Taesan Fanfic | You met me in the prologue of youth - 11. I told you not to go

Tae-san muttered in a hoarse voice, tightening his grip on the wrist he had seized around Yeoju’s wrist. Pulled by that recoil, Yeoju crashed straight into Tae-san’s arms with a thud, and before long her back lightly touched the front door.

Thudㅡ

She was pushed against the front door, completely cutting off any route of retreat.

Tae-san’s face, still flushed red from the heat that hadn’t quite faded, and Yeoju’s eyes, their pupils trembling wide from the sudden ambush, nearly touched. They were close enough for their breaths to mingle.

김여주

Ta, Tae-san...?

한태산

Do you really know you drive people crazy?

Tae-san’s low, heavy voice struck her ear. Gone was any trace of his usual grumbling manner; his gaze was burning with fierce, sticky heat.

The moment Yeoju, flustered, parted her lips, Tae-san lowered his head without hesitation.

Under his relentless push that allowed no distance, their lips finally met.

김여주

Ugh...!

It was the moment her breath caught in her throat. Tae-san’s kiss, slipping between Yeoju’s slightly parted lips, was so deep and hot it was hard to believe this was a sick man. As his lips pressed against hers, rough yet careful, it felt like her mind was being wiped completely blank.

As the startled Yeoju shrank back and tightly grabbed Tae-san’s clothes, Tae-san snatched that hand and firmly pinned it to the front-door wall. Then he put even more force into the hand around her waist.

A thrill even more dizzying and electric than that instant when she had been gasping for air underwater ran through her whole body.

How long had it been? Only after Tae-san’s breath turned ragged did he slowly pull his lips away.

Yeoju panted with dazed eyes, covering her reddened lips slightly, and Tae-san, too, steadied his rough breathing and swept his thumb over the damp corner of Yeoju’s eye. Looking down at her with heat-soaked eyes, Tae-san gave a low, eerie smile.

한태산

You can’t escape now, Kim Yeoju.

The night of eighteen, pouring through the gap between the closed doors in front of the cold entrance, was growing hotter and deeper than anyone could stop.