Jiyong

Her words echo in my head. I trust you. She’s the first girl who’s ever said that to me. Even Yoona said I had to earn her trust when we first met, because she thought I was a player.

And here’s Dara, a girl who knows I’ll never be her knight in shining armor, gifting me with her trust without hesitation. She’s straddling me, her lips wet from our kisses. She’s crazy to think I’ll do the right thing.

My hands are still cradling her face. I respect this girl too much to be dishonest. “Don’t trust me.”

A pink blush creeps up her cheeks as she reaches behind her head and pulls that band out of her hair. “But I do.”

She shakes out her hair. It falls in a curtain over her shoulders, the ends landing just above her s. I’ve never seen anythin’ ier in my life, and she’s not even yet.

Yet? What am I thinkin’? I’m not gettin’ her . I want to. Hell, I’d love to peel away the layers and study the curves of her body with my eyes and hands. My body says Go for it! You want it. She wants it. What’s the problem?

The problem is that damn word . . . trust.

She trusts me.

I squeeze my eyes shut. What can I say to prove to her I’m the bad boy she knows I am? She’d be stupid to trust me. I’ll take advantage of her every chance I get, but how can I prove that to her?

Knowing how ready I am to take this to the next level might scare her off. I reach around and grab her , then grind against her in a way that makes no mistake of my intent.

Problem is, she starts moving with me. Damn. This is not good. She’s definitely got power over me. I thrive on control, but right now I’ve totally lost it.

I pull her toward me and press her body to mine, my hands feelin’ up and down her back. Our heavy breathing is filling the room. I’m glad the movie is still on to mask any sounds we’re making.

I lean back and look into her trusting face.

“You gotta stop before this gets out of hand, ’cause I won’t.” I’m ignoring the fact that we’ve already gotten out of hand and she doesn’t look the least bit ready to stop.

She stills and presses her cheek to mine. “I’m a ,” she whispers in my ear as if it’s a secret she’s only going to share with me.

Oh, hell.

I lean my head back on the couch and tell her the truth. “You’re not actin’ like one.”

“That’s because it’s you, Jiyong. Only you do this to me.”
 

Power shift. She shouldn’t have said that. Now I know I have control, if not physically, at least mentally. Givin’ me control isn’t a wise move on her part.

I’m taking this girl to the danger zone, but that’s where I’m used to spendin’ most of my life.

My hands inch over to her waist.
 

“Take your shirt off, baby.”
 

Her hands go to the bottom of her shirt. The anticipation of seeing what she’s hiding underneath makes me hold my breath. I look up into her face, her eyes filled with uncertainty and something else I refuse to acknowledge.

In one swift movement, she lifts her oversized T-shirt over her head and reveals a body to kill for or die for. Or both.

“I don’t have a body like Sohee’s,” she says shyly, her hands crossing her midsection in an effort to hide it.

“What?”

I gently remove her hands and hold them lightly at her sides. I lean back and stare, completely dumbfounded, at her pink bra modestly covering her s. She’s got nothin’ to be embarrassed about. This girl has got it goin’ on and has no clue she’s got a better body than Sohee, hands down. Dara’s got curves where God intended them to be, and I have the urge to caress those curves and memorize every inch of her. I feel like the luckiest guy on earth.
 

“. . . you’re beautiful.”

Her eyes are cast downward. “Look at me, baby.” When she does, I repeat, “You’re beautiful.” She leans forward and trails little kisses across my lips. “Your turn,” she whispers, then bites her bottom lip as she waits for me to strip off my shirt.

I immediately toss my shirt to the side.

“Can I touch you?” she asks, as if she doesn’t have complete owner-ship of my body at this moment.

I take her hand in mine and guide her to my bare skin. When I let go so she can explore on her own, her fingers trail slow paths up and down my chest. Each touch sears my skin from the inside out, and when her fingers linger on the tattoo peeking out of my jeans and dip into the waistband, it’s almost my undoing. (A/N: just adding another tattoo hehe)

“What does that say?” she asks as she lightly traces one of my tattoos.

“Dragon,” I tell her. My fingers weave into her hair and I lean her toward me. I need to taste her again. I need to feel her soft lips on mine. We start making out like it’s the first time and maybe our last, our breaths and tongues collide almost desperately.

While she continues her exploration, I focus all my attention on her. I slide her bra straps down until they fall loosely on her arms. She leans back and I can’t imagine a ier image or a ier girl than the one sitting atop me. My pulse quickens in hot anticipation as I slide the silky fabric aside.

Her fingers go still as my hands touch the sides of her waist and slide up until my thumbs reach the curve of her . Nothing could prepare me for the wave of emotions I’m feeling right now as I look into Dara’s sparkling eyes.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” she says so softly it might be my imagination, then I hear the sound of gunfire.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

In a frenzied panic, I pull Dara down on the couch and lay atop her to save her from danger.

I look up, confused. Wait, nobody is in the room besides us. What the hell?

I look at the television screen and see the hero of the movie standing over the body of a dead guy with blood streaming out of his chest. The gunshots were coming from the television.

I look back at a stunned, scared, half- Dara.

“Sorry,” I say, moving off her and shifting to the other side of the couch. “Sorry. It was only the TV.” My heart is beating faster than a drum at a rock concert. When I heard the gunshots I’d have done anything to protect her life. Even if it meant sacrificing my own. The thought of losing her in the same way I lost my father and almost lost Seunghyun is just too much. I’m practically hyperventilating from the thought of it.

.

I broke my number one rule: never get emotionally involved.

Whatever happened to foolin’ around only with girls who want nothin’ more than a good time? The word “sarang,” or the English equivalent, “love,” isn’t in my vocabulary. I’m not boyfriend material. If you want love and commitment, don’t come knockin’ at my door. I have to get out before I’m in too deep.

“It’s okay.” She sits up and leans over me, her body too close. I can’t think straight when I can feel the heat of her body penetrate mine. I feel claustrophobic and trapped. I have to get out of here.

I gently move her away so there’s distance between us.

“No, it’s not okay. This isn’t okay.” My reaction to the gunshots puts everything back into perspective. I can’t do this with Dara. I press my palms against my eyes and breathe out a frustrated sigh. “Cover yourself,” I say, then pick up her shirt.

When I toss the oversized T-shirt to her, I tell myself to avoid meeting her gaze. I don’t want to see the hurt in her eyes and know I was the one who put it there.

“I w-w-wanted th-th-this,” she stutters in a shaky voice. “Y-y-you d-d-did, t-t-too.”

. Now she’s so emotional she can hardly get a word out without stumbling all over it. It would be better for her to hate me than fall in love with me.

“Yeah, well, I want a girl who’ll around with me, not declare her undying love.”

“I d-d-didn’t—”

I put up a hand, stopping her. I know what she’s gonna say, that she never said this would turn into something more. “You said you were fallin’ in love with me, and that’s the last thing a guy like me needs to hear. Admit it, Dara. Girls like you want to cut guys’ nuts off and hang ’em from your rearview mirror.”

I’m rambling like a complete idiot, the words streaming out of my mouth without my even thinking about what I’m saying. I know I’m hurting