Page 85 of Forgotten Prejudice

“D-Don’t stop,” I nearly cried when he pulled back for some air.

Biting his lip, he stifled a groan and shook his head. “You’re driving me nuts,” he admitted, grabbing the back of my head and pulling me into a much more aggressive kiss.

My lips, chin, jaw, and neck—Kai put his lips anywhere he could reach while his fingers dug into my flesh. Painfully. Possessively. Like a thief holding on to his stolen goods, Kai kept me close, the two of us fully aware that I wasn’t his to hold this way. Not yet, anyway.

“W-Wait,” I panted, and he took the opportunity to push his tongue into my open mouth and massage it against mine. It was hot and messy, and my cock took notice, growing harder and harder with each passing second until it rubbed against Kai’s thigh.

Without saying a word, Kai slipped his hand between us and grabbed me over my boxer briefs. I moaned at the relief and buried my face in the crook of his neck as he began stroking me.

The waves splashed against my back, so I held tighter on to Kai, who increased his pace. The water didn’t at all ease the friction, and the salt stung in a way, but with my growing need to come, I focused on the pleasure of his hand.

“K-Kai,” I gasped, my eyes closed.

He didn’t answer and, instead, gripped my neck and turned my head up to take over my mouth again, controlling my every move. My heart hammered fast inside my rib cage, and I could feel my whole body tensing a moment before I climaxed and came into his palm. The water quickly washed away my release, almost like it had never happened, and replaced the steaming heat with shivering cold. If only the waves could have carried with them the guilt that struck me the moment the adrenaline crashed.

“Ash?” Kai asked while trying to contain his heavy breaths.

He sounded nervous, worried, but I blocked it away.

Slightly pushing him away from me, I avoided his gaze. “Let’s go home,” I said, already starting to move back in the direction of the shore.

I hated that I couldn’t control my emotions or that I turned my anger on him. But it was stronger than me. What if Soren knew what I’d just done? Why did I even care? He dumped me, right?

I was out of the water when Kai reached for my arm.

“Ash, wait.” He turned me around to face him, but I shrugged him off.

“It’s fine, seriously.” I bent down to pick my shirt off the sand. “I’m just tired.”

I didn’t say another word, and Kai didn’t push, which I was grateful for. When we reached home, I immediately went upstairs and got into my room. Alone. Tonight, I couldn’t bring myself to seek comfort in Kai’s warm embrace. Not after what we’d just done.

Ash

“Oh, you’re finally home,” I told Soren as he walked through the door, relief washing over me at the sight of him. He was supposed to be back a few hours ago. It wasn’t unusual for him to get home late, but he usually called to let me know. What’s more, he seemed stressed, more than usual, with beads of sweat covering his forehead. Even his shirt was dampened with sweat stains, almost like he’d run his way back home.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he answered, simply and shortly.

“Let me take that for you,” I told him, reaching to grab his suit jacket, but he ignored my offer and went straight to our room.

His odd behavior stung, and my stomach flipped at being dismissed, but I swallowed hard and followed him to our room.

“I tried cooking tonight,” I said, hoping it would break this weird atmosphere Soren had brought back home with him. Ever since we came back from Greece last month, he’d been in a bad mood. So, I tried cheering him up in all sorts of ways, and one of them was trying to cook. I knew one home-cooked meal wouldn’t do the trick, but it was just one of many ideas I had in mind.

“Do you want to eat first? Or would you rather take a shower?” I asked, hoping his response would contain more than a single word. To my disappointment, he didn’t even bother to answer before walking straight to the shower and locking the door behind him. My heart sank, but I forced myself to stay positive. After almost eight years together, I knew Soren sometimes faced hardships. In addition to his OCD, he had a long history of depression, which he often handled quite well. He sometimes shut me out, like he did just now, and it disappointed me. Yet, understanding it was his choice whether to share or not, I went back to the kitchen to finish dinner.

After picking his favorite plates and cutlery, I set the table so it would be exactly as he liked before opening his favorite bottle of wine. I even lit candles to set the mood. It was the small details that mattered to Soren, from the bergamot orange scent of the candles to the gray cashmere shirt I wore; everything affected him, and when things were out of order, it burdened his life. Yes, it might sound crazy for an outsider, but not to me. I knew him. I’d lived with him for years and saw the person underneath the rituals and strict rules. More importantly, I loved him. I loved him more than I could ever put into words and was willing to put up with anything he’d thrown at me. And despite what some would say, such as my mom or my uncle, Soren wasn’t selfish. He was a kind man who loved me deeply.

Thirty minutes later, we sat on opposite sides of our long dining table that we only ever used when we had guests over. Since I wanted this dinner to be special, tonight was an exception.

“How does it taste?” I asked, eager to get some feedback from him.

With his eyes pinned on the plate, Soren didn’t bother to look away from his steak as he cut another piece. He slowly brought it to his mouth and then forced himself to chew before swallowing it with wine.

“Is it that bad?” I chuckled, nerves nipping my gut. “I guess I’m just not meant to be in the kitchen.” I smiled awkwardly, then took a long gulp from my drink.

We sank into another dragging silence. Soren looked in a completely different place, and it worried me. He’d even missed one button on his shirt and ignored the drop of wine he spilled while pouring his second glass.