~Ye Jun~
I was this close lips literally brushing his, breath mixing, his hand already sliding up the back of my neck like he was about to pull me under and then his stupid phone started screaming from the desk.
Si-woo jerked back so fast I almost fell forward. He snatched the phone, glanced at the screen, cursed under his breath something sharp I didn't catch and answered without even looking at me.
"Yeah. What." Flat and pissed.
I stood there, chest heaving, lips still tingling from the almost-kiss, smirking like the asshole I am because honestly? Watching Mr. Ice King unravel because of a phone call was the funniest shit I'd seen all week. His jaw was so tight I thought it might crack a molar.
He barked something into the phone short, clipped, and then hung up without waiting for a reply. The second the call ended he turned, eyes black and murderous, and slammed his fist into the wall next to my head.
Plaster dust puffed out. His knuckles came away red.
I laughed. Couldn't help it. "Wow. Dramatic much? You kiss like that with everyone or is the wall your side piece?"
He grabbed my wrist hard yanked me back toward him before I could even finish the sentence. "Shut the fuck up."
And then he kissed me.
It wasn't gentle or sweet his mouth just crashed into mine like he was trying to shut me up permanently. His tongue shoved in without asking. I tasted coffee and something like faint blood probably from biting his own lip earlier. His hands were everywhere gripping my jaw, sliding into my hair, yanking my head back so he could bite down my neck like he was marking territory.
I let him. Because that was the plan, right? Seduce the bastard. Make him obsessed. Make him crack so hard he'd let me out of this contract hell without bleeding me dry.
So I kissed back. Messy and aggressive. I bit his bottom lip until he hissed. Slid my hands under his shirt, nails scraping up his sides just to feel him flinch. He growled into my mouth, actual growl, like an animal and shoved me back against the desk until the edge dug into my thighs.
He sucked on my earlobe, teeth grazing, his hot breath making me shiver even though I hated how good it felt. I didn't like it. I hated how my dick was already half-hard just from the way he was devouring me like I owed him money.
He moved down to my neck, collarbone, yanked my shirt open enough to get at my chest. Mouth on my nipple, sucking hard, then biting just enough to sting. I yelped, I couldn't stop it and he laughed against my skin, low and mean.
"Thought you were so tough," he muttered, switching to the other side, leaving a wet red mark that'd bruise purple by morning. "All that big talk and you whine like a bitch the second I touch you."
"Fuck you," I shot back, but my voice cracked on the last word because his hand was palming me through my pants now, slow and teasing, and I was pissed at how much I wanted to grind into it.
He kept going kissing, biting, sucking bruises into my skin like he was trying to paint a map of where he'd been. No hands inside my pants. No fingers. No fucking. Just mouths and teeth and hands gripping so tight I'd have fingerprints tomorrow. We kissed until my lips felt swollen and raw, until I was dizzy from lack of air, until I almost almost forgot I was supposed to hate every second of this.
Almost.
Because underneath the heat, the way his tongue curled against mine, the way he groaned when I tugged his hair under all that, I still felt it: the cold little voice in my head going, this is working, he's hooked, keep going, don't you dare feel anything real.
So I kept smirking even when he pulled back to breathe, forehead pressed to mine, both of us panting like we'd run a marathon.
"You're such a fucking menace," he rasped.
"Takes one to know one."
He glared. I grinned wider.
Then I shoved him off lightly, playfully, like it was all a game and straightened my shirt as best I could. "See you at home."
I walked out before he could reply, hips swaying just enough to be obnoxious, knowing his eyes were burning holes in my back.
The second the door clicked shut behind me I sagged against the wall in the hallway, heart hammering, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. My lips were puffy. Neck probably looked like I'd been attacked by a vacuum cleaner. And I was so hard it hurt.
I despised how my body didn't get the memo.
But the plan was still the plan.
So I went home.
Showered. Ate some instant ramen standing up in the kitchen because sitting down felt like admitting defeat. Changed into the sluttiest thing I owned that could still pass as "casual dinner clothes" tight black shirt, low-rise jeans that showed the V of my hips when I stretched, no underwear because why make it easy for him?
I waited in my room with the lights off, phone face-down on the mattress.
At 8:45 p.m. the screen lit up.
Basement now.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep me from grinning too loud. Slipped out of bed in socks so the floorboards wouldn't creak.
The hallway was dark. Mom and Dad's door was closed, no light under it. Good. They'd been asleep since 7:30 the last three nights same routine.
I took the back stairs instead of the main ones. Avoided the third step from the top that always groaned.
The basement door was already cracked. I pushed it open just enough to slide through, then eased it shut behind me without letting the latch click. I realized how much I didn't even know about this house. How did they have a basement?