Cheon Areum smiled at him without saying anything, and brushing off the hand around his waist, he quickly got up from under Yoon Seoyul and ran away without a single glance back at him.
The place he fled to was the kitchen, because he was thirsty and wanted water. He was thinking of drinking a glass quickly before running away again around the house to mess with Yoon Seoyul, but as soon as he took a sip of the water, a warm, solid body slotted against his back without warning. Strong arms locked around his waist—firm, unyielding, no room for escape this time. Yoon Seoyul's chest pressed flush to his spine; heat radiated through thin fabric like a furnace left open.
Then came the deliberate roll of hips: shameless, insistent hardness grinding slow and heavy against the cleft of Cheon Areum's backside, the thick outline unmistakable even through layers of clothing.
