Without hesitation, he explores further, nipping gently at my neck before tracing kisses down my collarbone and across my chest, my body instinctively arching into him as my breath hitches in my throat. Shin groans, his fingers finding the hem of my jeans and tugging them down slowly, inch by tantalizing inch.
I gasp as his palm slides over my bare skin. He pushes my panties aside, his fingers dancing across my wet folds. He slips one inside me, finding my entrance, already slick with anticipation, and I cry out, bucking my hips against his hand.
This isn’t the gentle Shin I know. This is a man who has been waiting, and his patience has finally run out. He groans low in his throat, pressing deeper and finding the spot with precision, and a jolt of pleasure courses through my body.
I writhe and call his name, “Shin…” I moan into his mouth, my body continuing to arch into his touch, begging for more.
He breaks the kiss, and for a terrifying second I think he’s stopping, but he just reaches for the nightstand. The sound of a condom wrappertearing is the loudest thing in the room. He never breaks eye contact as he sheathes himself and then pushes inside me.
I gasp at the sudden, perfect fullness. He starts a slow, rhythmic thrust, each movement sending a deep thrum of pleasure through my core.
It feels so right. And so… good.
As he moves faster, I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him in closer. The world around us disappears once more. All that exists is our shared rhythm, our pounding hearts, and his name on my lips.
His hips continue to move, filling me completely before pulling back, only to thrust forward again, hard and fast. His other hand slips between our bodies to stroke my clit in time with his thrusts, driving me crazy.
With each thrust, I feel myself getting closer, the heat of his touch burning through me. My nails dig into his shoulders, and he groans in response, pulling me closer still.
“Shin!” I cry, feeling my release.
He pushes into me one final time, grunting as he releases inside me and holds me tightly against him.
Our chests heave together, our hearts pounding wildly as we catch our breath, finally coming down from the heights of our passion.
We lie together in the quiet aftermath, tangled in sheets, the only sounds our ragged breaths and the frantic rhythm of our hearts slowly returning to normal.
Shin’s arms wrap around me like a tight, comforting cage. He kisses my forehead, a soft, lingering touch that is a world away from the burning lust that had consumed us moments before.
He breaks the silence, his voice a rough, exhausted whisper against my hair.
“You know,” he says, as if stating a simple, observable fact—like the time of day, “for eight years, I’ve had a front-row seat to your entire life.”
He pulls back just enough for me to see the profound, unwavering seriousness in his eyes.
“And for eight years, my actual full-time job wasn’t managing your career.”
He taps his chest lightly, right over his heart. “It was managing this.”
A startled, breathless laugh escapes me, muffled against his shirt. Of all the things he couldhave said, that’s the most absurd, the most unexpected—and the most perfectly, wonderfully Shin. He’s not making a grand declaration of love; he’s just… reporting a fact. An eight-year fact he’d held close, hidden behind a calm exterior—until now.
It’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.
I tilt my head back to look at him, a real, genuine grin spreading across my face.
“Now you don’t need to manage it anymore,” I say, poking him in the ribs. “Because I’m officially promoting you.”
He lets out a deep, relieved laugh that vibrates through my whole body and pulls me closer, burying his face in the curve of my neck.
After a moment, he whispers, almost shyly, “Next time… let’s go to another, more beautiful beach.”
“Where?” I ask.
“Jeju,” he says softly.
My chest tightens at the thought of Jeju. Every memory I’ve tried to push away—the letters that never came, the birthdays she missed, the ghost of my mother’s absence that has haunted me—surges to the surface.
“We’ll go together,” he whispers, his thumb brushing over mine. “Walk the beaches, taste the tangerines, see her. You don’t have to face it alone.”
