YIREN
A swarm of butterflies stirs in my stomach as Jun settles between my legs. He smells... so good, like he's carrying his own irresistible cologne beneath the herbal oil I've just massaged into his shoulder. I press play, but my attention isn't on The Lion King. Not even close. I press my fingers deeper into his muscles, and when he groans, a shiver rolls through me, my pulse quickening.
He's sitting here between my legs, my legs around him, and it's enough to send my mind spinning into all kinds of forbidden territory. My core clenches, and I desperately want to cross my legs, but there's no way with him sitting between them. I tell myself it's dangerous to feel this pull toward him—a man like Jun isn't a casual hookup. He's the kind of man who makes you fall hard and never lets you go. But love? That hurts. That makes you miserable. And I'm not sure I want to risk being miserable like mom ever when she forgot about Papa due to her illness.
