After—when the kitchen smelled like burnt sugar and sex—they bathed in Tae's marble soaking tub, her back pressed to his chest as he kneaded soap into her thighs. Kook's teeth grazed her shoulder when she reached behind to stroke him lazily underwater. "*Again*?" she laughed, feeling him harden against her ass. But the Rolex on the towel rack chimed—her driver would arrive soon.

Dressing was a slow torture. Tae's silk blouse clung to her damp skin as Kook buttoned it wrong twice, his fingers lingering at each pearl button. He caught her wrist as she reached for her Louboutins—pressing her palm against the tent in his slacks with a smirk. "*Later*," she promised, though her breath hitched when he tightened her grip.