{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...
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Jungkook P.O.V.
I stir, opening my eyes to a bright September morning.
Warm and comfortable between clean, crisp sheets, I take a moment to orientate myself and am overwhelmed by a sense of déja vu. Of course, I'm at the Heathman.
"Shit! Daddy!" I gasp out loud, recalling with a gut-wrenching surge of apprehension that twists my heart and starts it pounding why I'm in Portland.
"Hey." Taehyung is sitting on the edge of the bed. He strokes my cheek with his knuckles, instantly calming me. "I called the ICU this morning. Minho had a good night. It's all good," he says reassuringly.
"Oh, good. Thank you," I mutter, sitting up.
I look over and there's a note on the bedside table -
For all our firsts on your first birthday as my beloved husband.
I love you.
Tx
-
He leans in and presses his lips to my forehead. "Good morning, Kook," he whispers and kisses my temple.
"Hi," I mutter. He's up and dressed in a black T-shirt and blue jeans.
"Hi," he replies, his eyes soft and warm. "I want to wish you a happy birthday. Is that okay?"
I offer him a tentative smile and caress his cheek. "Yes, of course. Thank you. For everything."
His brow furrows. "Everything?"
"Everything."
He looks momentarily confused, but it's fleeting and his eyes widen with anticipation. "Here." He hands me a small, exquisitely wrapped box with a tiny gift card.
In spite of the worry I feel about my father, I sense Taehyung's anxiety and excitement, and it's infectious.
I read the card.
Oh my, how sweet is that? "I love you, too," I murmur, smiling at him.
He grins. "Open it."
Unwrapping the paper carefully so it doesn't tear, I find a beautiful red leather box. Cartier. It's familiar, thanks to my second-chance earrings and my watch.
Cautiously, I open the box to discover a delicate charm bracelet of silver, or platinum, or white gold—I don't know, but it's absolutely enchanting. Attached to it are several charms: the Eiffel Tower, a London black cab, a helicopter —Charlie Tango, a glider—the soaring, a catamaran— The Grace, a bed, and an ice cream cone?
I look up at him, bemused.
"Vanilla?" He shrugs apologetically, and I can't help but laugh. Of course.
"Taehyung, this is beautiful. Thank you. It's yar."
