"How do you know?"
"From his computer. It held personal details about me and the rest of my family. Especially Chris."
"Chris? Why him?"
"I don't know yet. Let's go to bed."
"Jungkook, tell me!"
"Tell you what?"
"You are so . . . exasperating."
"So are you." He glares at me.
"You didn't ramp up the security when you first found out there was information about your family on the computer. So what happened?
"Why now?"
Jungkook narrows his eyes at me.
"I didn't know he was going to attempt to burn down my building, or - " He stops. "We thought it was an unwelcome obsession, but you know" - he shrugs - "when you're in the public eye, people are interested. It was random stuff: news reports on me from when I was at Harvard - my rowing, my career. Reports on Chris - following his career, following my mom's career - and to some extent, Jimin and Somi.
How strange.
"You said or," I prompt.
"Or what?"
"You said, 'attempt to burn down my building, or . . .' like you were going to say something else."
"Are you hungry?"
What? I frown at him, and my stomach rumbles.
"Did you eat today?" His voice is sterner and his eyes frost. I'm betrayed by my flush.
"As I thought." His voice is clipped. "You know how I feel about you not eating. Come," he says. He stands and holds out his hand. "Let me feed you." And he shifts again . . . this time his voice full of sensual promise.
"Feed me?" I whisper as everything south of my navel liquefies. Hell. This is such a typically mercurial diversion from what we've been discussing. Is that it? Is that all I'm getting out of him for now?
Leading me over to the kitchen, Jungkook grabs a bar stool and hefts it around to the other side of the island.
"Sit," he says.
"Where's Mrs. Jones?" I ask, noticing her absence for the first time as I perch on the stool.
"I've given her and Taylor the night off."
Oh.
"Why?"
He gazes at me for a beat, and his arrogant amusement is back.
"Because I can."
"So you're going to cook?" I give him an incredulous smirk.
"Oh, ye of little faith, Mrs. Jeon. Close your eyes."
I blink at him, marveling. I thought we were going to have a full-on fight, and here we are, playing in the kitchen.
"Close them," he orders.
I roll them first, then oblige.
"Hmm. Not good enough," he mutters. I open one eye and see him take a plum-colored silk scarf out of the back pocket of his jeans. It matches my dress. Holy cow. I look quizzically at him. When did he get that?
"Close," he orders again. "No peeking."
"You're going to blindfold me?" I mutter, shocked. All of a sudden I'm breathless.
"Yes."
"Jungkook - " He places a finger upon my lips, silencing me. I want to talk.
"We'll talk later. I want you to eat now. You said you were hungry." Leaning over, he lightly kisses my lips. The silk of the scarf is soft against my eyelids as he ties it securely at the back of my head.
"Can you see?" he asks.
"No," I mutter, figuratively rolling my eyes. He chuckles softly.
"I can tell when you're rolling your eyes, you know . . . and you know how that makes me feel."
I purse my lips. "Can we just get this over and done with?" I snap.
"Such impatience, Mrs. Jeon. So eager to talk." His tone is playful.
"Yes!"
"I must feed you first," he says and brushes his lips over my temple, calming me instantly.
Okay . . . have it your way. I resign myself to my fate and listen to his movements around the kitchen. The fridge door opens and Jungkook places various dishes on the countertop behind me. He pads over to the microwave, pops something in, and turns it on. My curiosity is piqued. I hear the toaster lever drop, the turn of the control, and the quiet tick of the timer. Hmm - toast?
"Yes. I am eager to talk," I murmur, distracted. An assortment of exotic, spicy aromas fills the kitchen. What is he doing? I shift in my chair.
"Be still, Lalisa," he murmurs, and he's close to me again. "I want you to behave . . . ," he whispers.
Oh my. My inner goddess freezes, not even blinking.
"And don't bite your lip." Gently he tugs my bottom lip free of my teeth, and I can't help my smile.
