Loving The JEON

CHAPTER 14:-

"I know what you're doing, Lalisa," he murmurs darkly, still preparing the first pepper.

"I think it's called cooking," I say, fluttering my eyelashes. Grabbing another knife, I join him at the chopping board peeling and slicing garlic, shallots, and French beans, continually bumping against him.

"You're quite good at this," he mutters as he starts on his second red pepper.

"Chopping?" I bat my eyelashes at him. "Years of practice." I brush against him again, this time with my behind. He stills once more.

"If you do that again, Lalisa, I am going to take you on the kitchen floor."

Oh, wow. It's working. "You'll have to beg me first."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Maybe."

He puts down his knife and saunters slowly over to me, his eyes burning. Leaning past me, he switches the gas off. The oil in the wok quiets almost immediately.

"I think we'll eat later," he says. "Put the chicken in the fridge."

This is not a sentence I had ever expected to hear from Jeon Jungkook, and only he can make it sound hot, really hot. I pick up the bowl of diced chicken, rather shakily place a plate on top of it, and stow it in the fridge. When I turn back, he's beside me.

"So you're going to beg?" I whisper, bravely gazing into his darkening eyes.

"No, Lalisa." He shakes his head. "No begging." His voice is soft, seductive.

And we stand staring at each other, drinking each other in - the atmosphere charging between us, almost crackling, neither saying anything, just looking. I bite my lip as desire for this beautiful man seizes me with a vengeance, igniting my blood, shallowing my breath, pooling below my waist. I see my reactions reflected in his stance, in his eyes.

In a beat, he grabs me by my hips and pulls me to him as my hands reach for his hair and his mouth claims me. He pushes me against the fridge, and I hear the vague protesting rattle of bottles and jars from within as his tongue finds mine. I moan into his mouth, and one of his hands moves into my hair, pulling my head back as we kiss, savagely.

"What do you want, Anastasia?" he breathes.

"You." I gasp.

"Where?"

"Bed."

He breaks free, scoops me into his arms, and carries me quickly and seemingly without any strain into my bedroom. Setting me on my feet beside my bed, he leans down and switches on my bedside lamp. He glances quickly round the room and hastily closes the pale cream curtains.

"Now what?" he says softly.

"Make love to me."

"How?"

Jeez.

"You have got to tell me, baby."

Holy crap. "Undress me." I am panting already.

He smiles and hooks his index finger into my open shirt, pulling me toward him.

"Good girl," he murmurs, and without taking his blazing eyes off mine, slowly starts to unbutton my shirt.

Tentatively I put my hands on his arms to steady myself. He doesn't complain. His arms are a safe area. When he's finished with the buttons, he pulls my shirt over my shoulders, and I let go of him to let the shirt fall to the floor. He reaches down to the waistband of my jeans, pops the button, and pulls down the zipper.

"Tell me what you want, Lalisa." His eyes smolder and his lips part as he takes quick shallow breaths.

"Kiss me from here to here," I whisper trailing my finger from the base of my ear, down my throat. He smoothes my hair out of the line of fire and bends, leaving sweet soft kisses along the path my finger took and then back again.