When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 20

I let out a soft gasp as he tilts my head further, deepening the kiss even more. His hands roam lower, fingers skimming the hem of my skirt before gripping my thighs. In one swift motion, he lifts me, his strong hands holding me up effortlessly.

A startled breath escapes me as I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist.

His grip tightens. His palms burn against my bare skin, fingertips pressing into the softness of my thighs. My heart is hammering against my ribs, and I can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against mine.

His lips leave mine for just a second, just long enough for us both to gasp for air. But before I can say anything, before I can process the heat pooling in my stomach, he’s kissing me again—deeper, slower, more consuming.

My hands tangle in his hair, fingers gripping as if anchoring myself. He groans softly against my mouth, and the sound does something to me—something dangerous, something thrilling.

And then—

His hands slide higher.

The fabric of my skirt riding up as his fingers trace the curve of my thigh. The sensation is maddening, the anticipation of what’s to come making every nerve in my body feel alive. I can feel the heat of his palms through the thin fabric of my underwear, the pressure of it sending a jolt of desire straight to my core.

I kiss him back fiercely, my hands sliding down to grip his shoulders as I pull him closer. The air between us feels charged, electric, and I can’t get enough of him—his taste, his touch, the way he makes me feel like I’m the only thing that matters in the world.

His hand moves higher, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of my skirt until his palm is pressing against the curve of my ass. The sensation is overwhelming, the heat of his touch making me moan softly against his lips. He groans in response, his grip tightening as he pulls me even closer, our bodies pressed so tightly together that I can feel the hard length of him against my thigh.

His lips devour mine again, hungrier, deeper. His tongue teases against mine, coaxing me, tasting me, consuming me in a way that makes my entire body shudder. I feel it everywhere—his warmth, his grip, the roughness of his hands against my skin.

He groans into the kiss, his fingers pressing firmly into the curve of my ass, pulling me tighter against him. I can feel every inch of him, the heat of him, the solid press of his body against mine. My hands slide up, threading into his hair, tugging slightly, and he exhales sharply, his grip on me tightening as if he’s holding himself back.

I don’t know how long we stay like this, tangled in each other, breathing each other in, but suddenly—

A tear slips down my cheek.

Then another.

And before I even realize it, my chest is aching.

The past floods back in all at once—the years, the memories, the moments I’ve spent waiting, then trying to accept it. But here I am, kissing him, holding him, wanting him. And yet, he doesn’t remember me.

The weight of it crashes over me, too much, too fast.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push it down, trying to ignore the stinging behind my eyelids, but it’s useless. The tears keep coming.

I pull away, my breathing uneven, my hands trembling slightly as I step back.

Han Wool watches me, his chest rising and falling heavily, his brows furrowing as he takes in my face. His hand lingers on my waist before slowly falling away. “Are you okay?” His voice is quieter now, softer.

I swallow, quickly wiping at my face, turning away. “Just... let’s go home.”

He doesn’t respond right away, hesitation flickering in his eyes. But after a moment, he nods. “Okay.”

The silence between us is thick as we make our way to his car. He opens the passenger door for me, and I slide in without a word. When he gets in, he doesn’t start the car right away. The keys sit in the ignition, untouched.

For a while, neither of us speaks.

I stare out the window, watching the neon lights of the club flicker in the distance. My heart is still racing, my lips still tingling from his kiss, but everything inside me feels tangled, confused.

Finally, his voice cuts through the silence. “Do you… hate it?”

I blink, turning slightly to look at him. His fingers drum lightly against the steering wheel, his gaze forward, but I can see the tension in his jaw.

“I’m the one who should be asking that,” I murmur.

His brows furrow. “Why?”

I let out a small breath, my fingers tightening against my lap. “You’re Harin’s fiancé. I don’t know if you hate me for this.”

At that, he lets out a short, quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t hate you.” He finally turns to look at me. “I did this of my own will.”

My stomach flips at his words.

I look at him, trying to read his expression, but there’s something else there—something unreadable.

After a pause, he exhales slowly and says, almost to himself, “To be honest… I feel like I’ve done this before.” He scoffs lightly, shaking his head. “Shit, I sound so dramatic.”

My breath catches.

I watch him, my chest tightening at his words, at the way he’s looking at me, as if something in his mind is reaching for something just out of grasp.

I want to say something.

I want to tell him.

But instead, I press my lips together and turn back to the window, pretending I didn’t hear it.

Because if I do…

I don’t know if I can handle it.