That day, his wife was different from usual.

The moment Ikhyeon spotted his wife sitting blankly in front of the convenience store, he furrowed his brow.

She met a friend dressed like that?

Her makeup was different from usual too. The thought that the friend who had supposedly returned to Korea after a long time away might be a man passed through his mind, unpleasantly. The outfit was one thing, but the way his wife gazed up at the magnolia blossoms made her look unguarded, and as precarious as a wine glass perched on the edge of a table.

“Gu Morin!”

He rolled down the window and called out to her, and she turned her head. She was looking at Ikhyeon, but somehow it seemed like his reflection wasn’t quite coming into focus in her eyes. Her face without its usual smile felt deeply unfamiliar. A strange restlessness surged through him, and Ikhyeon flung the car door open and ran to her.

“What are you doing out here?”

Despite his worry, his wife gave a faint smile and said she had been waiting for him. Seeing her smile, Ikhyeon finally let out a breath of relief.

“Let’s go home.”

Ikhyeon held out his hand, and his wife stretched both arms wide, wanting to be held. Every time he saw her like this, Ikhyeon was reminded of the young girl in Gyeongju, reaching her arms out to her mother.

“Such a baby.”

Ikhyeon laughed softly.

“I haven’t worn this dress in a while,” his wife blurted out.

She had been quietly buried in the passenger seat the whole way home without a word.

“I know.”

He knew. His body had already reacted before his mind could.

“Mm… so you noticed.”

She reached out and lazily stroked Ikhyeon’s thigh.

Screech.

Ikhyeon slammed the brakes and stared at his wife’s hand resting on his right thigh. The diamond ring glittered in the dark.

“Gu Morin, are you drunk?”

Ikhyeon tensed his core and pulled her hand away. His wife covered her mouth like a little troublemaker and burst into giggles.

“As if. I’m a brewer’s daughter.”

His wife could hold her liquor better than him. Whether it was the powerful maternal DNA or something else, both she and her brothers could drink. They seemed perfectly bred to carry on the family brewery business. Of the four siblings, he was certain his wife could outdrink them all.

“Don’t try anything unless you can handle what comes next.”

He threw her the warning and pulled out fast.

“And what happens if I do?”

She reached out again. This time, bolder, her hand moved past his thigh and groped between his legs. It was a clear provocation.

“Stop it!”

Ikhyeon clenched his back teeth and drew a sharp breath.

Zzzzip.

The moment she pulled down his zipper, his mind went completely blank. Her cold hand slipped inside his underwear and closed around his burning heat, slow and teasing. Ikhyeon swallowed a groan and pulled into the parking lot hard.

“Gu Morin, did you take something?”

He gripped her wrist and asked. That friend who had supposedly just returned to Korea must have given her something. There was no other explanation for why his little hamster would be this brazen.

“Yeah.”

“What?”

What the hell did you take?

“Tylenol. For a migraine.”

His wife squinted one eye, still in pain.

“Haa. Does it hurt a lot?”

Ikhyeon let out a sigh and swept the hair that had fallen across her temple. His wife stared at him in silence, then suddenly unclipped her seatbelt, tossed her jacket into the backseat, and pushed herself up from the passenger seat. With a bit of struggling, she climbed over and settled onto Ikhyeon’s lap.

“I think it won’t hurt if we do it now.”

“Here?”

You’ve lost your mind, Gu Morin.

Ikhyeon let out a disbelieving laugh.

Click.

She unclipped his seatbelt and slowly drew it out from between their pressed-together bodies. Like pulling away the last thread of his patience. Then she looked into his eyes with a face that said, so what are you going to do about it?

“I warned you.”

Ikhyeon hit the button and shoved the seat all the way back. He grabbed her waist and the back of her head as she lurched, and took her lips. Her lips smelled of strawberry… no, something richer than that. He bit her lower lip, and she let out a low m*an and gripped his shoulders. Ikhyeon parted her soft lips and moved through her freely. Every part of her was soft, warm, and yielding. Whenever he sank deep into her, he felt like he was reaching some primordial refuge he had no memory of. In that hollow, aching relief, every time he came, a rush of tears threatened to spill with it.

