His lips brushed hers first.
Not forcefully.
Not harshly.
Not the way rumors said Kang Do-yoon acted.
Just a quiet, trembling contact —
a man who had held himself together for too long
finally letting himself feel something
he'd never permitted before.
Yeon-hwa's breath hitched.
Her fingers tightened against the table she leaned on, and her body pressed forward involuntarily when the heat from the aphrodisiac surged again, curling like fire along her spine.
Do-yoon froze a single heartbeat after kissing her.
His hand stayed against the wall beside her head, muscles trembling with restraint. His forehead lowered against hers as he sucked in a sharp breath.
He was losing control.
He knew it.
She knew it.
"Yeon-hwa," he breathed — the first time he had ever said her name like that, raw and unfiltered.
Her body reacted before her mind did.
A soft sound escaped her lips, barely-there, but enough to undo every last thread of restraint holding him upright.
He cupped her jaw gently at first — thumb brushing the heat beneath her cheek. She flinched from the sensitivity, a wave of warmth pulsing across her skin. Her breath trembled against his mouth.
His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
"You're burning up."
"Do-yoon… I told you… I'm fine."
"You're not."
Another tremor ran through her body.
She swallowed, gripping the front of his suit jacket as another wave of heat rolled through her — her aura flaring, her knees weakening.
He steadied her by the waist.
His fingers pressed hesitantly at first — then firmly when she swayed again.
His control frayed visibly.
His jaw clenched hard, breath shaking as he tried to keep distance, but the scent of her — warm vanilla, thick and intoxicating under the dim lights — wrapped around him like silk.
He dropped his forehead to her shoulder, exhaling harshly.
"Don't… stay close to me when you're like this."
"Why?" she whispered.
"Because I won't stay calm."
She shivered.
His grip tightened.
The kiss deepened before she even realized he was moving — no hesitation this time, no restraint, just heat meeting heat. His lips moved against hers slowly at first — searching, learning, savoring — then with growing hunger as her breath caught under him.
Her hands moved upward — sliding against his chest, then curling into his shirt. Not pulling him closer, not begging, just holding him there as her legs trembled.
Her fingers brushed the collar of his suit jacket — that tiny movement enough to make his breath break.
He murmured her name again, voice hoarse.
"Yeon-hwa…"
Another wave hit her — her aura pulsing warm and heady. Her body leaned into his instinctively, trying to steady itself, but the closeness only ignited him further.
His hand slid from her waist to her back — supportive, careful — yet the warmth of his palm through the thin satin of her blouse sent a shock running up her spine.
She gasped softly.
Her blouse shifted beneath his touch —
fabric slipping from her shoulder just slightly,
a whisper of satin against skin,
a hint, not an exposure.
His breath stuttered.
He lifted his head, eyes locking with hers.
For the first time in her life, she saw Kang Do-yoon break.
Not fully.
Not loudly.
But the cracks were unmistakable.
His pupils blown.
His breath unsteady.
His hand shaking where it held her up.
"You don't know what you're doing to me," he said quietly, voice rough.
She looked up at him — lips parted, breath shallow, heat blooming uncontrollably across her skin.
"I told you," she whispered, "I'm not weak."
That… finished him.
His mouth found hers again — urgent now, consuming, desperate in a way he'd never allowed himself to be. She met him halfway, not seducing, not leading, but responding with instinctive, shaky need.
Her coat slipped from her shoulders, falling soundlessly onto the velvet chair behind her.
His hand slid up her back —
clutching fabric,
pulling her closer,
holding her steady.
Every movement stopped just before it could become explicit —
a dance of control and loss
balanced on a razor-thin line.
Her fingers curled into his collar, pulling him down as he breathed sharply against her lips. Their bodies pressed too close, too warm, the heat between them rising like a tide neither could fight anymore.
"Yeon-hwa…" he murmured, voice unravelling, "…I can't stop."
"Then don't."
That was all it took.
The restraint shattered.
And the rest —
the heat, the tangled breath, the way he held her,
the way she opened her hands to him,
the way their bodies met with trembling urgency —
His mouth crashed against hers again, and this time there was no hesitation—only heat, raw and consuming. Do-yoon guided her backward with slow, deliberate steps, never breaking the kiss, his hands firm around her waist as if afraid she might disappear if he let go. The edge of the table pressed into the backs of her thighs, anchoring her as his body aligned with hers, the tension between them tightening like a drawn bow. Her breath hitched, the room tilting as another pulse of heat tore through her, and she clung to him instinctively, her fingers twisting in his shirt.
"Tell me to stop," he rasped against her mouth, even as his hips pressed closer, the hard length of him unmistakable through layers of fabric.
Yeon-hwa's answer was a trembling whisper against his lips.
"I don't want you to."
A low, broken sound escaped him—half groan, half surrender—as his control disintegrated completely. His hands slid down the curve of her back, gripping her firmly as he pulled her flush against him, and the world narrowed to the scorch of his touch, the thunder of their hearts, and the desperate urgency knotting tightly between them.
As her legs trembled beneath her, Yeon-hwa felt the cool edge of the table pressing into her thighs, a stark contrast to the mounting heat radiating from Do-yoon's body so close to hers. His shirt bunched softly under her fingertips, the fabric warm from his skin, and she could sense the steady thrum of his heartbeat through it, matching the frantic rhythm of her own. The kiss lingered, his lips parting just enough to invite her in, the faint taste of mint and something deeper—perhaps the lingering spice of the evening's wine—dancing on her tongue as he explored with tender, deliberate strokes.
