Rival's Crescendo: Secrets of Melrose Manor

Spin Me Around: Pressure On Our Shoulders

The clock quietly marks eleven fifty-five, its steady ticking a counterpoint to the palpable tension that hangs between us. We find ourselves in the midst of an intimate conversation, navigating uncharted emotional territory.

"Lie down with me?" I suggest tentatively, fully aware she could decline. Yet, the memory of her close embrace on the front porch of the house party emboldens me. A brief respite from eye contact might ease discussing these complex feelings.

With a hint of shyness, she agrees, and I gently guide her down beside me. Opening my arm, she nestles against my side, resting her head on my shoulder and curling her hand beneath her chin. I try to focus on the comfort of the moment, though the touch of her wrist against the curve of my breast is a distracting sensation. It's not meant to be sexual; it's meant to reassure. Drawing her closer, she sighs softly.

"I'm not entirely sure what I want, Minji," she confesses quietly.

"I know you were hurt when you left," I acknowledge, nodding in silent encouragement. Almost instinctively, my hand begins to trace lazy patterns on her arm, a soothing gesture born of its own volition. "And I know we completely lost track of time in that house."

"So did I," I affirm.

"Really?" Another nod from me, and she nestles tighter against me.

"I've been thinking about that kiss all night," she admits softly, causing my heart to skip a beat. It's the affirmation I've been longing to hear.

Realizing I'm now the one holding her, a surge of emotion wells up, and tears threaten to spill.

"I have too."

Haerin props herself up slightly, peering down at me. Self-consciously, I moisten my lips, drawing her gaze.

"I've been dying for you to kiss me again," I whisper, meeting her eyes. She nods slowly and leans closer.

We both exhale audibly, a shared sigh of longing. I wonder if she's feeling what I am-that five hours apart feels far too long without our lips touching. Her hand trails across my belly, anchoring gently on my hip, eliciting a soft moan from deep within me. My fingers find her hair, tangling in its soft strands.

Unconsciously, I draw her nearer, and she allows herself to be repositioned until she's half lying on top of me. My fingers weave fervently through her hair, while the other hand trails down her back. When it reaches the hem of her sweater, my fingers slip underneath, caressing her skin. Haerin's moan against my lips ignites something primal within me. The desire she stirs in me is unlike anything I've ever felt before.

Her tongue teases my bottom lip, sending a surge of sensation through me. I yearn for more and press my lips firmly against hers, teasingly denying her. She emits a soft growl and runs her tongue sensually along my lip once more, causing me to whimper involuntarily. When she lightly bites my lower lip, I gasp, caught off guard.

Instinctively, | arch my hips, craving more contact. Haerin's actions are intoxicating, driving me wild. She bites again, firmer this time, and I moan aloud. Taking advantage of my parted lips, she asserts her tongue more forcefully, and I groan uncontrollably, stars dancing behind my closed eyelids.

Haerin shifts her weight, pressing closer, and I ache for her to move against me, yet she keeps our lower bodies apart. Perhaps she's aware of the consequences if she allows that contact.

In the back of my mind, I register the raw, primal neediness of our encounter. The room resonates with erotic sounds, a symphony of shared desire where her moans blend seamlessly with mine.

My hands roam eagerly over her back, tracing lines, kneading, doing everything to maintain contact. Her hands mirror mine, exploring my sides and stomach in ways that surprise me with their sensuality.