Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Ye Jun

He shifted away. I followed.

“Problem?” I whispered while some guy droned on about quarterly projections.

He didn’t look at me. “Move your leg.”

“Why? It’s comfortable.” I slid my foot up his calf slow.

He grabbed my knee under the table, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. “I said move.”

I bit my lip to keep from gasping, but leaned closer. “Harder. I like it.”

He yanked his hand back like I’d burned him, face flushing red, and for the rest of the meeting he wouldn’t even glance my way, just stared at the projector screen like it was the most fascinating thing ever.

When it ended, everyone filed out, but I hung back, waiting until we were alone.

“Good meeting,” I said, blocking the door. “You were so focused. Thinking about me?”

He tried to push past. “Move.”

“Make me.” I grabbed his arm. “Or kiss me. Your choice.”

He shoved me against the wall, breath hot on my face. “You think this is funny? Pushing me all day like a desperate whore? It won’t make me treat you better just so you know! ”

“Yeah,” I shot back, heart racing. “And you love it. Look at you hard just from my leg on yours.”

He glanced down, then back up, eyes dark. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” I reached for his belt.

He slapped my hand away. “Not here.”

“Then where? Your office? Mine? The bathroom?” I laughed bitter. “Pick a spot. I’m free all afternoon.”

He stared, chest heaving, then turned and left without a word.

I sagged against the wall, rubbing my knee where his fingers had dug in, the ache mixing with this stupid thrill because yeah, he was cracking, I could see it in the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes anymore.

But it hurt too, hurt that he kept pulling back, like wanting me was some weakness he couldn’t afford, and here I was throwing myself at him like an idiot, begging for scraps.

Fuck that. I wasn’t done.

Later, I caught him in the hallway near the elevators, talking to some intern about a project.

I walked up, interrupted mid-sentence. “Sir, need you for a sec. Urgent.”

The intern blinked. “Uh, should I… ”

“Go,” Si-woo snapped at her, then turned to me. “What?”

I yanked him into the empty copy room, door clicking shut. “This.”

Pushed him against the machine, kissed him hard, teeth clashing, hands in his hair.

He froze for a second, then kissed back furious, one hand fisting my shirt, the other on my ass pulling me closer.

Yes, I thought, grinding against him, finally…

Then he shoved me off, wiping his mouth. “Enough.”

“No,” I panted. “Not enough. You want more. Take it.”

“You’re pathetic,” he spat, but his voice shook. “Chasing me like this.”

“Yeah? Then why’d you kiss back?” I stepped forward. “Why’s your dick hard every time I touch you?”

“Because you’re a slut about it.” He grabbed my chin. “But I’m not falling for your games.”

I licked his thumb. “Too late.”

He groaned, shoved me away again, and bolted out the door.

I laughed to myself in the empty room, but it came out choked because damn, that kiss had me wrecked, lips bruised, and he just left like it was nothing.

Asshole.

The rest of the day I kept it up texts from my office: “Thinking about you bending me over your desk?” with a winky emoji.

He replied: “Delete this.”

Me: “Make me.”

No response.

Then I “accidentally” emailed him a report with a post-it note stuck on: “Miss your hands on me.”

He stormed into my office an hour later, door slamming. “What the fuck is this?”

I leaned back in my chair, smirking. “A reminder.”

He crumpled the note, threw it at me. “Stop. Now. Or I’ll… ”

“You’ll what? Fire me? Can’t. Fuck me? Won’t.” I stood, crowding him. “So what, hyung? Gonna hit me? Go ahead. I might like it.”

His fists clenched. “You’re insane.”

“Your fault.” I grabbed his tie, yanked. “Fix it.”

He batted my hand away. “No.”

Then he left again.

By closing time, I was exhausted horny, angry, sad all mixed up because every rejection stung worse than the last, like he was carving pieces out of me with each shove, but I couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, because giving up meant he won for real.

I packed my bag slow, figuring he’d already gone home to jerk off alone or whatever he did to ignore this.

But then my door banged open, and there he was tie askew, hair messed like he’d been running hands through it, eyes wild.

“Get up,” he said, voice rough.

“Why?” I snapped, but my heart jumped.

He grabbed my arm, yanked me out of the chair. “We’re going.”

“Going where? Hey…. ”

He dragged me down the hall, ignoring my protests, fingers bruising my wrist.

“Si-woo, let go…. ”

“Shut up.”

Elevator up, not down.

Top floor.

Private room access.

He pulled me in the door clanging shut behind us.

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