When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

Chapter 31

Not far. 

Not far enough. 

His eyes were darker now, his jaw clenched. 

"You're shaking," he murmured. 

I swallowed hard. I was. 

"Another drink?"

Like nothing had just happened. Like he hadn't just been inches away from my lips, from crossing that thin, dangerous line we were both balancing on.

My fingers tightened around my glass.

"Yeah," I muttered.

Han-Wool poured, the deep red liquid swirling as it filled my cup. His hands were steady, but his jaw was still clenched.

I took a sip—too fast. The warmth burned down my throat, spreading through my chest.

His eyes flickered to me, watching.

I met his gaze.

Neither of us spoke.

Neither of us moved.

Except—

A single tilt of my head.

A slow, unconscious lean forward.

His fingers twitched around the glass.

He noticed.

Of course, he noticed.

The tension was unbearable now—thick, suffocating, pulling me closer, pulling him closer.

I wasn’t thinking anymore.

Or maybe I was.

Maybe I wanted this.

The moment stretched, endless. His gaze dipped—to my mouth, then back to my eyes.

Then—

He moved first.

A slow, deliberate tilt of his head, his hand reaching—just barely—until his fingers brushed against my chin.

The breath left my lungs.

He was close.

Too close.

I could feel the warmth of him, the scent of wine lingering between us.

I parted my lips slightly, waiting, anticipating—

His nose grazed mine.

A flicker of hesitation. A single second of restraint.

Then—

He kissed me.

Soft at first. Testing.

But then I melted.

And he knew.

His fingers curled into my jaw, his other hand gripping the table, steadying himself.

I exhaled against his lips, and that was all it took.

The kiss deepened, slow but hungry.

His mouth parted, and I felt the warmth of his tongue, teasing, tasting. My fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer—too close.

He groaned softly against my lips, a sound that sent a shiver straight down my spine.

I couldn’t think.

Didn’t want to.

His teeth grazed my bottom lip, a sharp contrast to the warmth of his mouth.

I gasped—