The Seoul skyline glittered like a sea of fallen stars beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of Kira and Seungcheol’s sleek, modern apartment. Inside, the atmosphere was just as electric, though far more intimate. Kira lounged on a plush velvet couch, her long legs stretched out, barely covered by a silk robe that clung to her curves like a whispered secret. The fabric shimmered under the soft glow of a single lamp, leaving little to the imagination. She sipped from a glass of deep red wine, her sharp, feline eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. 11:47 PM. Late. Again.
“Typical,” she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with irritation and a hint of amusement. “Leaves me waiting like some damsel in distress. As if I’d ever be that pathetic.”
The faint hum of the city below was the only sound in the room until the door finally swung open with a decisive click. Seungcheol stood in the threshold, still dressed in the tailored suit he’d worn to the MET Gala afterparty halfway across the world. His tie hung loose around his neck, the top buttons of his crisp white shirt undone, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of collarbone. Exhaustion clung to him like a second skin, but there was something else in his dark eyes—a raw, primal hunger that made the air in the room shift.
Kira didn’t bother to stand. Instead, she arched a perfectly sculpted brow, her lips curling into a smirk as she took in his disheveled appearance. “Well, well, look who finally decided to grace me with his presence. What’s this? A disheveled peacock strutting in after his big night with the glitterati?”
Seungcheol let out a low chuckle, dropping his leather duffel bag with a heavy thud. His gaze locked onto her, intense and unyielding, as he kicked the door shut behind him. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, his long strides eating up the distance between them. “You’ve got no idea how much I’ve missed that sharp tongue of yours, Kira,” he said, his voice rough and low, like gravel underfoot, thick with unspoken need.
She set her wine glass down on the glass coffee table with deliberate slowness, the clink of it against the surface almost a challenge. Her smirk widened as she tilted her head, her dark hair cascading over one shoulder. “Oh, please. Weren’t the MET Gala divas enough to keep you entertained? All those pretty little things fawning over you. Didn’t find one to take my place?”
His eyes darkened, a heated look that could’ve set the room ablaze. He stopped just a foot away from her, his hands twitching at his sides as if fighting the urge to reach out and pull her close. “Not a single one,” he said, his voice dropping even lower, a growl of frustration and longing. “No one compares to you. Never has. Never will.”
Kira’s lips twitched with amusement, but her gaze was anything but soft. She rose from the couch in one fluid motion, the silk robe slipping just enough to reveal the smooth curve of her shoulder. She sauntered toward him, her movements deliberate, predatory. “Is that so?” she purred, her tone commanding, leaving no room for argument. “Then you’d better prove it, Seungcheol. Show me just how much you missed me.”
His breath hitched audibly, his body tensing as she circled him slowly, her presence a tangible force. He muttered under his breath, barely audible, “You’re such a damn tease.”
She stopped directly in front of him, her height in those stilettos putting her nearly eye-to-eye with him. With a single finger, she tilted his chin up, forcing him to meet her piercing gaze. Her voice dripped with control, each word a velvet-wrapped command. “Tell me, darling. What exactly were you thinking about on that long, lonely flight home? Be specific. I want details.”
Seungcheol swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his composure frayed at the edges. His words stumbled out, raw and unfiltered, his voice breaking with desperation. “Every damn inch of you, Kira. The way your skin feels under my hands, the way you look at me like you could devour me whole. The sound of your voice when you’re telling me what to do—I couldn’t get it out of my head. I’ve been losing my mind thinking about you.”
Her laughter was sultry, mocking, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine. “Oh, you poor thing. You’re a hopeless mess, aren’t you?” Before he could respond, she pressed a firm hand against his chest, pushing him backward with effortless authority. “Sit.”
He collapsed onto the couch with a groan, his tailored suit rumpling beneath him as he stared up at her with wide, pleading eyes. Kira loomed over him, her presence utterly dominating, the silk robe barely clinging to her frame as she leaned down. Her lips hovered just out of reach, her breath warm against his skin as she whispered, “You don’t get to touch until I say so. Understood?”
Seungcheol’s hands gripped the edge of the couch, knuckles whitening as he fought the urge to pull her closer. A frustrated groan escaped his lips, his voice strained. “You’re killing me, Kira. You know that, right?”
Her sly grin was pure mischief as she straightened up, stepping back just enough to keep the tension taut between them. “Oh, darling, we’ve got all night to catch up. Let’s see how long you can hold out before you’re begging for mercy.”
He trembled beneath her gaze, anticipation and need warring in his expression as she stood there, untouchable yet so close, the city lights casting her silhouette in a halo of power and promise. The night had only just begun.
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