Fifty Shades Of Park Jimin

FACE ME

Light fills the room, coaxing me from deep sleep to wakefulness. I stretch out and open my eyes. It's a beautiful morning.

Wow, what a view. Beside me, Park Jimin is fast asleep. Wow, what a view. I'm surprised he's still in bed. He's facing me, and I have an unprecedented opportunity to study him. His lovely face looks younger, relaxed in sleep. His sculptured, pouty lips are parted slightly, and his shiny, clean hair is a glorious mess.

How could anyone look this good and still be legal? I remember his room upstairs... perhaps he's not legal. I shake my head, so much to think about. It's tempting to reach out and touch him, but like a small child, he's so lovely when he's asleep. I don't have to worry about what I'm saying, what he's saying, what plans he has, especially his plans for me.

I could gaze at him all day, but I have needs - bathroom needs. Slipping out of bed, I find his white shirt on the floor and shrug it on. I walk through a door thinking that it might be the bathroom, but I'm in a vast walk-in closet as big as my bedroom. Lines and lines of expensive suits, shirts, shoes, and ties. How can anyone need this many clothes.I tut with disapproval.

I find two welcome hair ties at the same time in my bag and quickly tie my hair in pigtails. Yes! The more girly I look, perhaps the safer I'll be from Bluebeard. I take my iPod out of the bag and plug my headphones in. There's nothing like music to cook by. I slip it into the breast pocket of his shirt, turn it up loud, and start dancing.

I am daunted by his kitchen. It's so sleek and modern and none of the cupboards have handles. It takes me a few seconds to deduce that I have to push the cupboard doors to open them. Perhaps I should cook him breakfast.

He was eating an omelet the other day... um, yesterday at the Heathman. Jeez, so much has happened since then. I check in the fridge, where there are plenty of eggs, and decide I want pancakes and bacon. I set about making some batter, dancing my way round the kitchen.

Being busy is good. It allows a bit of time to think but not too deeply. Music blaring in my ears also helps to stave off deep thought. I smile and grin. I'm distracted by the memory of last night. His words, his body, his lovemaking... I close my eyes as my body hums at the recollection, and my muscles contract deliciously deep in my belly.

I put the bacon under the grill, and while it's cooking, I whisk some eggs. I turn, and Park Jimin is sitting on one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar, leaning on it, his face supported by his steepled hands. He's still wearing the t-shirt he's slept in. Just-messy hair really, really suits him, as does his designer stubble. He looks both amused and bewildered.

I freeze, flush, then gather myself and pull the headphones out of my ears, my knees weak at the sight of him.

"Good morning, Miss Roseanne. You're very energetic this morning," he says dryly.

"I slept well," I stutter my explanation. His lips try to mask his smile.

"I can't imagine why." He pauses and frowns. "So did I, after I came back to bed."

"Are you hungry?"

"Very," he says with an intense look, and I don't think he's referring to food.

"Pancakes, bacon, and eggs?"

"Sounds great."

"I don't know where you keep your placemats." I shrug, trying desperately hard not to look flustered.

"I'll do that. You cook. Would you like me to put some music on so you can continue your...dancing?"

I stare down at my fingers, knowing that I am turning puce.

"Please, don't stop on my account. It's very entertaining." His tone is one of wry amusement.

I purse my lips. Entertaining eh My subconscious has doubled over in laughter at me.

I turn and continue to whisk the eggs, probably beating them a little harder than they need.

In a moment, he's beside me. He gently pulls my pigtail.

"I love these," he whispers. "They won't protect you."

I turn back to the task at hand, trying to hide my smile. He's hard to stay mad at. Especially when he's being so uncharacteristically playful. He opens a drawer and takes out two black slate placemats for the breakfast bar. I pour the egg mix into a pan, pull out the bacon and turn it over, and put it back under the grill.

When I turn back round, there is orange juice on the table, and he's making coffee.

"I'm not sure we've concluded anything yet, Miss Roseanne," he murmurs.

Our negotiations. Our, err... relationship... whatever that is. He's still so cryptic. I serve up the breakfast onto the heated plates and lay them on the placemats. I hunt in the refrigerator and find some maple syrup.

I glance up at him, and he's waiting for me to sit down.

"Roseanne." He motions to one of the bar stools.

"Mr. Park." I nod in acknowledgement. I climb up and wince slightly as I sit down.

I pick up my fork and eat slowly, trying to chew. I must remember not to put so much on my plate if he's going to be weird about food. His expression softens as I carefully make my way through my breakfast. I note that he cleans his plate. He waits for me to finish, and then he clears my plate.

"You cooked, I'll clear."

"That's very democratic."

"Yes." He frowns. "Not my usual style. Come, let's have a bath." He leans down and kisses me. My heart leaps and desire pools way down low... way down there..

"Oh, okay."

The bath is a white stone, deep, egg-shaped affair, very designer. Park Jimin leans over and fills it from the faucet on the tiled wall. He pours some expensive looking bath oil into the water. It foams as the bath fills and smells of sweet. He stands and gazes at me, his eyes dark, then peels his t-shirt off and casts it on the floor.

"Roseanne." He holds his hand out.

I'm standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and wary, my arms wrapped around myself. I step forward while surreptitiously admiring his physique. My subconscious swoons and passes out somewhere in the back of my head.

I take his hand, and he bids me to step into the bath while I am still wearing his shirt. I do as I'm told. I'll have to get used to it if I'm going to take him up on his outrageous offer... if! The water is enticingly hot.

"Turn around, face me," he orders, his voice soft. I do as I'm bid. He's watching me intently.

"I know that lip is delicious, I can attest to that, but will you stop biting it?" he says through clenched teeth. "You chewing it makes me want to fuck you, and you're still sore, okay?"

I gasp, automatically unlocking my lip, shocked.

"Good." He reaches forward and takes my iPod out of the breast pocket, and he puts it by the sink.

"Water and iPods - not a clever combination," he mutters. He reaches down, grasps the hem of my white shirt, lifts it above my head, and discards it on the floor.

He stands back to gaze at me. I'm naked for heaven's sake. I flush crimson and stare down at my hands, level with the base of my belly, and I desperately want to disappear into the hot water and foam, but I know he won't want that.