Choi San, a revered and feared mafia boss, reigns over Seoul's underworld with an iron fist, his influence extending seamlessly across both legal and illegal domains. But his empire is shaken to its core when his beloved daughter, Eun-ji, is kidnapp...
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Wooyoung's boldness had become a thrilling constant in my life over the past few weeks. It was like he had shed the last of his reservations, his love for me pouring out in every touch, every kiss, every teasing smirk. Since the day I rescued him, something had shifted in him—he wasn't just bold, he was relentless. His need for connection, for closeness, was as intoxicating as it was distracting. There wasn't a room in the mansion where he hadn't stolen my attention, leaving both of us breathless and, more often than not, the room in complete disarray. Whether it was his fingers trailing up my chest during breakfast, or sneaking into my office to claim my attention, he made it impossible to resist him.
Today was no different. I sat at my desk, the last few documents for the wedding and business needing my signature. My focus was sharp, the weight of responsibility keeping me grounded, but then the door opened, and he entered like a force of nature. His robe hung off one shoulder, his messy hair framing his mischievous grin as he held a glass of whiskey in his hand. His presence was magnetic, pulling my attention away from the papers instantly.
"Your whiskey, sir," he purred, his voice low and laced with playfulness as he placed the glass on my desk. His fingers lingered on the rim of the glass, and he gave me that look—the one that promised trouble.
I couldn't help the soft smile that spread across my face. "Thank you, baby—I love you," I said, my voice warm and full of affection.
He winked at me, that devilish charm practically dripping off him as he turned and sauntered back toward the door. For a moment, I thought he was letting me get back to work, leaving me in peace. But then I felt it—warm hands sliding up my thighs, deliberate and firm.
Startled, I glanced down to find him crawling under my desk, his eyes glinting with pure mischief. Before I could utter a word, his lips pressed against my thigh, trailing soft, lingering kisses upward, sending a rush of heat through me.
"Woo," I began, my voice catching in my throat. I tried to move, to stand, but he was faster. He rose, pressing me firmly against the wall, his hands trailing up my chest before dipping lower. His touch was confident, claiming me entirely as his fingers stroked over my arousal, teasing and unrelenting.
"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" I asked, my voice low, shaky, my control slipping with every second. He looked up at me with that wicked grin, his dark eyes sparkling with defiance and something even more intoxicating—desire.
"Oh, I know exactly what I'm doing," he replied, his voice a seductive whisper. His lips brushed against my neck as he spoke, his breath warm against my skin. "You're marrying me in a week, San. Think of this as... practice for the honeymoon."
His audacity left me both stunned and completely captivated. I gripped the edge of the desk behind me, my knuckles whitening as I tried to keep myself steady. The power he had over me was undeniable, and yet I couldn't bring myself to care. He leaned closer, his lips ghosting over mine before pulling back just enough to tease.
