Your Girlfriend Calls Me Daddy-Chapter 64 | What You Already Want

"What?"

"You ran," I repeated. "The drain works both ways, but only under specific conditions. Mutual giving. Neither person holding back, not even a little." I came around the desk and stood beside her, close enough that she had to tilt her head up to keep track of me. "You pulled away before the circuit could complete. Right at the edge of it."

Cheon turned in her seat to keep facing me, the movement deliberate, controlled, the kind of thing someone does when they refuse to let their back be exposed. "You’re saying I needed to stay longer."

"I’m saying you needed to be present. Fully. No part of you already halfway out the door."

"That’s ridiculous." The word came out clipped, precise, the academic register she reached for when something made her uncomfortable. "I was there. I didn’t go anywhere."

"Your body was." I reached out and tucked a loose strand of her pale blue hair back behind her ear, the gesture easy, unhurried. She went very still. Not the stillness of someone relaxed. The stillness of someone who has decided, quite firmly, not to react, and is working harder at it than they expected to. "Your mind was already running the exit scenarios. I could feel it. The moment it started pulling away, the channel narrowed."

"I’m not—"

"Your eyes keep darting to the door. Your posture is rigid. You’re mentally calculating how quickly you could reach the exit."

She stood abruptly, putting us chest to chest. "Stop analyzing me."

"Stop lying to yourself."

For a moment, neither of us moved. I could feel the heat radiating from her body, see the pulse point in her throat jumping rapidly. She smelled like lavender and paper. Clean. Organized. Everything I wasn’t.

"What happens now?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

"That depends on what you want."

"I want answers."

"I’ve given you answers."

"Not all of them."

I smiled. "Getting greedy, Class Rep? The contract specified one hour of information. We’ve got..." I checked my watch. "Thirty-eight minutes left. What else do you want to know?"

Her eyes dropped to my mouth, then quickly back up. The movement was so fast I almost missed it. Almost.

"Does it hurt? The drain?"

"No. For me, it feels like..." I searched for the right description. "Like drinking something you’ve been thirsty for your entire life."

"And for the other person?"

"You tell me."

Her cheeks flushed again. "It was... overwhelming."

"Just overwhelming?"

"You know what it felt like." The words came out sharp, defensive.

"I know what your body did. I don’t know what you felt."

"It felt good," she admitted, the words costing her visibly. "Too good. Like nothing I’d ever experienced."

"And that scared you."

"Yes."

"Why?"

She looked away. "Because I shouldn’t have felt anything. Your ability manipulated my body’s responses. Created artificial pleasure."

"Is that what you think happened?"

"What else could it be?"

I laughed. "My ability amplifies what’s already there, Cheon. It doesn’t create what doesn’t exist."

Her eyes snapped back to mine, wide with realization. "That’s not possible."

"It’s the truth. I can’t make you feel something you’re not capable of feeling." I took her chin between my thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up. "I can’t make you want something you don’t already want."

She jerked away from my touch. "You’re lying."

"Why would I lie?"

"To manipulate me. To make me think—" She stopped abruptly.

"Think what?"

"That I wanted you to touch me. That I enjoyed it."

"Didn’t you?"

"That’s not the point."

"It’s exactly the point." I stepped closer. "My ability requires physical contact, yes. But the effect is stronger with willing participants. The more someone wants the connection, the more powerful the drain becomes."

Understanding dawned in her eyes. "You’re saying my reaction was so strong because I..."

"Because somewhere under all that perfect posture and rigid rule-following, you wanted me to touch you. You wanted to feel what I made you feel."

"No."

"Yes." I backed her against the wall, much like I had in the storage room. "Just like you want me to touch you now."

"I don’t—"

"Your pupils are dilated. Your breathing has accelerated. Your skin is flushed." I placed my hand against the wall beside her head, not touching her but close enough that she could feel my body heat. "And most telling of all, you haven’t moved away."

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. "This is inappropriate. We’re at school."

"We were at school last time too."

"Someone could walk in."

"The door locks from the inside."

Her eyes darted to the door, then back to me. "I signed your contract. I agreed to support your cover story. What more do you want from me?"

"The question isn’t what I want," I said, lowering my voice. "It’s what you want. What you’re afraid to admit you want."

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t move away either. We stood there, so close our breaths mingled, the tension between us thick enough to cut.

"Twenty-nine minutes left," I said softly. "You can spend them asking more questions, or you can find out what happens when you don’t run away."

"When I submit, you mean."

The word choice sent a jolt through me. Exactly what the quest required.

"When you allow yourself to want what you already want."

Cheon’s gaze dropped to my mouth again, lingering longer this time. "And if I say no?"

"Then you say no. We finish our meeting, and you leave with your answers."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." I stepped back, giving her space. "Despite what you might think of me, Cheon, I don’t take what isn’t offered."

She studied my face, looking for the lie, the manipulation. But there wasn’t one to find. The irony of my situation wasn’t lost on me. I needed her submission to complete my quest, but it had to be freely given. I couldn’t force it.

The perfect trap.

"If I... if we..." She struggled to form the words. "Would it be like last time?"

"No," I said honestly. "It would be better."

"Why better?"

"Because this time, you wouldn’t run before the circuit completed. You’d feel what Mera felt."

"The return transfer."

"Yes."

She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders like she was preparing for battle.

"Lock the door."