{BOOK THREE}...When unworldly literature student Jeon Jungkook first encountered the driven and dazzling young entrepreneur Kim Taehyung it sparked a sensual affair that changed both of their lives irrevocably. Shocked, intrigued, and, ultimately, r...
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Jungkook P.O.V.
I wake with a start. Light is flooding the room, and Taehyung is not in bed. I glance at the clock and see it's seven fifty-three. I take a deep breath and wince as my ribs tense up with soreness, though not as badly as yesterday. I think I could go to work.
Work—Yes. I want to go to work.
It's Monday, and I spent all of yesterday lounging about in bed. Taehyung only let me go out briefly to see Minho.
Honestly, he's still such a control freak. I smile fondly. My control freak. He's been attentive and loving and chatty . . . and hands-off since I arrived home. I scowl. I am going to have to do something about this. My head doesn't hurt, and the pain around my ribs has eased—though, admittedly, laughing has to be undertaken with caution—but I'm frustrated. I think this is the longest I've gone without sex since . . . well, since the first time.
I think we've both recovered our equilibrium. Taehyung is much more relaxed; his long bedtime story seems to have laid some ghosts to rest, for him and for me. We'll see.
I shower quickly, and once I'm dry, I browse carefully through my clothes. I want something sexy. Something that might galvanize Taehyung into action. Who would have thought such an insatiable man could actually exercise so much self-control? I don't really want to dwell on how Taehyung learned such discipline over his body. We haven't spoken of the Bitch Troll once since his confessional. I hope we never do. To me, she's dead and buried.
I choose an almost indecently short black bottoms and a white silk blouse with a frill. I slide on thigh-highs with lacy tops and my black shoes. A little mascara and lip gloss for a natural look, and after a ferocious brushing, I leave my hair loose. Yes. This should do it.
Taehyung is eating at the breakfast bar. His forkful of omelet stops in midair when he sees me. He frowns.
"Good morning, Mister Kim. Going somewhere?"
"Work." I smile sweetly.
"I don't think so." Taehyung snorts with amused derision. "Dr. Singh said a week off."
"Taehyung, I am not spending the day lounging in bed on my own. So I may as well go to work. Good morning, Gail."
"Mister Kim." Mrs. Jones tries to hide a smile. "Would you like some breakfast?"
"Please."
"Granola?"
"I'd prefer scrambled eggs with whole wheat toast."
Mrs. Jones grins and Taehyung registers his surprise.
"Very good, Mister Kim," Mrs. Jones says.
"Kook, you are not going to work."
"But—"
"No. It's simple. Don't argue." Taehyung is adamant. I glare at him, and only then do I notice that he's in the same pajama bottoms and T-shirt he was wearing last night.
