⭑· · ───── ·( 𝐀 𝐯 𝐚 )· ───── · · ⭑
Seungcheol stares at me through narrowed eyes, and it's a jolt to my system.
He also steals my breath as he rises slowly, his gaze fused to mine for long beats.
Everything about him is stunning, from his height and build to the way the black suit fits with absolute perfection. His dark-haired beauty turns heads—masculine beauty personified.
Seungcheol looks like he fits seamlessly into this world of money and status.
Legit status.
Even with an air of danger, he manages that.
He takes me in and doesn't smile. Instead, he shifts his gaze from me, sending death glares to the men in the room.
Men I didn't even notice staring at me.
It's something I usually do.
Something I know because women need to be aware of lurking predators. But this time I didn't notice a thing.
Every sense I've got was and is focused on this man.
Now, though, I feel them looking, touching with their gazes, undressing me. I swallow because, in that second of awareness, I'm realize how revealing my dress is.
My back straightens as Seungcheol comes toward me with slow deliberate steps. "What the fuck are you wearing?"
"What the fuck do you think?"
He leans in, his lips almost touching my skin. A shiver of desire runs right through the center of me. "I think you're playing with the wrong kind of fire again."
"You think, do you?"
"I can do that, Ava. And if I wasn't here, some of the less scrupulous wolves dressed as fucking sheep would rip you the fuck apart."
"Maybe," I say, "I'd like that."
"And maybe you're adding button-pushing to your dangerous little collection."
Thing is, I'm grateful he's here. Kind of. He's a barrier between me and them. But who or what's the barrier between us?
What the fuck was I thinking, wearing something so tight, so revealing, so not me?
I know what I was thinking.
"You said dress up for dinner, so I did. I figured this would be to your tastes."
He flashes a nasty little grin as we're led to our table in the back, nestled among large floral displays, an air of intimacy about it. "I like what's in it. But the outfit? It doesn't seem to be you."
Seungcheol pauses as we're seated. Then his hand skims along my thigh for a breathless second. "Or maybe I'm wrong, and that makes me the luckiest man in here."
The hand's gone, the touch so fleeting I almost wonder if he touched me... except I can still feel the caress.
I wore this dress to entice Seungcheol, to draw him in... and maybe to make him feel jealous, the way I did last night when he didn’t hesitate to run to Jeonghan when he called.
That wasn't an act. It was real. And I want him to see he doesn't own me, that I'm desirable—but now it feels silly.
Silly and stupid and confusing, and not just because I'm suddenly teetering on the edge of vulnerability, but because he's clearly being protective.
In his own, scary, threatening way.
There's something there, in the middle of that silliness, a confusion that feels kind of nice.
I haven't felt protected since my father died. For years now, it's just been me, fending for myself, all alone in the world.
