“I was worried sick about you all night!” Mi-sook’s voice shrieked from the phone, so loud that Ji-woo had to pull the receiver away from her ear. She could hear Mi-sook sniffling on the other end of the line, and the frantic shouting only paused for the sound of a nose being blown.
“Then Tae-joon called me last night while you were sleeping,” Mi-sook continued, her voice now softer, laced with relief. “He told me you just had a few minor injuries. He was so calm, telling me not to worry.”
“Ah,” Ji-woo murmured, nodding even though no one could see. It had only been a few minutes since she’d woken up. The fact that it was already noon was surprising, but that wasn’t what truly bothered her.
What bothered her was waking up alone to see ten missed calls on her phone. She wondered how much longer she might have slept if Seo Tae-joon hadn’t walked back into the room just in time for her to finally answer Mi-sook’s eleventh attempt.
“I’ll be right there,” she told Mi-sook, her eyes drifting to the shopping bags Seo Tae-joon was carrying. “It’s the memorial day.”
“Don’t you dare!” Mi-sook insisted. “You take it easy. You’re lucky it wasn’t your own memorial day we were about to have.”
Ji-woo shook her head. “No, I’ll be there,” she said firmly. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
They exchanged brief goodbyes, and Ji-woo ended the call. Her legs ached as she shifted to get up, but otherwise, the pain was manageable.
“Where did you go?” she asked Seo Tae-joon.
His eyes traveled down the length of her thin hospital gown. He was only looking, but his gaze was so intense it felt like a physical touch, pinning her in place. “Well, you can’t go out like that,” he said simply. He reached into one of the bags and pulled out a set of undergarments.
Ji-woo quickly took the intimate apparel from him, hiding it behind her back with a shy dip of her head. “How did you pay for this?”
Seo Tae-joon scoffed, a small frown creasing his brow. “The shops downstairs have everything,” he said. “I just had them bill it to the room.”
“But,” Ji-woo started, her own brows furrowing in concern, “you’re a patient too. You should have woken me up. I could have handled that.”
In the next moment, he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him. “Don’t suddenly play innocent with me.”
His warm breath ghosted over the sensitive skin of her neck, and a familiar heat immediately pooled low in her belly. It flustered her how her body reacted so instinctively to everything about him—his scent, his voice, the possessive strength of his grasp. She was helpless against it.
“They get hard so easily,” he chuckled, his gaze dropping to her chest. “I can see them right through this gown. If I let you go out like that, any bastard on the street could see the nipples I was sucking on all night. I couldn’t live with that.”
A hot blush crept up her neck, and Ji-woo buried her face against his chest to hide it.
“There is no way I’m letting you leave this room without underwear,” he told her, his voice a low rumble. “Maybe if I took a bullet to the brain. Otherwise, what kind of husband would I be?” His hands began to gently caress her waist.
“You should lie down for a while, Tae-joon,” Ji-woo said, her voice a little shaky.
“Only if you lie down with me.”
Her attempt to change the subject had failed completely. The more he touched her, the more her composure frayed.
“I’ll go home and come back this evening,” she tried again, her voice weak.
“I don’t want that.” He squeezed her waist for emphasis.
Hesitantly, Ji-woo tapped his back, a silent plea for him to let her go. “You’re not made of steel, Tae-joon,” she said softly. “You’re human. You need to rest properly, or you’ll be a wreck when you’re older. I know it’s boring, but please, focus on your health.”
When Seo Tae-joon didn’t respond, she added quietly, “Besides, we already… did it last night.”
A smirk played on his lips as he pressed a soft kiss to her neck. “Did what?”
“You kept going, even when I was still swollen,” she mumbled into his chest.
“Are we talking about my shoulder, or—”
“Both!”
Ji-woo smacked his back lightly, a scolding gesture that only made him laugh. The sound rumbled through his chest and into hers.
As he held her, he realized he liked absolutely everything about her. He liked the way she worried about others, even those who were long gone. He liked her simmering innocence, and the thought of ever letting her go was impossible. He didn't care about any memories he'd lost; what he had found with her was infinitely more valuable.
“Only a complete idiot would try to force himself on someone who’s already swollen and sore,” he teased.
She glared up at him, though there was no real heat in it. “Tae-joon, there’s a thing called manners, you know.”
“I’d rather have you every day than have manners.”
Ji-woo blinked, his blunt words catching her off guard. She looked as if she was about to say something, but the thought seemed to vanish.
“You don’t like it?” Seo Tae-joon asked, his playful tone fading slightly.
She shook her head quickly. “It’s not that,” she said. “It’s just… it hurts afterward.”
Seo Tae-joon’s expression hardened. “I didn’t want to compare, but…” he trailed off. “Am I not as good anymore?”
Ji-woo struggled to find the right words, her silence stretching between them.
“I don’t know much,” he admitted, his voice low. “I know I just go at it like an animal, without any real skill. If you want, I’ll learn. We can slow down… Would that be better?” He closed his eyes, a flicker of guilt crossing his features.
“That’s not it!” she burst out, her face turning crimson. “It’s not that at all! It isn’t your fault.”
“Then what is it?”
Ji-woo looked away, her embarrassment palpable. “You’re just… too big for me,” she whispered. “I just hoped you’d go a little easier, that’s all.”
“I knew it,” Seo Tae-joon said, a strange mix of pride and gravity in his voice. He looked at her, his gaze serious and unyielding. “Don’t go out without me.”