It started small.

At first, Tae told herself she was imagining it—that Jungkook’s eyes didn’t really linger on her when she bent forward to pour drinks, that he wasn’t really staring when she crossed her legs on the sofa. After all, he had grown up around her. She was practically his second mother.

But Tae was a woman who had been desired all her life, and she knew the difference between polite attention and hungry eyes.

Jungkook’s eyes were hungry.

It happened on a quiet Saturday evening. Yoongi had gone out with friends, and Tae was at home watching TV in her silk robe when her doorbell rang. Opening it, she was surprised to find Jungkook standing there with his easy smile and messy hair.

“Kook? Your mom forget to tell me something?” she asked, tying her robe a little tighter.

“No,” he shrugged, hands shoved in his pockets. “Yoongi said he was out, but… I just felt like hanging here. You don’t mind, right, noona?”

Tae raised an eyebrow. Noona. He only ever called her that when he was being charming—or when he wanted something.

“Come in,” she said, stepping aside. “But don’t think I’m entertaining you. I’m halfway through my show.”

Jungkook grinned, dropping onto her couch like he belonged there. Tae walked past him, aware of his eyes following the sway of her hips. When she sat, she tucked her legs under her, robe slipping just slightly off her thigh.

She caught his glance. Bold. Quick. He didn’t even pretend to look away.

“Something on your mind, Kook?” she asked softly.

He smirked. “Just wondering how you make a robe look hotter than half the girls I see in clubs.”

Tae felt her stomach tighten. He was too direct, too fearless. “Watch your mouth, boy. You forget I can still call your mama and tell her you’re misbehaving?”

“Tell her,” Jungkook leaned closer, resting his elbow on the back of the couch. “She won’t believe you. She knows I’m a gentleman.”

But his eyes weren’t gentlemanly at all. They dipped down her chest, then back to her lips.

After that night, Jungkook began showing up more often. Sometimes he came with Yoongi, sometimes without. He’d make excuses—dropping off a charger, bringing over snacks, saying Mimi was busy and he didn’t want to be alone. Tae tried to brush it off, but she wasn’t blind.

The small touches began.

When she handed him a glass of water, his fingers lingered against hers a beat too long. When she walked past him in the narrow hallway, his shoulder brushed hers, warm and firm. When she laughed at something he said, his hand would graze her knee in a way that felt accidental, but never quite was.

And the looks… oh, the looks.

Jungkook would watch her when she bent down to grab something from the lower cabinet, his eyes glued to the curve of her ass. He’d sit too close on the sofa, his thigh pressed against hers while pretending it was nothing. Sometimes she would glance up from her phone and find him already staring, his gaze heavy, burning, unashamed.

It made her nervous. Not because she didn’t like it—but because she did.

One evening, Tae had just finished her shower when the doorbell rang. She was in a tiny towel, hair damp, when she opened the door without thinking. And there he was. Jungkook.

Her breath hitched. His eyes dropped instantly, shamelessly, to the towel clinging to her body.

“Kook—what are you doing here this late?” she stammered, pulling the towel tighter.

“Yoongi said he was out again,” Jungkook said, his voice lower than usual. “I thought maybe I’d keep you company. Don’t want you getting lonely.”

Tae’s chest rose and fell. “I’m fine. You shouldn’t just show up like this.”

But she didn’t close the door.

Instead, he stepped inside, brushing past her with that familiar, intoxicating confidence. She caught the faint scent of his cologne—fresh, masculine, dizzying.

He sat on the edge of her bed while she fussed with her hair, pretending not to notice the way his gaze followed the beads of water dripping down her collarbone.

“You know…” Jungkook said suddenly, leaning back on his palms, “you’re too beautiful to be alone like this.”

Tae’s heart skipped. “Kook…” she warned softly.

He smirked. “What? I can’t say my mama’s best friend is gorgeous? It’s true.”

Her pulse raced. He was playing with fire, and she was letting him.

The bold flirting continued over the next weeks.

“Nice dress, noona,” he’d say with a smirk. “Tighter than last time. You wear it for someone special?”

“You’re such a brat,” she’d reply, swatting his arm—but her cheeks would flush anyway.

Once, when she bent to grab something, he murmured low enough for her to hear: “You’re gonna kill me one day with that ass.”

Tae froze, her heart hammering. She should have snapped at him. She should have scolded him, sent him home. But instead, she laughed shakily, brushing her hair over her shoulder.

She was beginning to dread and crave his visits in equal measure.

Forbidden worries crept into her mind late at night. What if Yoongi found out? What if Mimi did? What if she lost the people who meant most to her?

And yet… when Jungkook’s eyes found hers across the room, when his touches lingered a little too long, Tae couldn’t deny the way her body responded.

She was no longer imagining things.

Jungkook wanted her.

And the worst part?

She was starting to want him too.