He groans into my mouth, and I use that moment to push back, trying to take control again. But Han is stronger than he looks, and for once, he's not letting me win.
"Frustrated?" he murmurs between kisses, smirking against my lips.
I bite at his jaw...
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I'm still in shock.
Can I even call it that? Should I really be surprised anymore?
My impulsivity terrifies me. I lose control around him, like some part of me short-circuits whenever he's near. It's as if my body recognizes something my mind refuses to. And the worst part? I've almost accepted it.
Almost.
Because just because I let it happen doesn't mean it means anything.
I hate Hwang.
And for damn good reason.
I can't turn my back on that. I won't. Hating him is the only reason I'm alive, the only thing keeping me from losing my mind completely.
But I can't lie to myself—not after last night. It felt good. Not just the way he unraveled under me, not just the heat of his skin or the way he gasped my name like it was something sacred. No, it was more than that.
It was him.
Someone I've battled for years, pinned against the wall and at my mercy. I had him where I wanted him, breaking apart under my touch, and fuck—if that's not the most intoxicating thing I've ever experienced, I don't know what is.
But that's all it is. Power. Control. That's all I want out of this.
So why does my chest feel tight just thinking about it?
I roll over in the sheets, groaning from the lack of sleep. My body aches—not just from exhaustion, but from the phantom sensation of his hands on me, his mouth, the way we moved together. It lingers, like a ghost pressing its lips against my skin.
I rub my eyes before finally sliding my legs over the edge of the bed.
I don't bother checking my reflection as I make my way out of the room. I barely got any sleep, and I don't care if I look like hell. I'm shirtless, only in a pair of sweats—too warm, too restless to wear anything more. I remember practically tearing my shirt off last night before collapsing into bed, feeling suffocated by everything.
I run a hand through my hair, my eyes half-closed as I step into the main living area. But the second I inhale, I stop dead in my tracks.
Bacon?
What the fuck?
I blink, my mind still sluggish, my thoughts still tangled in the wreckage of last night. And then—fuck.
Hwang?
I forgot he stayed.
For a moment, I don't move. I just stand there, watching his back as he moves around my kitchen like he belongs here. The sight of him in my apartment, in my space, sets something uneasy in my chest.
