𝐵𝓁𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝑀𝑒

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 14

Of course, Jungkook lives in a penthouse in the city center, one of those places you only see in interior design magazines and Netflix shows.

I’ve struggled to drag him from the underground parking lot to the elevator, his dead weight all over me, but it’s worth it: this place is incredible.

The elevator’s doors open directly into his living room: the area is huge, with minimal, black and white furniture, and an entire wall made out of glass—the city’s skyline is a map of shining lights, an ocean of fireflies glinting in the dark.
I limp on the glossy marble floor, dragging Jungkook across the room. We walk past a set of sleek, leather armchairs and a TV area that could compete with a movie theatre, but then I have to stop: there are a few doors on the far right, an open kitchen on the left, and a spiral staircase right in the middle of the living room: I don’t know where to go. There’s no way I’m dragging his heavy ass all around this uselessly large apartment.

“Where’s your bedroom?” I ask, trying to shake Jungkook awake.

He cracks his eyes open, a sly smile curving his mouth. “What for?”

“Dump you on your bed” I answer drily. “You’re heavy.”

“Just wait till I’m on top of you, then” he replies, his voice deep and raspy, an amused edge to it.

“You won’t. Bedroom, now.” He looks at me for a never-ending moment before pointing at one of the doors.

“I like how impatient you are.” I ignore him, even though his delirious flirting is leaving a mark. A deep one, too. Why do I enjoy his attention? Why is it so nice to hear him say these things?I don’t indulge my inappropriate thoughts: I secure my grip on Jungkook and drag him to the door he pointed at, pushing it open with my right hip.

Wow. Just wow.

The king-sized bed is in the middle of the room, covered in gray silky sheets, only two pillows on it. It lays on a thick rug, and it’s sided by two empty nightstands. On the left there’s a big sliding door (probably leading to a walk-in closet), on the right floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
I can’t believe there are people waking up to this view. It’s crazy.

“I know you like what you see” he mumbles, as I shove him toward the bed. “It could be yours, Y/N. All yours. Including me.”

“Oh my God, just shut up and go to bed.” I push him down, but at the last moment he grabs the collar of my shirt, so I fall on top of him.

“Jungkook! What the fuck?”

“You want to leave me.” There’s a whiny and accusatory edge to his voice.

I try to get back up, but he won’t let me: for a wasted vampire, his grip on me is strong. “Yeah, because you’re a bossy prick. I hate bossy people. Now let me go.”

He ignores my request, holding me even tighter. “I’ve been an asshole.”

“Definitely, yeah. Can you let go now?”

“But I can’t stand the idea of you dancing for other people” he continues, as if I hadn’t spoken. “Of them fantasizing about you.”

I try to push myself up and away from him, but it’s pointless: it’s like I’m glued to his warm, heaving chest. “This sounds like a you problem.”

“I want you for me, Y/N.” I hold his gaze until I can’t anymore, then I look down at the first undone buttons of his shirt.

“It’s the alcohol talking” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. “Now let go, Jungkook. I need to retrieve my car at the club and head home.”

“It’s the truth” he murmurs, pulling me even closer. “I’m not that drunk.”

“That’s exactly what a super drunk person would say.”

One of his hands slides up and grabs my ponytail, gently forcing me to look up. “I know you feel it too.” His gaze is gloomy, intense, heavy, but this time I can’t look away:
I’m attracted to it like a moth to the light. I know it’ll hurt, but I can’t really help myself.

“I don’t know what you want from me” I whisper, unable to talk louder. “I don’t get it, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t answer immediately. His fingers trace imaginary lines on my back, circles, weird figures I can’t quite make out. Then he closes his eyes and pulls his hands away. “I don’t know either.” I shouldn’t feel disappointed, and yet here I am, wishing he hadn’t said what he just said, wishing he hadn’t stopped touching me. I hesitate for a moment, then I push myself up, trying to ignore how my body is rubbing against his. I need distance. Lots of it.

“I have to go now” I mumble, smoothing down my messy hair. “Try to sleep. It’s going to be better in the morning.”

He doesn’t move: he simply keeps staring at me from the bed,
stretched out on crumpled sheets, his eyes carrying unsaid truths I’m both scared and curious about.
“It won’t if I wake up alone” he says, his voice deep as a crash of thunder. “Stay. Please.”

That please is far more unexpected than the fact he wants me to stay. Is he capable of politeness?
“I won’t let you feed off of me in this state” I reply, painfully aware of my shaky voice. “There’s no guarantee you’d be able to control yourself. I don’t have a death wish.”

A sharp, cruel smile tugs at his lips. “So naive. I could drain you dry in less than a minute, if I wanted to. Intoxicated or not.”

“That’s not reassuring, you know?”

“My point is,” he says, an amused edge to his voice, “yes, I could. I haven’t, though, nor do I have any intentions of doing so.” His gaze follows my every move, captured, making my skin tingle. “That’s not why I’m asking you to stay. I just want you close for a while.”

I shouldn’t even give him an answer: I should turn around and walk out of this apartment without looking back, because the situation is starting to get dangerous—and not because he’s a bloodthirsty vampire.

I don’t move a muscle, though. I stand very still, very quiet, my eyes caressing his relaxed body. I want this. I want to be close to him, even though I don’t have any rational explanation for it. I just like how having him near makes me feel, how my body reacts to his, how well we fit together.

“I hope you’re not expecting to have sex with me, because it’s not happening” I impulsively say, as I feel my cheeks getting warmer.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Do you believe I’m trying to fuck you? How weak do you think my seduction game is?”

“No sex” I insist, taking an uncertain step forward. “No matter how convincing you are.”

“Trust me, Y/N” he mutters, a mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. “When the time comes, it won’t take any convincing.” His grin is devilish. “You’ll be ripping your clothes off.”

“I… What?” He answers with a smile that makes my insides twist with anticipation. And then he closes his eyes, his breath becomes calmer, his body relaxes even more. I didn’t think it was possible to fall asleep so fast, but here he is, proving me wrong.

I hesitate. I shouldn’t stay, right? It doesn’t matter how good I feel when I’m next to him, it doesn’t matter how much I want it—I shouldn’t.

I don’t go, though. The mere thought is frustrating. I want to feel his warmth on my body, I want his hands on me, his lips on mine, his teeth sunk in my flesh.

I don’t have the strength to get away from him. Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow, but right now, I can’t.

So, I hop on the bed and lie down next to him, knowing damn well I’m going to regret it.

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