Yn pov

I walked over to the bed, still naked, the cool air teasing my skin, the chill raising goosebumps and stiffening my nipples. But it wasn't just the cold. It was the anticipation, the lingering thrill that pulsed beneath the surface. I slid onto the bed, arching my back and lifting my hips into the air, positioning myself with deliberate precision. It was a pose that spoke of temptation, an invitation crafted to provoke the response I craved.

Grabbing my phone, I angled it just right, capturing the sultry image that I knew would set him alight. My lips parted, biting down softly as the camera clicked. The thought of his reaction-his hunger, his need-sent a flush of heat through me, making my pulse

I sent the photo to him, knowing exactly what it would ignite. Every second of waiting felt like an eternity. I could feel the void of his absence pressing in on me, the silence in the room thick and suffocating. My mind replayed every stolen moment, every secret touch, every whispered promise that tied me to him. The room felt hollow without him-an empty shell that only he could fill.

When my phone buzzed, my breath caught in my throat. His reply was simple, but it was all I needed: "I'm on my way."

Relief flooded me, followed swiftly by the rush of anticipation. I knew what this meant, what we risked each time, but I didn't care. I needed him. I needed to feel alive again, even if it was only for a few hours.

I stretched out on the bed, my body already humming with desire, imagining his hands on me, the weight of him pressing down, the taste of his lips devouring mine.

For tonight, he would be mine. And for a little while, I could forget the shame, the loneliness, the emptiness that gnawed at me. I could lose myself in the heat, in the forbidden thrill that consumed us both.

I tied a robe loosely around me, the soft fabric brushing against my skin, heightening the anticipation. When I heard the knock on the door, my heart leapt in my chest. I moved quickly, unlocking the door and pulling it open to reveal him- jungkook, standing there in a navy-blue suit that clung perfectly to his frame. He looked like sin personified, the scent of his cologne-musky, masculine-wrapping around me, pulling me under.

"Come in," I whispered, a seductive smile curling at my lips as I stepped aside. The tension between us was electric, crackling in the air as I guided him to the sofa, my fingers already reaching for his tie.

As I slowly loosened the silk, his gaze burned into me with an intensity that made my pulse quicken. I leaned in, pressing my lips against his neck, feeling the heat of his skin beneath my mouth. He groaned, low and deep, his hands finding my waist and pulling me closer, as if he couldn't stand the space between us.

But then, his phone rang.

The sound shattered the moment, and his body tensed beneath my touch. His expression darkened as he pulled the phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen. Kim Seol - His wife. My ex-friend.

His eyes flicked to mine, a flicker of guilt passing through them. I stepped back, my chest tightening as reality came crashing down around us.

"Answer it," I said softly, hiding the bitterness that curled beneath my skin, like a serpent ready to strike.

He hesitated, then answered the call, his voice tight, controlled. As he spoke to her, I watched him-watched the way his jaw clenched, the way his free hand raked through his hair, frustration bleeding into every line of his body. Every second of that call was a reminder of everything I could never be, of everything that lay between us.

But I didn't stop. I didn't care.

I moved closer, my hands reaching for his belt. His eyes widened, but I was relentless, determined to reclaim his attention, to make him feel the conflict between duty and desire. I wanted him to drown in it.

"Hey, Seol," he said, his voice strained, while | unbuckled his belt and slid my hand inside his pants. His breath hitched, his body betraying him as I stroked him slowly, teasing him with my touch.

"Yn," he whispered urgently, trying to push my hand away, but I wasn't backing down. I wanted him torn. I wanted him to feel the weight of the choices we made, the tightrope we walked between ruin and rapture.

His conversation with Seol became short, clipped, his composure unraveling as I continued. The power in that moment was intoxicating, the control I wielded over him like a drug. His resolve was crumbling, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps, but he kept pretending. Kept pretending that the world outside this room still mattered.

When he finally hung up, he turned to me, his expression a storm of frustration and desire. "What the hell are you doing?" he growled, though there was no real anger in his voice, only raw, unbridled want.

I smiled, my own anger still simmering just beneath the surface. "Reminding you why you're here," I whispered, my hands pulling him closer. Tonight, I would be the only thing in his world, the only thing he craved. The harshness of reality could wait.

"You're impossible," he growled, but his hands were already on me, pulling me into a bruising, hungry kiss. His need, his frustration-all of it poured into that kiss, his mouth claiming mine as if it was the only thing holding him together.

His hand tangled in my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me gasp, while his other hand slid inside my robe, his touch rough, possessive. I pressed myself against him, reveling in the feel of his arousal, the heat radiating off his body, the way he couldn't resist me.

I pushed his jacket from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, my fingers trembling with urgency as I unbuttoned his shirt. He didn't wait-he yanked the robe from my body, leaving me bare beneath his gaze. His eyes darkened, his lips curving into a wicked smile that sent a shiver of anticipation through me.

"You're mine tonight," he growled, his voice thick with lust.

"Always," I whispered, my voice barely steady.

In one swift movement, he lifted me, carrying me to the bed, laying me down with surprising gentleness. His lips found mine again, softer this time, but no less hungry. His hands roamed over my body, touching every inch of me, as if he needed to remind himself I was real. I arched into him, my fingers finding the buckle of his belt once more, pulling it free as I slid his pants down.

We moved together, shedding clothes, shedding everything that stood between us until there was nothing left but skin on skin. The heat between us burned hotter with each passing second, every touch, every kiss igniting the fire that consumed us both.

He kissed his way down my body, his mouth lingering on my breasts, his tongue flicking over my nipples until I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders. He took his time, savoring every moment, every reaction, until I was trembling beneath him, desperate for more.

When his mouth finally found my pussy, I cried out, my hips lifting off the bed as he worshipped me with his lips and tongue. He brought me to the edge, holding me there, teasing me with his control, until I was begging, pleading for release.

And then, he gave me what I needed.

When he finally thrust inside me, the sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in my body alive with the raw intensity of it. We moved together, our bodies in perfect sync, the world around us forgotten, lost in the pleasure of each other.

As we reached the peak together, our cries mingling, I held onto him, knowing that this moment, this fleeting ecstasy, was all we had. And for now, it was enough.

In his arms, I found a brief escape from the weight of reality. For tonight, we were enough.