Chapter 468 | This is Hostage Work

Chapter 468: 468 | This is Hostage Work

"So she’s excited."

"She’s terrified for me, and she’d rather die than type that."

Chloe set the spoon down. She stood still at the stove, and her shoulders were up around her ears again. The Friday debut sat on the calendar twenty-six hours out, and Jordan could see the whole number living in her neck.

He got up and walked behind her. He did not ask. He put both palms flat on her shoulders, and the skill woke up in his hands before he could think about it.

Heat poured out of him into her. Under his thumbs her traps felt like coiled cable, and lower, under her ribs, a tight band ran around her middle. Her diaphragm. She had been breathing high and shallow all day, like someone bracing for a hit.

"Oh, you jerk, I’m cooking, you can’t do that while I’m cooking."

"I’m helping you cook. This is sous chef work."

"This is hostage work. Mmmh, oh, okay, right there, ahh, don’t you dare stop."

Her head dropped forward. The spoon clattered against the pot rim. Kumiko made a strangled squeak from the couch and hid her face in the notebook, though Jordan noticed she kept one eye open above the pages.

He slid one hand around to the front of her, under his own shirt, and flattened it below her ribs. Her skin was warm, and her stomach jumped under his palm. He pressed in a slow circle, and the band under her ribs gave like a knot coming loose in wet rope.

Chloe sucked in a breath so deep her whole back expanded against his chest. It came out of her as a long shaky moan that she tried to swallow halfway through and failed.

"Haaah, oh my god, I can breathe, I can actually breathe, what did you just do to me?"

"Karina said you hold tension in your diaphragm. I’m doing vocal coaching now."

"You’re doing a crime. Hnnn, Jordan, my knees, I’m going to drop the soup."

He reached past her and turned the burner off with his free hand. The pot ticked as it cooled. Chloe sagged back into him, and he held her up with the hand on her stomach while his other thumb worked the base of her skull.

Kumiko’s voice drifted over from the couch, thin and a little wobbly.

"Chloe-chan, you sound like you’re in a Ghibli movie about a really happy forest spirit."

"Shut up, Kumi, I’m being fixed."

"I called next on page thirty-four, just so everyone knows. I wrote it this morning, so it’s legally binding."

Jordan laughed into Chloe’s hair. She smelled of sesame and his shampoo, and she turned her head to bite his jaw, hard enough to sting. Then she twisted in his arms and pulled him down by the collar.

Her kiss tasted of gochugaru and the ginger candy she kept chewing for the nausea. It started slow and got mean fast. Her fingers dug into the back of his neck, and she walked him backward until his calves hit the couch.

He fell onto the cushions with a whump. Chloe climbed into his lap without breaking the kiss, his boxers riding up her thighs. Kumiko yelped and scooted to the far end, clutching the notebook, cheeks gone the color of her ribbons.

"Should I go to 403? I can go to 403. I can sew, I have patchwork, I have so much patchwork."

Chloe pulled back from Jordan’s mouth. Her glasses had gone crooked, and her lips were red and swollen. She looked at Kumiko over her shoulder, and her voice came out flat and certain.

"Stay. You’re next, you said so, and I don’t break contracts."

Kumiko’s mouth fell open. Then she set the notebook down very carefully on the coffee table, squared it to the edge, and scooted back toward them on her knees.

Jordan’s brain blue-screened for a full second. He was eighteen years old, and two girls were deciding the order of operations on his lap like it was a group project. Six weeks ago his biggest decision had been between two pizza toppings he had already eaten twice that week.

Chloe yanked his henley over his head. Her palms went flat on his chest, and her thumb found Maya’s bruise on his shoulder, then Kumiko’s bite mark. She pressed them both like she was checking inventory.

"Don’t use the voice on me tonight. I sing tomorrow, and if you make me scream I’ll sound like a goose."

"Noted. Indoor voice only."

"You don’t have an indoor voice. You have the normal one and the illegal one."

She shoved his sweats down, and he lifted his hips to help. Kumiko let out a tiny sound when he sprang free, and Chloe rolled her eyes and reached between them. Her hand wrapped around him and stroked once, slow, and his head hit the back of the couch.

"Fuck, babe, okay, warning would be nice."

"This is the warning."

She pulled the boxers aside and sank down on him in one long slide. Her whole body shuddered, and she made a sound deep in her chest that was all breath and no voice. The diaphragm thing had worked, apparently. She was getting every inch of air she needed, and she was spending it on him.

"Haaa, ahh, oh, so deep, Jordan, you’re so deep, I can feel you up under my ribs."

He put his hands on her hips and let her set the pace. She rolled against him slowly at first, the couch creaking under them, the wet sound of skin getting louder with every grind. Kumiko knelt beside them on the cushion, and her small hand came up and rested on Chloe’s back, between her shoulder blades.

Chloe turned her head and looked at her. Something soft crossed her face, there and gone.

"You can touch. You’re allowed, Kumi."

Kumiko’s fingers spread on Chloe’s spine. Her other hand found Jordan’s chest and stayed there over his heart. Her breathing came quick and shallow against his shoulder, and she pressed a kiss to the bite mark she had left, then another one higher on his neck.

"You’re both so warm, I’m going to melt, I’m actually going to melt into the couch and Chloe will have to buy a new one."

"You’ll pay for it."

"Jordan-kun will pay for it, you said so this morning!"