The door clicks shut.

Jeon-wo’s hands are on my shoulders, guiding me onto the bed. I don’t resist. My heart hammers like it wants out. He looms over me, bare-chested, water still glistening on his skin. The towel around his waist does nothing to hide what’s underneath.

I should look away. I don’t.

Five minutes ago, I tripped in the hallway. He caught me. The towel slipped. I saw everything. And instead of pulling back, I kissed him.

Now we’re here.

His voice is low. “Min-woo. Look at me.”

I do. His eyes are dark, steady. Waiting.

“This isn’t right,” I say. My voice shakes. “Dohan—”

“I know.”

“You’re his father.”

“I know.”

“And I’ve never even… with a man…”

“I know that too.” He cups my face. “But you want this.”

I don’t answer. I can’t lie.

He leans down. His breath hits my lips. “Say it.”

My throat tightens. This is the moment. One word and he stops. One move and I’m free.

Instead, I close my eyes.

And lift my head.

Our lips meet. Hard. Hot. His hand fists in my hair. I gasp into his mouth. He tastes like mint and danger.

He pulls back just enough to speak. “No more running.”

I swallow. Nod.

“Tell me what you want.”

The truth spills out. “You. Like this. Now.”

He stands, strips off the towel. Steps out of his pants. Fully naked. Massive. Unapologetic.

He climbs onto the bed. Over me. One hand pins both my wrists above my head.

“First time,” he says. Not a question.

I nod again.

“Mine,” he says.

Then he kisses me like he’s claiming something long lost.

Somewhere downstairs, a car door slams.

We freeze.

Footsteps echo in the foyer.

Dohan’s voice calls out, “Hyung? Appa? You home?”