The next time Minho returned, he was out of breath and his cheeks were tinged pink from being out in the cold. Taerim had been pacing while she waited for him to get back, horribly anxious, knowing her fate was on the line, that her life depended on the conversation he was listening in on.

When he burst in the door, she rushed to him. “Minho!” she cried, unable to hold back because of her nerves. “What happened? What did they say?”

To her surprise, Minho clamped his hands on her shoulders and pushed her against the wall between the door and his bed. “Taemin,” he said, his dark eyes boring into hers. “Taemin,” he said again like he just wanted to feel the name on his tongue. “Did Jongin do anything to you?”

Taerim shrank away inside. “Do.... something?”

“Yes.” The concern in his eyes was almost tangible. “When he was here earlier. Did he do anything... to you? Are you hurt anywhere? Did he hurt you?”

How could he know about the kiss? Taerim couldn't lie, so she went for a half-truth. “He didn't hurt me... no...”

Minho sighed, relieved. “Thank God,” he murmured. His head dropped forward until his forehead rested against Taerim's. “I was worried.”

Taerim's heart pounded, but she forced the words out with relative success. “Worried... why?”

“Don't think about it,” Minho said. “It was nothing. Just some idiot lying about you.” He brought his hands up and cradled her head, looking into her eyes. “I'm glad you're here,” he said, as heartfelt as could be. “I'm so glad, Taemin.”

This time, she saw the kiss coming. She saw it a mile away. Minho gently tilted her head upward and pressed his lips against hers, lips that were every bit as soft as they had been before but a little cooler from the night air.

The kiss was as fleeting as it had been before, but this time when Minho pulled away, a soft blush blooming across his cheeks, Taerim hadn't had enough.

“That's it?” she murmured. His expression of confusion was too adorable, so she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck and kissed him again.

This time, she didn't let him go. At first, his mouth was unmoving in surprise, but Taerim made those soft lips move in her favor, made it so he couldn't help but let his glorious lips form to hers, move with hers, part when she demanded entrance into his mouth.

One of his hands was at the back of her head, entwined in her short hair, the other pressed against the small of her back, involuntarily pushing her towards him. Everywhere he touched her, he drew lines of fire. Taerim obeyed his hands, pressed herself to him as their tongues met, at first tenatively, then eagerly.

When he pushed her against the wall again, Taerim unlaced her clasped hands from behind his neck and let them slide over his shoulders and down his chest, acutely aware of the contours of his body, of the way she could feel raw muscle through his button-up. She let her hands wander to the hem of his shirt as they kissed, slid her hands tentatively up under the thin fabric.

The moment her hands came into contact with Minho's skin, he moaned against her lips (a sound that made her entire body ache with pent-up excitement) and broke away, a little out of breath.

“Taemin,” he gasped. “Are you... are you sure about this?”

He should have known it was the gasp that turned her on. Taerim was fairly certain that she had never been more sure about anything in her life. She laughed a little because it was such an absurd question. “Of course I'm sure.” She smiled up at him, allowing a mischievous twinkle into her eye. “Are you sure?” Still looking up at him, she began to unfasten his button-up from the bottom, lingering over each button as she saw his resolve crumble step by step. When the shirt was completely undone, she pressed her hands against his bare chest experimentally. His skin was smooth and warm, and she could feel his pulse galloping beneath it.

“Very sure,” she assured him. “But I'm having a little trouble breathing. Mind helping?”

He was kissing her hair, and judging by his migration he didn't know what she meant at first. She thought he would freeze up and blush himself to death when he realized what she was asking, but he didn't. Almost immediately, he slid his hand underneath her chin again to tilt her face up so he could force his lips on her, letting his other hand slip down her back to the hem of her shirt. He made her put her arms up so he could pull it over her head and throw it to the ground far away, far enough away that thoughts of picking it up and putting it back on couldn't be entertained. The moment the shirt was gone, Minho pulled her the two steps to his bed, pushing her down to lie on her back on the mussed-up bedclothes as he leaned over her, taking charge in a way that she wouldn't have expected from him but she couldn't deny appealed to her immensely. She felt his fingers, hot against her bare skin, trail their way across her abdomen, tracing the top of her basketball shorts so suggestively that Taerim's breath hitched.

“What do you want, Taemin?” Minho asked, his voice lower, huskier than usual. Just the sound of it made Taerim shiver with anticipation. He nipped her collarbone lightly, trailing his lips down her chest, so tantalizingly that Taerim couldn't help writhing a little.

“I – I want...” she stuttered. “I want you to get this... ing chest band off right. now.”