♡Back home
He dragged me into the study like a storm, eyes blazing, hands burning. The door slammed shut behind us. My back hit the wall before I could speak. His hand landed beside my head with a loud thud—caging me in.
"Why do you always test me?" Taehyun asked, his voice low and trembling with fury.
"Because you never break, Taehyun," I said, grinning through my rapid heartbeat. "You never let go. I want to see what happens when you do."
His eyes darkened. Something inside him snapped. He wasn't holding back anymore.
"You think this is a game, huh?" Taehyun said. "Flirting with Minho, dancing like that—wearing that dress. Just to make me burn."
I tilted my chin and asked, "Did it work?"
He grabbed my waist with one arm and lifted me slightly off the ground, slamming his mouth near my neck but not touching yet—just his breath teasing my skin.
"I'm a man, not a saint," Taehyun growled. "And you—my wife—are playing with fire. I'll show you what happens when you provoke a man who already lost himself in you."
He kissed me. Not gentle. Not soft. It was possession, punishment, passion—everything at once. His hands gripped my waist like he was afraid I'd disappear. I moaned against his lips, shocked by the intensity.
He pulled away just enough to stare into my dazed eyes.
"You belong to me," Taehyun said. "I don't share. Not even in glances. Do you understand that?"
"I do now," I replied, breathless and smiling.
His thumb brushed my swollen lip. His voice softened, but the storm was still behind his eyes.
"Next time you play games like that, I won't stop at just a kiss," Taehyun said.
I grabbed his collar, smirking. "Then maybe I'll play again."
He chuckled darkly and said, "Oh, wifey… You just declared war."
___
His lips moved slowly over mine this time. No rush. Just heat. One hand cupped my jaw, the other slipped behind my waist, pulling me impossibly close. I could barely breathe. Every time I thought I'd get used to his kisses, he changed the pace, the rhythm—like he was rewiring my nerves.
And just when I started to kiss him back properly—truly melting into it—
KNOCK. KNOCK.
"Hyung! Open up! We heard noises—are you killing her or what?!" Junho's voice pierced through the moment like a cold slap.
Taehyun groaned against my lips. "Aishh!—"
KNOCK.
"Yah! If you broke her or something, I'll sue your whole existence!" Now it was Jinwoo.
And was that Minho chuckling?
I blinked, still breathless and tangled in Taehyun's arms. "Tell them to shut up," I whispered, completely flushed.
But instead, he leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear. "Should I tell them their sister-in-law bit me mid-kiss?"
I gasped and smacked his chest. "Don't you dare!"
His smirk was evil. "Why not? You were very enthusiastic for someone who claims she doesn't know how."
"I panicked! It was a reflex!" I argued.
Another knock came. "I'm coming in if you don't answer in five!" Junho warned.
Taehyun cursed under his breath, then reluctantly stepped back. He looked just as breathless as me. Fixing his hair with one hand, he strolled over to the door and opened it with the calm of a saint.
"She bit me," Taehyun said flatly.
"Yah!" I shouted from behind, grabbing a pillow and throwing it. "You're dead!"
Minho caught the pillow midair, raised an eyebrow, and smirked. Junho just looked horrified. "Ew, TMI! You guys are insane!"
Taehyun turned back to me, that devilish glint still in his eyes. "Lesson's not over," he mouthed.
And then? He shut the door. Slowly.
Click.
And suddenly the room felt much, much hotter again.
🖤 Our Bedroom — Breathless, Blushing, But Still Me
"Wait—Tae, stop," I panted, pressing my palm against his chest.
My heart was racing. My lungs begged for air. My mind screamed for logic.
But none of that mattered because his touch… it burned.
"I can't—breathe," I whispered, half-laughing, half-crying from nerves.
He leaned his forehead against mine, lips barely touching. "You okay?"
No. I wasn't.
How could I be okay?
This was him. Kim Taehyun. My professor once. That infuriating, 32-year-old man who used to intimidate the entire university with just a look—and now here he was, holding me like I was something fragile.
And me? I was the little girl in oversized clothes. Always arguing. Always rolling my eyes. Always pretending I wasn't falling.
But now?
Now, every inch of me reacted to his presence.
His scent made my head dizzy.
His low voice curled around my spine like silk.
His name made my chest ache in ways I didn't want to admit.
He cupped my cheek again. "Tell me to stop, and I'll stop."
I blinked up at him. "You already stopped."
He smiled softly, brushing his thumb along
my lower lip. "You bit me."
I groaned.
"I didn't mean to. My nervous system short-circuited. That's your fault!"
He chuckled. "So now I'm blamed for being kissable?"
"Old man!" I snapped, poking his chest.
"You're supposed to be wise and patient and doing taxes—not seducing your tiny wife!"
"You think I'm old?" His tone dropped—
dangerously soft.
Oh no.
I took a step back, but hit the bed behind me.
"W-well—comparatively speaking—"
He took a step forward.
"You're what? Twelve?"
"I'm twenty! You—AH!"
He suddenly pulled me by the waist, making me fall back onto the bed with him on top.
"You keep calling me old," he murmured against my ear, "but I'm the only one who can handle that sharp tongue of yours."
I gasped. Flushed red. Squirmed.
"I didn't mean—!"
"Too late," he grinned, lips brushing my jaw. "Now let me prove how dangerous an 'old man' can be."
I tried to protest again—but my voice
disappeared somewhere between his kisses
and my hammering heart.
I should've been embarrassed.
I should've stopped him.
But instead?
I closed my eyes and whispered his name.
Because maybe, just maybe...
I was already in love.
Even if I pretended not to be.
Even if I acted like a stubborn little girl with a venomous tongue.
Even if I still couldn't say the words.
He felt it.
He always did.
I swallowed hard.
"Taehyun—"
His eyes flicked to mine, dark and unreadable. His jaw clenched once.
"Say one more thing that drives me mad, and I swear—"
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
Because the next second, he crashed his lips onto mine.
I froze.
Not because I didn't want it.
But because… I'd never been kissed like that before. With hunger. With heat. Like I was the very oxygen he needed. His lips moved fiercely, claiming mine without hesitation—and my heart? It slammed against my ribs like it was trying to run away.
My hands gripped his shirt instinctively.
I tried to keep up, I really did—but the tension, the closeness, the rawness of it all—
I bit his lower lip again.
Not hard. Just a sudden nervous nibble. Maybe out of panic. Maybe because my stupid nervous system short-circuited. Or maybe... maybe I simply didn't know how to kiss.
He paused.
Pulled back slightly.
His eyes searched mine—shocked? Amused? Turned on?
I stood there, lips parted, cheeks blazing red.
"I-I didn't mean to…" I stammered, embarrassed. "I think—maybe—I don't know how to—"
He let out a soft, husky chuckle. Not mocking—just dark and dangerously amused.
"You don't know how to kiss?"
I glared, trying to salvage the remains of my pride.
"I bit you, didn't I? What do you think?"
His thumb brushed against the corner of my lips. His voice dropped lower.
"Then I'll teach you… every night, if I have to."
And before I could react, he leaned in again—this time slower, deeper—like a lesson made of fire and silk.
And God, I didn't mind learning from him.