Chapter 45: A lot of fun

The tip of her finger still carried the sweetness of peach syrup.

His Adam’s apple rolled once, hard.

Just as he was about to speak, her finger slid from his lips down to his chest. She began groping along the inner pocket of his combat uniform, mumbling,

"Boss, this spot is all puffy... what good thing are you hiding? Can I have some?"

Ray looked down at the small hand roaming across his chest. His breathing completely lost its rhythm.

The pocket she was touching held the last piece of mango candy he had quietly taken from the supermarket earlier that day.

He had been saving it for her.

He closed his eyes for a second.

Outside, footsteps started up again—pacing back and forth in front of the storage-room door. At least three people were hovering out there; none of them had actually left.

Ray dragged in a long breath, pulled her hand away from his chest, and firmly pressed it back onto her own knee.

"Sleep."

"Don’t wanna."

May tipped backward and collapsed onto the mat, sprawling in every direction. Her voice turned soft and sticky. "Boss, stay and talk to me... you ignored me the whole night... don’t you like me anymore?"

Outside the storage room, three shadows stopped moving at the exact same instant.

The door to the warehouse side room wasn’t soundproof.

Outside, the rough men had only drunk a little cheap liquor before launching into shameless bragging contests, competing over who could piss the farthest.

"I’m telling you—back in university I could shoot a stream straight over three walls!"

Mitch’s voice was the loudest, full of unrestrained arrogance.

"Tch, dude, keep blowing. With those kidneys of yours—almost ruined by Jackr’s kick earlier—you’d be lucky to clear a meter."

Alex’s laugh dripped with pure tea-spilling malice. "I say if you can even hit two meters out, you win."

"You little bastard don’t know shit! I was going easy on Jack!"

Mitch cursed nonstop. "Jack, settle this for me—wasn’t I a total legend back then?"

Jack’s stammering voice floated through. "Mitch was pretty impressive. But... I think I still pissed farther than you just now."

These guys together were a pure disaster.

Ray sat on the moisture-proof mat, back against the cold concrete wall. His combat knife rested across his knees; rough fingertips held a scrap of cloth, wiping the blade in steady, measured strokes.

The soft scrape of metal against cloth rang unusually clear in the dim side room.

Those deep eyes weren’t on the knife or the door. They were locked on the sleeping bag at the other end of the mat.

After he had tossed May inside, she had stayed quiet for less than two minutes.

The full after-effect of the red wine was hitting her now.

The sleeping bag was already stuffy, and the heat still burning inside her refused to settle. She began twisting restlessly inside it.

"Hot..."

She mumbled, brows furrowed, legs kicking and alternating inside the bag.

Riiip—

The zipper tore open halfway under her force.

Ray’s wiping hand froze.

The oversized black T-shirt rode up with every movement until it bunched at her chest, exposing a long stretch of snow-white waist. The cold warehouse light hit that skin and made it almost blinding.

She still wasn’t satisfied. She squirmed deeper into the bag; the hem rolled even higher, revealing—

Ray’s throat went dry.

He snapped his head toward the corner web of spider silk, forcing himself to stare at it. The vein at his temple pulsed hard.

This girl is going to be the death of me.]

He lifted the combat knife and dragged the blade across his pant leg twice, trying to ground himself with the rough friction.

Outside, the bragging continued.

"I’m telling you—back on the border, an entire company of female soldiers lined up to give me love letters! I didn’t even take them!"

"Please, Mitch. They just wanted you to help move bricks."

"Pretty-boy, you looking to get cut?"

Ray clenched his teeth in irritation and muttered under his breath, "Bunch of idiots."

May rolled onto her side. Her cheek pressed against the mat. Eyes half-lidded and watery, she stared at the broad line of Ray’s back.

"Boss..."

Her voice was soft and sticky, still carrying the nasal tone of someone just waking up.

He didn’t turn. The cloth scraped harder across the blade. "Shut up. Sleep."

"I can’t sleep."

She used both hands and feet, inching out of the sleeping bag like a caterpillar, slowly crawling toward him.

Ray heard the movement behind him. Every muscle locked tight. He still didn’t turn, spine ramrod straight, back facing her.

"Boss, are you mad?"

She reached his back and poked two fingers into the hard muscle there.

His body stiffened. His voice dropped low. "Not mad. Close your eyes."

"You’re lying."

May pouted, then simply rested her chin on his shoulder. A mix of yellow-peach syrup and red-wine sweetness drifted straight into his nose.

"You’ve been ignoring me since earlier. When I pinched Theo’s stomach, your eyes looked ready to shoot fire."

Ray’s hand jerked. He nearly dropped the knife.

His chest rose and fell hard once. He spun around and clamped a hand over the fingers still poking his shoulder.

"You’re drunk. Your head’s not clear. Get back over there and lie down."

She didn’t struggle. Instead, she let her whole body tip forward, soft and boneless, and crashed straight into his chest.

Instinct made him catch her. Both hands landed squarely on her waist.

The skin under his palms was smooth, warm, impossibly soft.

He flinched as if burned. His fingers curled, wanting to let go—yet afraid she would simply fall to the floor.

"Your hands are so big."

May looked down hazily at the waist he was holding and suddenly grinned, flashing a small tiger tooth. "Just now I touched Mitch’s head, pinched Theo’s stomach, and yanked little Alex’s collar."

Ray’s face went completely black.

"You sure had a lot of fun."

He forced the words out between clenched teeth. The hands on her waist tightened another fraction without conscious thought. "What, still not satisfied?"

"Nope."

She tipped her head up. Those unfocused, watery eyes locked onto him with pure, straightforward innocence. "I still haven’t touched you yet."

His breathing fractured on the spot.

"None of them would let me touch... it."