Soon, Lunch finished changing her clothes.
She picked up a shopping bag and grabbed a thick wad of cash.
She said to Bulma and Oryon, “You two go ahead and eat slowly.”
“I’m heading out to buy myself some clothes that actually fit, then I’ll pick up groceries — I might be back a little late today…”
Oryon wiped his mouth and got up, walking over to stand beside Lunch.
He gently wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Gone for half a day just like that — I’m going to miss you…”
Lunch rose onto her tiptoes, cupped Oryon’s face in her hands, and kissed him deeply.
“Mwah~”
“I’ll miss you too. Be good, and get along with Bulma — don’t you two go fighting while I’m out. I’ll be back!”
With that, Lunch let go of Oryon and waved at Bulma.
“Bye, Bulma!”
The door swung open, and the sea breeze poured in.
Just before stepping out, Lunch shot Bulma a wink.
It was as if she were saying: don’t waste the chance I’ve just handed you.
Whether you seize it or not is entirely up to you now.
Bulma caught her meaning instantly, stole a glance at Oryon’s back, and nodded at Lunch in return.
It was as if she were replying: Thanks.
I’ll give it my best!
Bulma waved back in a hurry.
“Bye, Lunch.”
The door shut, and the house went suddenly quiet.
Now only Bulma and Oryon remained.
Oryon sat back down at the table as if nothing had happened and went on eating.
Bulma’s hand froze on the table, chopsticks still in her grip — for a moment she had no idea what to do.
The room was utterly silent, so quiet she could hear every breath clearly, along with the steady sound of Oryon eating.
Bulma was already full.
But she didn’t want to leave the table, because…
She wanted that too — to be with Oryon the way Lunch was.
This, she felt, was exactly the romance she’d dreamed of at sixteen — sweet, warm, sickeningly saccharine…
But after all those years of dreaming, it had remained just that — a fantasy she’d never once actually lived.
Now, closing in on thirty, Bulma craved the life Lunch had, in body and in mind alike.
She had no idea what to say, and didn’t dare look up at Oryon.
Just as she sat there stewing in that agony, a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, folding her into a warm embrace.
The feel of his hands at her waist made her whole body jolt; her chopsticks clattered onto the table.
She went rigid as a plank, as though some spell had frozen her in place.
Oryon rested his chin on her shoulder, his breath brushing the curve of her ear.
“Why are you eating like that? One grain at a time — what’s that about?”
A wave of heat surged from her waist up her back and rushed straight to her face.
In an instant her cheeks burned, flushing a deeper crimson than before.
“I— I’m already full…”
Bulma’s voice came out thin as a gnat’s whine, nothing like her usual self.
Oryon let out a low chuckle and pulled her a little tighter against him.
“Lunch is already gone — who are you still putting on an act for?”
Her body began to tremble faintly, her heart racing, her breath growing heavier.
“I— I’m not putting on an act… I’m just nervous…”
She bit her lip, fighting desperately to hold on to the last shred of her composure.
But her body was far more honest than her words, leaning back into him bit by bit without her even realizing it.
Her hand rose unconsciously to cover the arm circling her waist, fingertips curling lightly into his sleeve.
“Oryon…”
“Mm?”
“You… you’re not allowed to take advantage of me…”
Bulma kept her head down, not daring to look up, not daring to meet his eyes, not daring to move at all.
Oryon lowered his head and pressed a kiss behind her ear.
His scorching breath washed over her, and whatever composure she had left went off like a detonation.
Her body felt like it was roaring, aching for a downpour to finally break over it.
His fingers traced light circles at her waist, the heat of his palm seeping through the thin fabric bit by bit.
Her breathing turned shallow and quick, her back pressed flush against his chest, a faint ringing filling her ears without her noticing.
She could no longer even make out the sound of her own heartbeat.
She wanted to say something, anything, to break this suffocating tension.
But her trembling body, her ragged breath, her pounding heart—
—every disobedient response from her own body left her utterly unable to react at all.
“Bulma.” Oryon’s voice was low against her ear.
“Mm…” Bulma’s voice had changed completely, part drunk on sensation, part lost.
His breath fanned hot against her ear, and a fine sheen of sweat beaded on her cheeks.
“Your face is so red.”
Bulma instinctively covered her face with her hands and felt the burning heat against her palms.
Mortified, she tried to pull free of his embrace, but her body refused to obey her.
In that moment she felt like prey — powerless to resist a fate that could only end in being caught.
“Bulma, you smell so good…”
His words seemed to soothe her somehow, and her unruly body actually went still.
His fingers slid slowly up from her waist, climbing inch by inch along her slender curves and her flat stomach.
His lips brushed lightly against Bulma’s ear.
A faint jolt, like a mild electric current, shot through her, leaving a tingling numbness in its wake.
Her voice trembled, her breathing quickened.
His hand kept climbing, fingertips skimming lightly across her collarbone before stopping at the hollow of her throat.
His thumb traced small circles over that little dip of skin, feeling her pulse racing beneath it.
Bulma’s reason was peeling away, piece by piece.
Her body wanted this desperately, yet she still forced out words that betrayed how she felt, trying weakly to resist.
“Don’t… don’t do this, Oryon…”
That single line was enough to make Oryon stop cold.
Then Bulma felt the arms around her withdraw, and the scorching heat of his breath vanished.
Bulma froze.
What…
just happened?
Why did he stop so suddenly?
Oryon turned her around to face him and said, a touch apologetically, “Sorry, Bulma.”
“You’re just too beautiful — I got a little carried away just now…”
He took two steps back.
Bulma’s eyes went wide as she stared at him.
Panic rose inside her.
No — don’t stop!
I want this…