The bed room felt suffocating. Hours later, Tae lay rigid beside Minjun, his soft snores grating against the silence. Moonlight bled through the sheer curtains, painting silver stripes across the luxurious duvet. Jungkook’s face, his words, his smell – it invaded her thoughts relentlessly.

The possessive heat in his eyes, the unspoken accusation, the raw, unfinished tension humming between them. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him, his tailored suit emphasizing the powerful lines of his body, the way his jaw clenched when he saw Minjun’s hand on her waist. Sleep was impossible. Her skin felt too tight, her mind racing.

She slipped silently from the bed to the kitchen to drink some water.

***

The stark overhead light was blinding. Tae froze in the doorway. Jungkook stood silhouetted against the stainless steel refrigerator, a half-empty glass of water in his hand. He wore only low-slung grey sweatpants, the elastic band resting dangerously below his hipbones. Moonlight and the harsh fluorescents carved every defined ridge of his abdomen, the powerful V leading down, the thick muscles of his chest and arms gleaming faintly with sweat. A droplet traced a path down the hard plane of his stomach, disappearing into the fabric. Tae’s mouth went instantly, traitorously dry. She couldn’t look away.

He turned slowly, his dark eyes sweeping over her from tousled hair to bare toes, lingering on the sheer fabric clinging to her hips, the shadowed curve of her breasts clearly visible beneath the flimsy material. A low, derisive scoff escaped him. "Couldn’t sleep, Taehyung?"

His voice was rough, edged with sleep and something darker. "Or just looking for another audience?" His gaze raked over her figure, deliberately insolent. "You’ve gotten… thicker. Especially here," he nodded towards her hips and ass, his lip curling. "Minjun’s taste? Or did you finally get those injections you used to talk about?"

Heat flooded her cheeks, warring with the unwelcome pulse between her legs. "Shut up, Jungkook," she hissed, crossing her arms defensively. "You don’t know anything about me anymore. And we broke up because you were suffocating! Controlling every damn thing I wore, everyone I spoke to!"

***

His eyes flashed, dangerous. In two swift strides, he was before her. Before she could gasp, his hands closed like steel bands around her waist. He lifted her effortlessly, her feet leaving the floor, and slammed her down onto the cold granite countertop. Her breath whooshed out. He crowded between her thighs, his bare chest inches from her face, the heat radiating off him overwhelming. His grip on her waist was bruising, holding her pinned. Their faces were inches apart, his breath hot and angry on her skin.

"Controlling?" he growled, his voice thick. "Or protecting you from your own reckless choices? Like marrying my brother?"

Before she could retort, his mouth crashed down on hers. It wasn't gentle. It was possession, anger, and a desperate, years-old hunger unleashed. His tongue invaded, demanding, tasting.

A low moan vibrated in her throat, her traitorous body arching into his heat, her hands tangling in his hair. He kissed her deeply, ruthlessly, his hands sliding down to grip her ass, pulling her hard against the rigid proof of his arousal straining against the thin sweatpants.

She tore her mouth away, panting. "Stop! This is wrong!" Her voice trembled, betraying her.

He chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. His hand slid from her ass, fingers slipping effortlessly beneath the tiny scrap of her satin thong, delving between her thighs. His touch was electric, invasive.

He found her slick, swollen heat instantly. "Wrong?" he breathed against her ear, his fingers circling her clit with cruel precision. "Look at you. Dripping for me."

He pulled back slightly, holding her gaze, his fingers still working her, making her whimper. "Still the same desperate little slut," he spat, the words harsh, meant to wound. "Playing house while you’re soaked thinking about me."

He withdrew his hand abruptly, wiping her wetness contemptuously on her thigh. His eyes burned into hers, fierce and possessive.

"You forget, Taehyung," he whispered, leaning in so close his lips brushed her ear. "You were mine first." He stepped back, releasing her. "You’ll always be mine." Turning, he strode out of the kitchen without a backward glance, leaving her trembling on the counter, the cold granite biting into her thighs.