34: If I Stayed

If I Stayed

"Bai Ye!" I yelped as I thrashed my soaked arms in the bath. "You could've let me take my clothes off first!"1

"Oh, of course I cannot. I'd like the honor to do it for you instead."

By now, he had gotten so used to the routine that it only took him seconds to undo all my ribbons. His hands glided under my clothes like a pair of nimble fish, freeing me from the drenched fabric and replacing the texture against my skin with his soft caress.

The sensation was soothing, familiar. I swear this wasn't what I had in mind when I asked him to bathe with me—I had only wanted him to stay, to not leave me by myself again so soon—but his touch made me realize how much I missed this. Probably just as much as I missed everything else about him.

"I'm glad you are back, Qing-er." He pecked my lips and shed his own layers next, letting the soaked garments sink to the bottom of the tub.

There was an unmistakable longing in his voice. Through the thin veil of mist and steam, I could see that his gaze was more intense than usual, as if he was studying me carefully, trying to match every bit of my features to his memories and make sure that it really was me.

He missed me as well, I realized.

"Bai Ye …" I touched my fingers to his face, leaving a glistening track across his cheek. "I'm glad you came for me. I could've never guessed that hunter was you."

He smiled and repositioned himself next to me, leaning me against his arm. The water splashed a little. "Is my disguise that ugly?"

It wasn't. Although his disguise bore absolutely no resemblance to himself, the hunter was handsome in a different way, with the look and air of a strong, fearless warrior. But who could ever match Bai Ye when it came to appearances? I gazed up at him. His damp skin sheened in the lambent light, and his hair poured over us into the bath, floating about the lotus petals like a painting drawn with the blackest ink. His eyes caught the candle flames like the brightest stars shining in the midnight sky.

He looked like a dream.

I leaned in and kissed him, slowly measuring the curves of his lips with my tongue and locking it into my memory. "No," I whispered, "but it wasn't you."

He laughed softly. Then he reached for the bath cloth and ran it along my neck and shoulders, slowly and carefully. The water swayed with his motion, and the petals stirred, tickling my skin like a thousand tiny fingers.

"At the cabin," I breathed in deeply and continued, "I wished so much that you could stay."

"And if I did?" he asked and turned me over on my back, resting my face against his chest. The cloth moved down and massaged my hips, my bottom, before grazing over my legs and between my thighs.

Heat rose and pervaded me, and I couldn't tell if it was from the water, the steam, or his touch. I buried my face into him. Even after all these times that we shared a bed together, I still couldn't help but feel my cheeks burn at intimate gestures like this, and my heart raced.

"What would you have done if I did stay?" He asked again, turning me back, and the cloth slid onto my chest. My breaths quickened as I anticipated his touch, but he avoided my most sensitive places, only rubbing along my stomach, my belly, and my waist.

Unmet yearnings throbbed inside me, and I wiggled in his arms. "Bai Ye …" I panted and threaded my fingers through his damp hair falling over my shoulders, pulling slightly.

What would I have done if he did stay? I didn't know. I could've told him how much I missed him and loved him, but could I ever bring myself to ask for more? Just like right now, could I make myself say the words … to ask for his touch, to plead for pleasure?

"Or … what would you like me to do for you instead, Qing-er?"

He dropped the bath cloth and plucked a petal from the surface of the water, running its velvety flesh down my curves. I gasped. The unfamiliar softness was utterly different from the bath cloth or his touch, and it spread sharp tingles throughout my body like a shock. I squirmed even more.

He steadied me with a kiss, but his hand didn't stop. The petal glided over my breast as if to answer to my yearnings, its tip brushing back and forth over my nipple.

I whimpered into his mouth. The sharp sensation sent tiny tremors all across my limbs, and instead of satisfying my longings, it only made me want more. The throbbing inside me intensified like a blazing fire. A candle crackled behind us, and I felt the flame burning me away.

What would I have liked him to do? Same as what I wanted him to do now—stop tormenting my senses and give it to me. Savor me. Ravish me. Revel in me.

I started at the answer. Since when did such wicked thoughts start growing in my mind?

"Bai Ye …" I moaned, too ashamed to acknowledge my realization. But my body gave it away as I wiggled closer and closer to him, pressing myself in and crushing the petals floating between us, seeking his lips hungrily, yearningly.

He chuckled, and with a sudden splash of water and flowers, he was on top of me. "I can tell you what I would like to do, Qing-er," he whispered into my lips, his hardness nestled between my thighs. "On the summit of that hill overlooking the valley, when the first light of the day breaks through the horizon, I want to do this with you."

He leaned in and gave me what I wordlessly asked for.

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