Page 65 of The Encore’s Crown

I stare at him. This isn't the Kiri everyone warned me about. The way people talk, he should have taken one look at me and started planning which flat surface would survive us. Instead, he keeps stopping, redirecting, and treating my body like he subscribed to my OnlyFans just to stare at the previews.

“You know,” I say, “your reputation is starting to look like a lie.”

He sighs and pulls me closer until my face is tucked against his chest.

“Keep that quiet. I have an image to maintain.”

I laugh against his skin.

“Wouldn’t want everyone finding out the terrifying Kiri Chhim is secretly a softie?”

“It'd destroy years of careful branding.”

I tip my head up, studying him. Then I bite his bicep.

He jerks. “Fuck. What was that for?”

“For being annoying.” I bite him again, lighter this time.

“Damn, k-kra—Kroppy.” He frowns. “Whatever. My Khmer’s running on no sleep. You’re Kroppy now. My crocodile. Always using your fucking teeth.” He grabs my jaw gently and turns my face toward him. “Stop. Biting. Me.”

“Then tell me why you keep refusing.”

“If you stop snapping that jaw at me, I’ll tell you.”

I consider his proposal, then bite the edge of his chest near his shoulder.

He flinches and gives me an incredulous look.

“Tell me, or this crocodile will keep going lower until I find something more sensitive.”

His eyes flick downward and the wince that crosses his face makes me laugh. His hand moves slowly over my back, thumb tracing the line of my spine beneath the sheet. He looks away for a moment, toward the dark window and the faint line of early morning beginning to show around the curtains.

“It just doesn’t feel right, taking something from you right now.”

My smile disappears. I blink at him in disbelief. “You wouldn’t be taking anything.”

He exhales and drags a hand over his face. “You were grieving when this started between us, and I don’t know…” His jaw tightens. “It feels messed up, like I’d be using something you’re going through to get something I want.”

For a second, I can’t speak. Of all the explanations I expected, that wasn’t one. He looks uncomfortable saying it, as though the thought has been sitting inside him for days and he hates that I’ve made him say it out loud.

“I know you want it. I know you’d be choosing it.” He pauses. “But I also know grief makes people reach for things, shit that makes the world shut up for a little while. Sex is definitely… one way to do that.”

My chest aches. “It’s not taking something from me. You’d be giving something. We both would.”

His brow furrows, skepticism written all over his face. I press closer and rest my hand against his chest before gesturing toward the rest of him beneath the sheet.

“There's probably a million people in line behind me begging for the opportunity to sleep with you.”

“That sounds exhausting. I don't have the energy anymore. Now, if we were talking about twenty-year-old me, he'd take that challenge happily.” He tries to brush it off with a joke but I don't let him.

“You genuinely don’t see yourself that way, do you?” His eyebrows rise. I gesture at him again, broader this time. “Your body. You. It's a gift too.”

He shrugs. I stare at him, trying to process how stupid he must actually be.

“You perform half-naked in front of thousands of people. Don't act dumb.”

“I know people find me attractive.”