts my face with cool fingers, he is not flustered, unlike me. "I'm moving too fast for you, sweet Yiseul. You have that effect on me, I'm not sure why, but I tend to act in the oddest ways around you..." I look at his eyes; there is a smouldering heat there, a flickering ember. He is not quite as calm, or as unaffected as I had thought, after all, and I feel my heart lift.

"Okay. Sure. Of course." I mumble. My legs are shaky. "I'm going to shower, then sleep. I've to be up early tomorrow. Work, reports, lots of stuff to do, filing, copying..." I am babbling, and he smiles indulgently. 

"Don't go in early. Take the morning off."

"I - I can't possibly," I squeak. "I'm an intern - "

"I insist." His voice is cool and firm. "Leave it to me. Take the morning off. It's an order."

"Okay." It'd be nice to sleep in, though my head is so full of him I doubt I'll be able to get any sleep tonight.

"Good night, darling." He kisses me lightly on the lips. "Sweet dreams, and I'll see you tomorrow."

I double-lock the door as he watches from the other side. And then he is gone, a long dark shadow pulling away into emptiness in the space beneath the door.

I sleep fitfully. He is in my dream. He is braced over me. 

You want me desperately, his voice is a hot whisper in my ear.

I twist my head, and see his hand braced by my head, his sleeve is rolled up, I can see an inch of wrist, smooth skin, veins and tendons. His shirt is open, it glows icy blue in the darkness. 

I can't see his face. I roll over, but the more I roll, the more I get twisted up in the white sheets. 

He is pressing me down. Hips and hands. I am tangled up in him.

All you have to do is ask, Dream Jae whispers in the dark, his mouth blazing hot against my skin.

I feel his hands sliding along my body, lingering on every inch, peeling me layer by layer. I am a beef lasagna. I am being eaten alive. 

His blazing smile tips me over the edge. I tremble awake. My face is burning red. 

It is morning. Drowsy sunshine is squeezing in at the sides of the curtains.

It is 9.00 am., and I have to go to work in another four hours.

I have four hours to repress this memory.