The luxury mall gleamed under golden lights, filled with the hum of conversations and the occasional chime of designer store doors opening and closing. Jeon Jae Joon walked beside me, his presence commanding, his tailored black suit crisp and flawless. His hand rested on my lower back, firm but casual, guiding me through the endless boutiques.

Shopping with him was always an experience—he never asked if I wanted something. If my gaze lingered, it was mine. Simple as that.

But today, he had something specific in mind.

We stopped in front of an elegant lingerie store, the window display filled with delicate lace and silk. His fingers tapped against my hip. “Go inside,” he murmured, voice smooth, unreadable.

I hesitated before obeying, stepping into the boutique. Soft music played overhead, the scent of vanilla and jasmine filling the air. The store attendants greeted me warmly, leading me toward the finest selections. My fingers trailed over lace, silk, sheer mesh—delicate, elegant, but daring.

Finally, I settled on a black set.

Jae Joon sat in the lounge, one leg crossed, his gaze locking on me. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just watched. Slowly, his eyes dragged over me, lingering on how the silk clung to my figure. His jaw tensed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

Then, he exhaled sharply. “We’ll take it,” he said, controlled.

—

Later that night—

The movie played, but neither of us was watching. I curled up beside him, my head on his shoulder, his arm resting lazily around me. His fingers traced idle circles on my hip.

It was peaceful. Comfortable.

Until I shifted.

The movement was innocent, but how my body pressed against him made him freeze.

His grip tightened for a second. His breathing, once steady, turned heavier. I felt it—the tension, the way his muscles locked up.

Then, a sharp exhale.

I looked up. “Jae Joon?”

His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes clouded. His fingers curled, gripping my shirt.

He rubbed a hand down his face, looking away. “Nothing,” he muttered.