Do-yoon's breath mingled with hers, hot and uneven, each exhale brushing against her cheek like a whispered secret. His hand at her waist shifted slightly, fingers splaying across the curve of her hip with a gentleness that belied the tension coiling in his muscles. She arched into him instinctively, the aphrodisiac's fire tracing lazy paths along her nerves, making every point of contact electric. The air around them thickened, heavy with the scent of his cologne—dark cedar and subtle smoke—and her own, that warm vanilla now sharpened with the tang of arousal. A low murmur escaped from deep in his throat, not quite a word, but a sound that vibrated through her, pulling her deeper into the moment.
Her mind blurred at the edges as his thumb traced the line of her jaw, the touch featherlight yet igniting sparks that raced down her neck to pool in her core. She didn't pull away; instead, her fingers inched higher, brushing the bare skin at the collar of his shirt, feeling the subtle rise and fall of his chest. The world narrowed to just this—the press of his body, the soft slide of his lips, the way his restraint seemed to fracture bit by bit, revealing the raw need beneath. Yeon-hwa's pulse quickened, a flush creeping up her skin as she surrendered to the sensation, every breath a shared rhythm that bound them closer.
As her legs trembled beneath her, Yeon-hwa felt the cool edge of the table pressing into her thighs, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Do-yoon's body so close to hers. His shirt bunched softly beneath her fingertips, warm from his skin, his heartbeat thundering against her palms.
Their lips met again—deeper, hungrier.
A soft, broken sound escaped her as his mouth moved against hers, tasting her slowly, deliberately.
"Yeon-hwa…" he breathed against her lips, voice trembling, "I—God, I can't hold back."
Her fingers tightened in his shirt.
"Then don't," she whispered, breath shaking.
Do-yoon's control cracked visibly, his breath catching as his hand slid down, fingers splaying over the curve of her hip.
"You're burning up," he whispered into her neck, his lips brushing the sensitive skin. "Tell me if it's too much."
"It's not—" Her voice broke on a gasp as he pressed closer, the solid length of him unmistakable through fabric. "I… I want this."
A low groan vibrated against her skin.
"Don't say things like that," he growled softly, "I'll lose myself."
"You already did," she breathed, trembling.
His hands roamed upward, tracing the arch of her back, and she arched helplessly into the touch.
"Do-yoon—" her voice shook, "please…"
He lifted her onto the table, his hips pressing forward, the friction sending shockwaves through her.
"Ah—" she gasped, head falling back, "too tight—"
His movements slowed immediately, forehead resting against hers.
"Look at me," he whispered. "Tell me how."
"Just… not too deep yet," she managed, breathless.
"Okay," he murmured roughly, kissing her jaw gently, "I'll go slow."
But the moment her hips lifted into his instinctively, he groaned, voice breaking.
"Yeon-hwa, you're going to kill me."
Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.
"I need more," she whispered, trembling. "Don't stop."
That was all it took.
He swept her into his arms, lips never leaving hers as he guided her back toward the bed, laying her gently against the soft duvet. His hands slid under her blouse, freeing the lace of her bra, thumbs brushing her hardened peaks until she cried out softly.
"Nngh— Do-yoon—" her voice cracked, nails scraping his shoulders.
His mouth closed around her breast, sucking slowly, intensely.
"Shh," he murmured against her skin, breath hot, "I've got you."
Her thighs clenched involuntarily.
"Please—move—"
He lifted his head, eyes dark with unrestrained hunger.
"You sound so desperate," he whispered, voice thick, "I don't think I can slow down anymore."
"Then don't," she breathed, leaning up to kiss him.
His hips rolled forward, pressing against her core through the thin fabric.
"Oh—God—" she cried softly, "too deep—wait—"
He stilled instantly, chest heaving.
"Tell me if it hurts," he rasped, thumb brushing her cheek.
"It doesn't," she whispered, voice shaking. "I… I'm just not…" She swallowed. "Go slower first."
"Okay," he breathed, voice breaking, "I'll take care of you."
He pressed into her again—slower this time, deeper, deliberate—
and a soft sob escaped her lips.
"Do-yoon— feels— so—"
"So tight," he groaned, jaw clenched. "You're gripping me whole—God—"
Her hands clutched him harder.
"Don't stop," she begged, voice cracking, "please don't stop."
His pace quickened, movements growing harder, rougher, his control unraveling.
"Relax for me," he murmured.
"I'm trying—" she gasped, "I— I can't—"
"Look at me."
His hand lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his fevered gaze.
"Stay with me."
Their bodies moved together—urgent, desperate—until the tension snapped violently, white-hot and consuming, dragging them both over the edge.
Kang Do-yoon's hands, once so steady, now trembled as they roamed over the curve of her back, his fingers tracing the delicate arch of her spine through the thin satin of her blouse, each touch igniting sparks that raced across her skin like wildfire. Yeon-hwa arched into him, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts, the heat from his body seeping into hers, making her feel as though she were melting, her resolve dissolving into the heavy air around them. His lips brushed her neck, not a kiss but a graze, soft and tentative at first, sending a shiver down her arms that made her fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer with a need that surprised even her.
The room seemed to fade away—the dim glow of the lamps casting long shadows, the faint scent of rain from the open window mingling with the musky warmth of their shared breath—as he pressed against her, his hardness evident through the layers of clothing, a insistent pressure that made her pulse quicken and her thighs clench involuntarily. She could feel him, solid and unyielding, as his hips shifted subtly, seeking friction, and a low moan escaped her lips, unbidden, vibrating through the space between them. His hand slid lower, caressing the small of her back, then hesitating at the waistband of her skirt, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin just above it in slow, deliberate circles that left trails of fire in their wake. Yeon-hwa's head fell back slightly, exposing more of her neck to his exploring mouth, her body responding with a surge of heat that pooled low in her belly, making her gasp as he nipped gently at her pulse point, the sensation sharp and thrilling.