Next, I hear the soft pop of a cork being drawn from a bottle and the gentle glug of wine being poured into a glass. He leans across behind me and I hear a soft click and the quiet white noise of the surroundsound speakers hissing to life. A loud twang of a guitar begins a song I don't know. Jungkook turns the volume down to background level. A man starts to sing, his voice deep, low, and sexy.
"A drink first, I think," Jungkook whispers, diverting me from the song. "Head back." I tip my head back. "Further," he prompts. I oblige, and his lips are on mine. Cool crisp wine flows into my mouth. I swallow reflexively. Oh my, and memories flood back of not so long ago - me trussed up on my bed in Vancouver before I graduated, with a hot, angry Jungkook not appreciating my e-mail. Hmm . . . have times changed? Not much. Except now I recognize the wine, Jungkook's favorite - a Sancerre.
"Hmm," I murmur in appreciation.
"You like the wine?" he whispers his breath warm on my cheek. I'm bathed in his proximity, his vitality, the heat radiating from his body, even though he doesn't touch me.
"Yes," I breathe.
"More?"
"I always want more, with you."
I almost hear his grin. It makes me grin, too. "Mrs. Jeon, are you flirting with me?"
"Yes."
His wedding ring clinks against the glass as he takes another sip of wine. Now that is a sexy sound. This time he pulls my head right back, cradling me. He kisses me once more, and greedily I swallow the wine he gives me. He smiles as he kisses me again.
"Hungry?"
"I think we've already established that, Mr. Jeon."
The troubadour on the iPod is singing about wicked games. Hmm . . . how apt.
The microwave pings, and Jungkook releases me. I sit upright. The food smells spicy: garlic, mint, oregano, rosemary, and lamb, I think. What is he cooking? The door to the microwave opens, and the appetizing smell grows stronger.
"Shit! Christ!" Jungkook curses, and a dish clatters onto the countertop.
Oh no.
"You okay?"
"Yes!" he snaps, his voice tight. A moment later he's standing beside me once more.
"I just burnt myself. Here." He eases his index finger into my mouth. "Maybe you could suck it better."
"Oh." Clasping his hand, I draw his finger slowly from my mouth.
"There, there," I soothe, and leaning forward I blow, cooling his finger, then kiss it gently twice. He stops breathing. I reinsert it into my mouth and suck gently. He inhales sharply, and the sound travels straight to my groin. He tastes as delicious as ever, and I realize that this is his game - the slow seduction of his wife. I thought he was mad, and now . . . ? This man, my husband, is so confusing. But right now this is how I like him. Playful. Fun. Sexy as hell. He's given me some answers, but I'm greedy. I want more, but I want to play, too. After the anxiety and tension of today, and the nightmare of last night with Jack, this is a welcome diversion.
"What are you thinking?" Jungkook murmurs, stopping my thoughts in their tracks as he pulls his finger out of my mouth.
"How mercurial you are."
He stills beside me. "Fifty Shades, baby," he says eventually, and plants a tender kiss at the corner of my mouth.
"My Fifty Shades," I whisper. Grabbing his T-shirt, I pull him back to me.
"Oh no you don't, Mrs. Jeon. No touching . . . not yet." He takes my hand, pries it off his T-shirt, and kisses each finger in turn.
"Sit up," he commands.
I pout.
"I will spank you if you pout. Now open wide."
Oh shit. I open my mouth, and he pops in a forkful of spicy hot lamb, covered in a cool, minty, yogurt sauce. Mmm. I chew.
"You like?"
"Yes."
He makes an appreciative noise, and I know he's eating and enjoying, too.
"More?"
I nod. He gives me another forkful and I chew it enthusiastically. He puts the fork down and he tears . . . bread, I think.
"Open," he orders.
This time it's pita bread and hummus. I realize Mrs. Jones - or maybe even Jungkook - has been shopping at the delicatessen I discovered about five weeks ago only two blocks from Escala. I chew gratefully. Jungkook in a playful mood increases my appetite.
"More?" he asks.
I nod. "More of everything. Please. I'm starving."
***