Just A Few Numbers Away

Chapter 95

Zero Distance

​Warning 🔞:

The following chapter contains explicit sexual content, rough language, and themes of intense physical intimacy and dominance.

Viewer discretion is advised.

***

The king-sized bed felt like an island in the middle of a dark, blue ocean.

The heavy curtains were pulled back just enough to let the moonlight spill across the white linens, highlighting the sharp, pale lines of Yoongi’s back as he hovered over Aen, kissing her.

​The calculated restraint he had practiced all day snapped.

His hands, usually so steady and clinical, became a map of heat and demand.

First, he hooked his fingers into the lapels of her cream blazer, peeling the fabric off her shoulders with a blunt, aggressive downward sweep.

It thudded heavily onto the carpet, instantly forgotten.

Then, his hand found the zipper of her silk dress.

The sharp, mechanical sound of it sliding down her spine echoed like a starting pistol in the quiet room.

​"You’ve been wrapped in layers all day, Aen-ah," he rasped against the hollow of her throat, his teeth grazing her skin as he peeled the fabric away.

He didn't pull away to let her undress; instead, he used his weight to shift her, his hands hooking into the silk at her shoulders to peel the straps down her arms.

He did it slowly, not out of hesitation, but out of a dark, predatory enjoyment.

As he pushed the fabric down, his palms followed, smoothing over her skin and forcing the dress past her waist and over the curve of her hips until it was nothing more than a tangled heap of midnight silk at the foot of the bed.

He didn't stop at the silk.

His fingers hooked into the delicate lace at her hips, his knuckles grazing her skin with a possessive heat as he stripped the last of her defenses away in one blunt, downward motion.

He tossed the scraps of lace and silk toward the foot of the bed without a second thought, his eyes never leaving hers.

​"Yoon..." she breathed, her hands clutching at his bare shoulders, her fingers brushing the ridges of his scars.

The Cabernet made the world swirl, but the heat of his palms against her ribcage was a grounding force, a heavy anchor.

​He didn't stop until she was completely bared to him, a pale silhouette against the dark linens.

Yoongi didn't look away; he let his gaze travel over her with a slow, heavy intensity that felt like a physical touch.

He wasn't just looking; he was memorizing.

He was taking inventory of what have always been soulfully his—and soon, legally.

​"Beautiful," he growled, the word sounding less like a compliment and more like a claim.

He moved back over her, his chest—broad and warm—pressing her down into the mattress.

He caught her wrists, pinning them beside her head, his thumbs tracing the frantic pulse at her joints.

​"The wine might be making your head spin," he whispered, his lips ghosting over hers, "but I want you to feel every second of this. I want you to feel exactly how much I’ve been holding back since you made me showered with you earlier this morning."