Jungkook carried her through the bedroom door, her damp robe sliding open against his forearms—revealing flashes of thigh, hip, the dip of her waist where his fingers dug in. He sat her on the edge of the mattress with exaggerated care, like handling something both precious and volatile.

Tae’s breath hitched when he knelt before her, his thumbs hooking into the robe’s sash. "Let me," he murmured, peeling the soaked silk away inch by inch until she sat bare before him—skin pebbled with chill or anticipation, he couldn’t tell.