When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 24

I lifted an eyebrow. "And you always had that annoying little smirk."

His smirk widened. "Annoying?"

I crossed my arms. "Yes. Infuriating. Makes me want to—" I stopped myself, narrowing my eyes.

He tilted his head slightly, his voice dropping a little. "Makes you want to what?"

I rolled my eyes. "Never mind."

His gaze stayed on me, unwavering. "You should finish your sentences properly, you know. Feels like you're holding back."

I swallowed. "Maybe I am."

His lips curled into something lazy, something that made my skin feel too hot. "And why is that?"

"Why do you think?" I shot back, feigning nonchalance, even though my fingers were gripping the hem of my sweater a little too tightly.

Han Wool exhaled a quiet laugh, leaning back against the couch. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes—those damn eyes—were watching me like he was waiting for something.

"I don’t know," he said finally, voice smooth as honey. "Maybe because you're afraid."

My breath caught. "Afraid of what?"

"Afraid that if you start something, you won’t be able to stop."

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "Oh, please. You’re acting like I’m the one who can’t handle it."

He hummed, tilting his head. "Aren’t you?"

I clenched my jaw. "I can handle a lot of things, Han Wool."

His lips parted slightly, just enough to make me want to reach out and—no. No, I was not going there.

He shifted closer, his knee barely brushing mine. "Oh, yeah? Then why do you look like you’re running away?"

"I’m not running," I said through gritted teeth.

His smirk deepened. "Good." A pause. A heartbeat. "Then tell me. What were you going to say earlier? Makes you want to… what?"

I inhaled slowly, my mind screaming at me not to say it, but my body—traitorous, burning—had other plans. "Makes me want to… kiss you."

His expression shifted in an instant—laughter vanished, teasing gone. The air between us thickened, and he blinked, almost as if he hadn’t expected me to say it out loud.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. "Ye Na."

I held my breath. "What?"

His gaze flickered down to my lips. "I want to kiss you too."

The air thickened, charged with something neither of us had the strength to stop anymore. His fingers hovered just inches from my face, as if waiting for me to pull away. But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

And that was all the permission he needed.

A sharp inhale—then his lips crashed onto mine, hard, desperate, as if the past seven years of distance and silence had only been an unbearable pause in something inevitable.

His hands hovered by my face at first, hesitant, like he was trying to hold back. But the second my fingers gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer, all restraint snapped.

A low sound rumbled in his throat as his hands finally moved—one cradling the back of my head, tilting me to deepen the kiss, while the other slid down, fingers grazing the length of my spine, pressing against the small of my back until there wasn’t an inch of space left between us.