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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Bahng is going to a certain club tonight. Again.
I know because I always know. Because no matter how much distance he puts between us, no matter how many times he tells me to let it go, to move on, I can't. He's been coming here often since the situation with Felix. Drinking himself into oblivion, what did Felix say to him?
I shouldn't care.
I shouldn't be here.
And yet, I am.
The decision was made the moment I heard about it, solidifying in my chest like cement. There's no turning back now.
The club is suffocating, a living, breathing beast made of sweat and sin. Bodies press together on the dance floor, grinding and writhing under pulsing neon lights, the heavy bass vibrating through my bones. It smells like liquor, desperation, and something dangerously intoxicating.
I push through the throng, slipping past swaying bodies until I reach the bar, the air slightly cooler, though the heat still licks at my skin. I slide onto a stool, order a drink, and let my gaze roam.
It doesn't take long to find him.
He's sitting in the back corner, alone, a bottle of whiskey next to his glass. He's not even bothering with cocktails anymore.
My breath catches.
Even now, after everything, he still looks like something carved out of my goddamn dreams. The dim lighting casts shadows along his sharp jawline, his lips slightly parted as he swirls the amber liquid in his glass. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to tease, to give the barest glimpse of his collarbones, the smooth expanse of his chest. His hair is slightly tousled, like he can't stop touching it.
God, what am I doing here?
I should leave. I should turn around, drink my whiskey, and get the hell out before I make a mistake I can't take back.
But the need to talk to him—to be near him, to remind him that I still exist in his world—burns stronger than common sense.
Before I can second-guess myself, I stand.
And then I'm shoved right back into my seat.
A strong hand presses against my chest, firm, unyielding. The impact sends a shock of heat and frustration through me. I blink in confusion, my focus shifting, and suddenly he's there.
Yang's figure sharpens as my mind catches up, his dark eyes locking onto mine, something dangerous flickering in their depths. "Don't even think about it." His voice is smooth, dripping with amusement, but there's an edge to it—a warning.
I scoff, breath still unsteady from the shove. "What are you, stalking me?"
He laughs, low and unimpressed. "Funny you say that, because I think I just caught you in the act." His head tilts toward Bahng, who is still sitting in the corner, oblivious to our exchange. Yang's lips curl into something almost condescending as he takes in my reaction. "Yeah... I don't think he's interested, pretty boy."
