Indebted...

Part-18

Jungkook's pov

"Shh, you're all right."

I snapped awake with a loud gasp. The room was dark, but I didn't panic at the sight of a figure sliding into my bed; I knew it was Taehyung; knew that voice and scent.

I was breathing hard, my pulse was racing, and I felt a lingering echo of anxiety. "I was dreaming," I remembered. Dreaming about screeching tires and bright headlights. There'd been a jumble of images— some from when I was nine; some from tonight. More, it was Taehyung who'd been knocked over ... and Daehyun had been the driver. It didn't take a psychologist to work out what had prompted that part of the dream.

"I know, I heard you," he said.

I winced. "Sorry if I woke you."

"You didn't. I was getting undressed when I thought I heard you call out something. I came to check on you and quickly realized you were having a nightmare." Keeping my arms folded, I shuffled closer to him, feeling cold. It was only then I realized his chest was bare, but I still didn't move, needing the warmth that radiated from him. Taehyung snatched the covers, which I'd apparently kicked off in my sleep, and dragged them over us both. He slid his hand under my tee to splay on my back. "Now settle."

Settle? How could I do that when he was lying so close, smelling so damn good, with his palm pressed against my bare skin? The memories of the last time we'd been so close, of him pounding into me like a man possessed, flipped to the forefront of my mind. Hell

I really did despise how effortlessly he affected me. It had been bad enough before we slept together. But now that I knew what it felt like to have him moving inside me, it was so much harder to ignore his pull.

A low growl sawed at the back of Taehyung's throat. "Stop thinking and sleep."

"I'm trying."

"Try harder."

Sighing, I closed my eyes and tried blanking my thoughts, figuring it would be useless. But I must have managed to doze off at some point, because the next time my eyelids fluttered open, sunlight was creeping around the edges of the electronic shades.

I licked my lips. And froze. Oh, shit, I was half-sprawled on top of Taehyung.

My head was pillowed on his chest, my arm was slung around his waist, and one of my legs was curled over his. Moreover, one of his hands was loosely curved around the calf of the leg I'd hooked over his; the other hand had dipped into my panties and shorts to palm my ass.

I tensed. Well this wasn't good. Not wanting to wake him, I carefully tugged my leg free of his hold and straightened it. Just as slowly, I pulled back my arm and tucked it between us. I shuffled backwards, hoping the arm he'd curved around me would slip away and that his hand would then slide out of my panties. But that arm stayed where it was ... as did his hand. Giving up on moving him, I stared at his frowning face.

He was such a remote, troubled, relatively remorseless man who struggled with empathy and seemed largely indifferent to the feelings and sensitivities of others. But he'd punched Jeff for calling me a gold-digger. He'd dragged me away from the skidding car. He'd treated my graze with utter gentleness. He'd come to me when I had a nightmare. And he'd stayed with me the rest of the night, even though he allegedly didn't like sleeping in the same room as others.

Fuck, how was I supposed to keep an emotional distance from him when he was chiseling at my defenses?

I flexed my sore hand. Damn, my palm stung. At least I'd have the weekend to help it heal before going back to work. Maybe it made me a little shameless, but I was truly considering flipping back the covers so I could get a better look at his bare chest. What I could see of it was certainly impressive—he looked deliciously toned. Downright lick-able, in fact.