Stuck With You || Kim Taehyung

Part 58

 Y/N'S POV 

The dinner table was already suffocating with awkward tension, but nothing could have prepared me for the next words that left my mom's lips.

"We wanted to tell you all tonight... Xander and Song-hee are engaged."

My fork slipped from my hand, clattering against the plate. I froze, staring at her in disbelief, then at the two people sitting opposite me. Of all the nightmares I could have imagined, this one had never crossed my mind.

Song-hee's smirk widened, her eyes locked on me with unholy satisfaction. "Looks like I always find a way into your family, Y/N."

Her voice dripped with triumph, like she had just won some twisted game.

But I wasn't going to let her have the last word. Not tonight.

I leaned back, forcing a smile that was sharp enough to cut glass. "Congratulations. I mean, Xander deserves someone exactly like you. After all, poison only mixes well with poison."

The table went dead silent. Song-hee's smirk faltered for the briefest second, and Xander's jaw tightened. My stepdad shifted uncomfortably, but I simply sipped my water, satisfied with the sting I'd left behind.

By the time we got back home, my mind was still spinning. My mother's words echoed in my ears. Engaged. Song-hee. In my family. The thought alone made my blood boil.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the floor, my fingers absentmindedly twisting the ring on my hand. So much had happened in just one dinner.

Suddenly, I felt warmth surround me — strong arms wrapping around my waist from behind, pulling me close. I startled slightly, then relaxed as soon as I felt the familiar touch.

Taehyung.

His damp hair brushed against my cheek, drops of water cooling my skin. He had just come out of the shower, his chest bare, only his black trousers hanging low on his hips. His hold was firm, steady, grounding me.

"Still thinking about them?" he whispered, his voice low, husky, sending shivers down my spine.

I turned slightly, catching our reflection in the mirror: his wet hair, his sculpted chest pressed against my back, his chin resting on my shoulder. My heartbeat faltered, skipping into an erratic rhythm.

"Forget them," he murmured, tightening his grip. "Tonight, it's just us."

A laugh escaped me despite the heat in my chest. "We did a week ago," I teased, tilting my head just enough to catch his smirk in the mirror.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against my back. "A week ago wasn't enough. It's never enough with you." His words were playful but laced with that raw intensity I knew too well.

Before I could answer, he turned me gently, his hands sliding to my waist as he pressed me against the dresser. His wet hair dripped tiny rivulets onto my collarbone, his eyes hooded, drinking me in as if I was the only thing he'd ever craved.

"Y/N," he murmured, and my name had never sounded so dangerous.

The kiss that followed wasn't slow this time — it was urgent, desperate, a clash of lips and breaths as if he was claiming back every second lost to chaos. My hands fisted in his damp hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned against my mouth, the sound sending sparks racing down my spine.

He lifted me effortlessly, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. I gasped as my back met the soft mattress, his weight settling over me, warm and grounding, yet his touch igniting fire wherever it landed.

His lips trailed from mine to my jaw, then lower, teasing against the curve of my neck. I arched, shivering under the contrast of his cool damp hair brushing my skin and the heat of his mouth marking me. "Tae..." the whisper slipped out before I could stop it, half plea, half surrender.

He pulled back for a moment, hovering above me, his eyes burning into mine with a look that stripped me bare. "Say it again," he demanded softly, his thumb tracing my cheek as if I was fragile glass.

"Taehyung," I breathed, and that was all he needed.

The next moments blurred into waves of heat and breathless laughter, stolen kisses between gasps, whispered confessions tangled with the sheets. Every touch was deeper, every kiss hungrier, as if we were erasing the poison of the night by carving our own world — one heartbeat at a time.

And in that fire, I forgot everything but him.