Mhok's pov
(One month earlier)
Waiting has always been my least graceful habit.
I don't pace. I don't fidget. I sit still, face neutral, like someone who has learned early that wanting too much shows. But in my inside, everything is loud.
Every sound from outside the room presses against my nerves. The faint hum of the air conditioner. Footsteps in the corridor. The distant clink of glass. Khun
Rome is late.
Not late enough to be rude. Just late enough to make me notice.
I check my watch once. Then force myself not to look again. That would make it obvious, even though no one is here to see it. The staff move quietly, professionally, pretending not to notice how often I glance at the door.
He's coming back. After a long time. Let's say three years, two months , and.... 4 days? Not that I count it.
Meetings, flights, obligations stacked on top of each other. I told myself I wouldn't wait. That I'd just carry on and meet him when he arrived.
I lied.
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway cuts through the air like a blade. My chest tightens before I can stop it. I am standing there without thinking, smoothing my shirt as if it's wrinkled, as if I'm not already painfully aware of how I look.
Then the door opens.
Sunlight spills in first, then him.
Rome steps out of the car, tall, relaxed, wearing that easy confidence that never feels forced on him. His hair is slightly mussed from travel, smoothing his suit, watch glinting at his wrist. He looks tired if you know where to look. Around the eyes. In the way his shoulders drop the moment he's home.
Then he smiles.
And it hits me, sharp and familiar in the way as if I never forgot how he smiles even after seeing him properly in eight years.
"Welcome back, Khun Kritdanai," I say, because titles are safer than names.
He turns toward me fully then, and the smile widens like it's been waiting.
"I missed you so much," Rome says, soft and unguarded.
Just like that. No hesitation. I looked at anything but him.
My heart stumbles. It Actually stumbles. I feel it in my throat, in my ribs, in the brief, ridiculous urge to close the distance between us and do something reckless.
I don't.
I school my face into something calm, something appropriate. "You look tired," I say instead.
He laughs quietly. "That obvious?"
I gesture toward the staff. "Let them take your luggage."
Rome nods, then turns slightly. "Please handle it," he tells them, easy authority in his voice. Then his attention comes right back to me, like it never left.
I start walking inside before I can think too much about it. He falls into step beside me, close enough that I can feel his presence, the faint scent of his musky cologne mixed with something travel-worn and real.
I hate how easily my body responds to him. How instinctive it is.
I showed him his room. He went inside, I stop near the door, suddenly unsure of where to stand. It's ridiculous. I've been in this room a hundred times. With him. Without him. But what new now?
Rome takes in the space like he hasn't seen it before, then glances at me.
"Did you eat?" he asks.
"Yes," I answer.
He hums. "I didn't."
"I'll ask them to-"stepping inside , I took my phone to call some staff for arranging him the meal as it's not the time for lunch.
"I need something else first." he pulled my hand midways.
I pause. Turn to face him. "What do you need?"
Rome's eyes flicker. Just a second. Then he smiles again, slower this time.
I don't like that smile.
I love it? I cleared my thoughts and looked at him .
"I'll tell you," he says, "but only if you promise not to scold me."
"That depends," I reply. "On what it is."
He steps closer. Too close. My back brushes the edge of the bed pole. I don't move away. That's my first mistake.
"If I say what I want," Rome asks quietly, "will you give it to me?"
The question isn't explicit. It doesn't have to be. But The air shifts anyway, charged. I can feel my pulse in my ears.
"Khun Rome," I warn, even as my voice betrays me. Too soft. Not nearly stern enough.
He pulled my another hand into him, holding both of it, he pushed me which caused me to fall on the bed, and he hovered over me.
" tell me mohk! Will you?" he asked looking at my face intensely. His eyes roved from my ears to my lips and stayed there.
it's deliberate. Intentional. My breath catches before I can stop it.
Before he can say anything else, before I lose what little control I have left, I react.
I grab his wrist and twist, using his own momentum against him. Rome lets out a surprised laugh as I push him back, guiding him down onto the bed with more force than necessary. He lands easily, relaxed, like he trusts me not to hurt him.
I straddle the space briefly, then pin his hands above his head, my grip firm but not rough. The position is intimate. Too intimate. But who cares. He is the one initiated it. Now he is paying back.
I lean down just enough for him to feel my presence without giving him what he wants.
"You're shameless," I say, voice low. "You leave for years and come back acting like you own me."
Rome grins up at me, eyes bright, unrepentant. "Do I not?"
I scoff, but my face is burning. "In your dreams."
"Those too," he says lightly.
I hold his wrists a second longer than necessary. Feel the warmth of his skin. The steady strength there. He's letting me do this. That realization sends a strange jolt through me.
I release him abruptly and stand, turning away before he can see my expression. I adjust my glasses and turned.
"Get some rest," I mutter. "You're jet-lagged and annoying."
Behind me, Rome laughs, soft and pleased. "your heart is beating so fast.. so You did miss me."
I don't answer.
I walk out of the room before he can say anything else, my heart racing like I've just escaped something dangerous.
Once I'm safely outside, I stop and press my fingers to my cheek, grounding myself. It's warm. Too warm.
Get it together, Mhok.
I exhale slowly, once, twice, until the rush settles into something manageable.
Behind the closed door, I can still hear him moving, humming softly to himself.
He has no idea what he does to me.
Or maybe he does.
And that's the problem.