Affair with My Father's Friend

Jimin POV

I shouldn’t be here.

I should’ve handed over the file and walked right back out the door like a good, respectful son.

But when Kim Taehyung opened the door—hair still damp, shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the firm chest beneath—I forgot all about being good.

His eyes dragged over me lazily, like he didn’t expect me but didn’t mind the surprise either.

“Your father sent you?” he asked, voice husky with sleep and something darker.

“Yeah…” I swallowed, holding out the folder like it could shield me. “He said it was urgent.”

Taehyung didn’t take it.

Instead, he stepped back, letting me in with a small, crooked smirk. “Come inside, Jimin.”

God, the way he said my name.

I followed, trying not to stare too hard at the way his sweats hung low on his hips, or how the muscles in his forearms flexed as he leaned on the kitchen counter.

“So,” he said, finally taking the folder and setting it on the counter without opening it. “How’s university treating you?”

“Fine,” I muttered, eyes dropping to the marble counter. Then rising, bold. “Lonely.”

His brow lifted, amused. “That sounds like a dangerous thing to say. Especially to me.”

“Is it?” I tilted my head. “Would you take advantage?”

Taehyung laughed—a low, rich sound that made the pit of my stomach tighten. “You’ve changed.”

“Maybe I just stopped pretending.”

We stared at each other. The room was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the fridge and my reckless heartbeat.

He moved first—closer, slow and calm, but his eyes burned. He stopped a breath away, fingers reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

"You always were a flirt," he murmured, his voice sliding down my spine like silk.

"Maybe I flirt because I want something."

"And what do you want?"

I looked up at him, locking our gaze.

“You.”

He didn’t answer.

He just kissed me.

It wasn’t gentle—it was hot, demanding, full of years of restraint cracking at once. His lips stole my breath, his hands gripping my waist and pulling me closer.

I moaned into his mouth, fingers clutching the front of his shirt as he walked me backward, until the backs of my thighs hit the kitchen counter.

He lifted me effortlessly, setting me on the cold surface, never breaking the kiss.

His mouth moved to my jaw, then my neck, leaving trails of fire with every brush of his lips.

“You taste dangerous,” he whispered, biting gently at my collarbone.

“And you… taste like trouble,” I gasped.

His fingers slid under my shirt, slowly exploring the soft skin beneath. “You want to play with fire, baby boy?”

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him against me.

“I want to burn.”

Taehyung's mouth crashed into mine again, deeper this time, tongue exploring like he wanted to memorize every inch. My body arched into him, dizzy with the heat.

Then he stopped—just for a second—his eyes on mine.

“I should stop.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because you’re too damn tempting.”

He kissed me again, softer now but no less intense. One hand cupped my jaw while the other traced circles on my thigh.

I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

And then he whispered:

“Next time, bring the file. But leave the innocence at the door.”

[To be continued...]

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