17 Proof (Part 1)

I stared at him in wonder.

The moon had risen, casting a wavering silver light through my opened windows, enveloping everything in a pale, ethereal gauze. It softened his sharp features, leaving no more trace of the solemness that he wore at the Gatekeeper's hall the day before. He was looking at me like a lover, with only endearing tenderness in his eyes.

Had I dreamed this moment to life?

He leaned in over me. I closed my eyes, but instead of his lips on mine, I felt his kisses landing on my cheeks, my lashes, my eyelids, as if to erase my earlier tear tracks with his gentle caress.

"Tears don't suit you," he whispered. "I won't make you weep for me ever again … I promise."

My heart melted at the raw cherishment in his tone. He cupped my face, and our lips met. His tongue slid inside my mouth, demanding my breaths, overwhelming me with his scent. I never knew the smell of cedar that I was so familiar with could be so mesmerizing, so … tempting. I wanted more.

Before I knew it, my hand had already slipped into his hair. The strands at my fingertips were soft and smooth, almost silky. His skin was warm against mine, and despite the fading summer heat, I couldn't help but feel hotness rising in me, spreading from my chest to my face, igniting every part of me like wildfire.

I heard both our breaths quicken. His hand moved down, brushing over my neck and landing on the ribbons at my chest. My heart skipped a beat, but I only pulled him in closer, my mouth clumsily trying to reciprocate his movements.

His nimble fingers took no time to work the ties on my robe, and with a soft rustle of fabric, my clothes came loose.

I stopped breathing when his hand glided over to my breast. His touch was gentle but insistent, an unfamiliar feeling. My whole body tingled, and when his fingertips rubbed over my nipple, I couldn't stop the moan from escaping my throat.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I knew we had already done this before—and more—and a part of me wanted it madly, hungrily. Yet another part of me still shuddered at such a forbidden image, and I couldn't help but think all of this was just a dream that would shatter to pieces when the time came.

Bai Ye noticed my change. He broke the kiss, "If you want me to stop—"

"No!" I blurted out. Then I realized how desperate and shameless I must've sounded, and I bit my lips, not daring to look at him.

He chuckled, the low-pitched, luring sound that I loved. "Then will you help me with my clothes?" he asked softly.

I darted a glance. His hair was draping loosely across his shoulders, adding a wild side to his usual appearance. His lips were curled into a faint smile, and he looked at me expectantly, his eyes reflecting the moonlit windows like a pair of twinkling stars.

My hands trembled slightly as I reached for the sash around his waist. It reminded me of that day when I peeped from behind his door, and I remembered his words: "If you want to tell me more when I get back, I'll be glad to hear it."

So he had always known, all along.

Moonlight caught on his bare skin as I slid the last layer of his robe down his shoulders. My face burned—I had never seen another person undressed in front of me before. Even last time, I had only glimpsed his back through a thin underrobe, and to see him like this was completely different. Almost … tantalizing.

His build was lean but strong, all tight muscles and toned lines. I hesitated for a moment, then placed my hand on his chest. His heartbeat pulsed against my palm, and suddenly I wanted to press my body tightly against his, feeling our hearts beating in rhythm, our breaths mingle, our souls become one.

"Qing-er," he clasped a hand over mine. "Breeches."

"…" I opened my mouth, but words escaped me. How could I bring myself to look at his … his …

He chuckled again and pecked me on the lips, then shed the rest of his clothes himself.

"Mast— Bai Ye …" I began guiltily, annoyed by my awkwardness.

He silenced my apologies with a kiss. "You'll have plenty of time to get used to it."

Get used to it? Could he mean …

His lips had already brushed over my cheeks to my neck while I pondered. The tingling sensation came much stronger this time, and suddenly all I could think of was the feeling of his body on top of mine, skin to skin, his hardness against the inside of my thigh.

I panted, and my hand slipped behind his nape. Then he moved, his kisses trailing down my chest until they landed on my breast, and he took one of my nipples in his mouth.

"Bai Ye … um …" The titillating gesture startled me, and I instinctively wanted to stop him. But as soon as I opened my mouth, a sharp pulse shot down my spine, so intense that even my toes curled. My words turned into moans, and instead of stopping him, they encouraged him.

His tongue swirled nimbly while his hand took my other side, brushing, rubbing, twiddling. Every movement added to the waves of sensation crashing over me. I moaned again and dug my fingers into his hair. Never ever would I have imagined his austere, almost ascetic self capable of doing such a thing. The mental image of it was all wrong, but at the same time, thrilling beyond reason.

"Bai … Bai Ye …" The sensation rushing through my body was foreign, frightening, maddening. I wanted to tell him to stop, but when the words were on the tip of my tongue, I wanted him to tell him to continue, to give me more.

Then he stopped. When his lips left my skin, the sudden coldness sent another tingle crawling across my limbs, and I almost trembled.

"Qing-er," he kissed me and said, "had I known my name could sound so seductive coming from your lips, I would've never let you call me Master."

He claimed my breath again and lowered himself into me.