𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑼𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝑫𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒚

𝟓𝟏

Lisa's P. O. V.

I trudged into the kitchen, feeling parched as fuck from the intense practice session. I made a beeline for the cupboard where the glasses were kept.

Rummaging through the disorganized mess of cups and mugs, I finally found a clean glass and filled it with cool water from the tap.

I switched off the light, plunging the kitchen into relative darkness. The sound of the water sloshing in my glass was the only noise echoing around, making every sound amplified.

As I turned around to leave, a figure suddenly appeared in front of me, making me gasp. Before I could let out a scream, a hand was slapped over my mouth, muffling my protests.

The hand slowly retreated from my mouth, and as I turned to face to whoever it was. Standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight that filtered through the window, was none other than Mr. Kook, the motherfucker.

He looked different under the dim light, his features softened, but his usually sharp eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my stomach twist.

I tried to take a step back, putting some distance between us, but the counter behind me prevented any further escape.

"You- What are you doing here!?" I whisper shouted.

His eyes flicked to my face, amusement in his gaze. He leaned closer, and I could feel the heat radiating from his body against my skin.

"I could ask you the same question," he replied. "You shouldn't be sneaking around in the dark."

I narrowed my eyes at him, my tongue dripping with venom. "Oh, yeah? And who the hell do you think you are telling me what to do? You're the one lurking around like a damn creep."

He chuckled, unbothered by my rudeness. "Cute."

I bristled at the condescending tone, my irritation rising. "Don't call me cute, you-"

I was mid-sentence, ready to give him a piece of my mind, when suddenly his hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer. My protests were silenced as his lips crashed against mine in a fierce, hungry kiss.

"We don't kiss intruders, do we?"

I pushed against his chest, trying to break free from his grip. But his arms were like fucking steel, his body unyielding against my efforts.

I tried to pull away from his kiss, but he was relentless, his lips moving over mine insistently, his tongue seeking entry.

After a moment, he finally relented, his lips leaving mine with a soft, dissatisfied sound.

"Stubborn," he murmured, his fingers lightly tracing my jawline.

As his fingers grazed over my skin, an anger flared up within me. I was tired of him treating me like some prize or challenge to be won. I pushed at his chest again, harder this time.

"Don't touch me," I grinded my teeth at him. "You have no right to touch me."

He didn't back down. If anything my outburst did was to rouse his stubborn streak. His hand continued its path along my jaw, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip gently.

"No right, hm?" he repeated, his tone laced with mockery. "You seemed to enjoy it moments ago, when you were struggling under my touch."

Anger boiled over, and my hand flew up, delivering a firm slap to his cheek.

But he didn't react as expected. He didn't flinch, didn't rub his reddening skin. Instead, a dark grin spread across his face, his eyes taking on a dangerous gleam.