“Morin.”

She was the one who started this madness, yet Ikhyeon was the one about to lose his mind. The constraints of time and place and the last barrier of reason had already dissolved. He pushed up her dress, grabbed her hips, and ground his aching, unreleased desire against her. He felt her growing wet against him. Two desires strained against each other through a thin layer of fabric.

She undid the buttons of her dress and bared her pale, girlish chest herself.

“S*ck on them.”

She cupped her exposed br*asts and brought them to his lips, the way a mother offers a br*ast to nurse. The flushed, stiffened tips touched his mouth. He felt like he might suffocate on her scent. Tonight, his wife had decided to torment him. She scratched at some deep, never-before-stimulated fold of his brain.

He didn’t want to give in to her so easily. Ikhyeon barely grazed the rosy bud with the tip of his tongue, drawing it out. He traced his tongue slowly around her *reola, and the bud hardened against his tongue with each pass. A sound slipped from her throat, somewhere between a sigh and a m*an, or perhaps both.

Hoo.

He breathed hot air against her, and she pressed her chest further into him. He took her impossibly white br*ast greedily into his mouth and sucked until his cheeks hollowed. Hard enough to draw her body into his lungs. Her slight frame arched upward. Ikhyeon hurriedly undid his belt and pulled down his boxers, and his pent-up desire sprang free. She must have felt the recoil, because she let out a low cry.

“You’re the one who started this.”

Ikhyeon moved his lips to her other br*ast as a reminder. This insane game, Gu Morin—you’re the one who started it.

“Lift your knees.”

He tried to pull her underwear down, but it wasn’t easy.

“Ugh. I think I’m going to get a cramp.”

She lifted one leg and struggled to work the underwear off, panting.

“Why did no one warn me that car s*x is an extreme sport?”

Haha.

Ikhyeon laughed as he steadied her waist. Even her grumbling was endearing. He gripped her slender waist and pulled her down, slowly rubbing his c*ck back and forth against her warm, wet folds.

Haa.

She drew in a breath and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

The slick inner walls clung to his c*ck and pulled away with a wet sound. The two of them filled the car with their heated breathing and the soft sounds of friction, and the windows fogged over.

“Gu Morin.”

Ikhyeon called her name, reaching his limit. He couldn’t hold back any longer. She answered by pulling his neck tighter into her arms. Just as Ikhyeon lifted her hips and moved to push inside her, headlights swept over them both.

She let out a short scream. Ikhyeon quickly wrapped his arms around her head and shoulders.

D*mn it.

He grabbed the jacket thrown in the backseat and draped it over her. While the owner of those headlights parked, she kept her face buried in his chest and didn’t move. Only after the elevator doors closed did she finally exhale.

“Scared of your own shadow?”

Ikhyeon rubbed the top of her head with his chin and chuckled.

“Let’s go.”

He rolled her underwear up and tucked it into his pocket, then took her hand. On the way up, she seemed embarrassed, pressing her forehead into the corner of the elevator with her back turned to him. Ikhyeon smiled. Seokgeum used to do the same thing after getting into some mischief, burying his head in a corner. Still flushed, Ikhyeon stared at the elevator doors, which were taking unusually long to close tonight, and jabbed the button irritably.

The moment the front door shut, Ikhyeon scooped her up and carried her into the living room. In his urgency he headed for the sofa, but she shook her head. She must have remembered being thoroughly worked over on the sofa a few days ago.

“The dining table, then?”

Ikhyeon said it to tease her, and she smacked him on the back with a sharp slap. He cackled and dropped her onto the bed.

“Shoes.”

She lifted her foot. Ikhyeon knelt at the foot of the bed and undid the strap of her heels, which were laced around her ankles like ballet shoes. Even the coiled leather ties were enough to drive him mad.