My Fault (JJK) BOOK 1

JUNGKOOK - 8

I was going to need to keep my eye on Y/n. Things could have gone bad the night before if my dad had found out what we were up to. I was worried about how to keep my private life hidden now that there were more than two people in the house. I didn't let my two worlds mix. I was careful about that—I needed to be.

Same as every year, we were having races in the desert, and that day, I'd need to be there. They were crazy: rock music, drugs, expensive cars, and races until the sun came up or the cops came, but they almost never bothered us, since it all happened in the middle of nowhere. The girls were wild, everyone drank, and adrenaline was the perfect extra ingredient to make it the best night of your life—as long as you weren't the loser.

Ronnie's gang always competed against us. Whoever won got to keep the loser's car, plus all the cash from the bets. It was dangerous, I knew that firsthand, and for that reason, everyone trusted me when it got down to the wire. Ronnie and I had a friendly deal, but it could be broken as easily as tearing up a sheet of paper, and that night I had to be on guard, not to mention win.

Y/n would need to keep her mouth shut, so I stopped at her door before it was time to head to the hotel where the gala was happening.

I knocked three times and waited almost a minute before she came out.

"What do you want?" she grunted.

I walked past her into her room. Before my father had married her mother, it had been mine.

"You know this used to be my gym?" I said, walking over to her bed.

"Oh no, the poor little rich boy had to give up his machines," she joked.

I stared at her, meaning to intimidate her, but as my eyes traced out the lines of her body, I couldn't help but admire it. My friends were right, she was hot, and I didn't know if that was good or bad, given my situation.

Her hair was done up elaborately, pulled back in a bun with curls framing her face. It looked elegant and easygoing at the same time. What surprised me the most, apart from the light-blue dress that hung to her feet and left little to the imagination, was her makeup: her skin looked like alabaster and her eyes like two bottomless wells. I didn't usually like chicks with a bunch of makeup on, but I had to admit, those long eyelashes made me want to reach out and touch them, and those lips—that carmine color could make any man lose his mind.

I tried to restrain the unexpected desire that overtook me and made the first nasty remark that came into my head.

"Who did the paint job?" I asked. I could tell it had gotten under her skin when I saw the blood rise in her cheeks.

"I did it so you'd keep your eyes off me," she said, turning around and grabbing a necklace off her nightstand. I could see her bare back and the silk of the dress like a waterfall.

Without even realizing it, I walked over. My fingers were aching to feel that skin that looked so soft...

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Seeing her up close, I noticed that not a single freckle was visible.

I took the necklace out of her hands and lifted it up as if I were going to help her. But she clearly didn't trust me.

"Come on, little sister, am I that bad a guy?" I asked her, asking myself at the same time what the hell I was doing.

"You're the worst," she said, snatching it back. When I felt her skin graze mine, my hair stood up on end.

Dammit!

I stepped back, frustrated at the feelings she was causing. My desire was taking over, and it was killing me to think that not only could I not touch her, I could barely even look at her.