{BOOK THREE}...When unworldly literature student Jeon Jungkook first encountered the driven and dazzling young entrepreneur Kim Taehyung it sparked a sensual affair that changed both of their lives irrevocably. Shocked, intrigued, and, ultimately, r...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Jungkook P.O.V.
He leads me across the deck and through the doors into the plush, beautifully appointed main salon, along a narrow corridor, through the dining room, and down the stairs to the main master cabin.
The cabin has been cleaned since this morning and the bed made. It's a lovely room. With two portholes on both the starboard and port sides, it's elegantly decorated in dark walnut furniture with cream walls and soft furnishings in gold and red.
Taehyung releases my hand, pulls his T-shirt over his head, and tosses it onto a chair. He steps out of his flip-flops and removes his shorts and trunks in one graceful move . Oh my. Will I ever get tired of looking at him naked? He is utterly gorgeous and all mine. His skin glows—he's caught the sun, too, and his hair is longer, flopping over his forehead. I am one lucky, lucky man.
He grasps my chin, pulling slightly so that I stop biting my lip and runs his thumb along my lower lip.
"That's better." He turns and strides over to the impressive armoire that houses his clothes. He produces two pairs of metal handcuffs and an airline eye mask from the bottom drawer.
Handcuffs!? We've never used handcuffs. I glance quickly and nervously at the bed. Where the hell is he going to attach those? He turns and gazes steadily at me, his eyes dark and luminous.
"These can be quite painful. They can bite into the skin if you pull too hard."
He holds up one pair. "But I really want to use them on you now."
Holy fuck. My mouth goes dry.
"Here." He stalks gracefully forward and hands me a set. "Do you want to try them first?"
They feel solid, the metal cold. Vaguely, I hope I never have to wear a pair of these for real.
Taehyung is watching me intently.
"Where are the keys?" My voice wavering.
He holds out his palm, revealing a small metallic key. "This does both sets. In fact, all sets."
How many sets does he have? I don't remember seeing any in the museum chest.
He strokes my cheek with his index finger, trailing it down to my mouth. He leans in as if to kiss me.
"Do you want to play?" he says, his voice low, and everything in my body heads south as desire unfurls deep in my belly.
"Yes," I breathe.
He smiles. "Good." He plants a featherlight kiss on my forehead. "We're going to need a safe word."
What?
"Stop won't be enough because you will probably say that, but you won't mean it." He runs his nose down mine—the only contact between us.
My heart starts pounding. Shit . . . How can he do this with just words?
