In the cutthroat world of corporate rivalry, two CEOs find themselves entangled in a dangerous game. Determined to shut down BDSM clubs that they believe bring them only misfortune, they meet to negotiate their next move. Choi San decides to take ma...
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....::::**•°𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 °•**::::....
As I slipped out of the guest room, the morning light filtered through the large windows, casting a serene glow throughout the hallway. My mind was a whirlpool of embarrassment from last night's inebriated escapade. Clinging to San, how could I have let myself go like that? I winced at the memory, hoping he was still asleep so I could make a quiet escape, preserving what little dignity I felt I had left.
I tiptoed down the corridor, hastily buttoned up my shirt, and adjusted my clothing, all while trying not to make a sound. As I reached the end of the hallway, I paused, gathering my bearings and steeling myself for a discreet exit. But the moment I stepped into the living area that flowed into a spacious kitchen, my plans faltered.
There he was—San, standing by the kitchen counter, shirtless. The morning sun highlighted the contours of his muscular back, and the intricate tattoos that adorned his skin seemed to tell stories of their own. For a moment, all thoughts of escape evaporated, and I found myself caught up in the sight.
San turned around, seemingly aware of my presence, and flashed a knowing smile. "Morning," he greeted, his voice warm and unassuming. "You're up early."
I cleared my throat, trying to regain my composure. "Yeah, I, uh—just woke up," I stammered, my gaze reluctantly pulling away from his tattoos. "I was just about to head out."
San raised an eyebrow, his smile widening slightly. "You sure you don't want some breakfast? I was just about to make some coffee," he offered, turning back to the coffee maker. The casual ease in his demeanor contrasted sharply with the turmoil inside me.
Caught off guard by his hospitality and the ease with which he handled the situation, I hesitated. The thought of fleeing without addressing last night's behavior seemed increasingly cowardly. "Coffee sounds good, actually," I admitted, finally stepping fully into the kitchen, accepting the reality of facing him and perhaps easing the awkwardness of the night before.
San nodded, pleased. "Great! Take a seat. Coffee will be ready in a minute. We can chat."
As I sat at the kitchen island, watching him move about with effortless grace, a part of me relaxed. San's calm acceptance of the situation, without any hint of mockery or disdain, made me feel less embarrassed about my earlier clinginess. It was a new day, and perhaps, a chance to move past the awkwardness and strengthen a friendship that had just begun to deepen.
"About what, I didn't do anything yesterday," I had said quickly, a bit too defensively.
San's amused expression didn't waver as he watched my face turn a deeper shade of red. His casual teasing effortlessly stripped away any pretense I might have clung to. It was clear he enjoyed the slight upper hand he had in this moment, but his tone remained friendly, lacking any real mockery.
"You didn't do anything, I never said you did anything," he responded, a playful edge to his voice. His words, echoing back my own, highlighted the absurdity of my hasty denial and only served to deepen my embarrassment.
