My Summer in Seoul

He didn’t say anything, just handed the phone back, then seemed to be searching for a word. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and touched his face. “Makeup.”

“Ohhh, tattoo makeup?” I pointed to his hands and pretended to cover mine up with a makeup sponge. “To cover them up?”

He nodded and returned to his tea. He seemed so relaxed, deep in thought, I almost wanted to stay up just to learn this new side of him, but it somehow felt holy, like this was his time.

“I like them,” I finally said.

“I like them too.” His English was slow, but it was good, almost like he was trying to think way too hard before saying anything out loud even though everything he did say was flawless.

“Get more,” I encouraged.

He laughed softly. “Maybe more.”

“Thank you.” I hopped off the stool. “For the number and”—I lifted the mug—“this.”

He nodded his head and went back to drinking his tea and staring at his own phone, wildly texting someone.

Huh, I wonder if each guy had their secrets, and I just hadn’t been paying attention. Kai had Solia, Lucas and I had each other, I assumed Jay had his own that he hadn’t been willing to admit yet, despite rumors about him and Dae-Jung, which left Sookie, who was so in tune with his phone screen I knew someone had to be on the other side.

That just left Rae.

I wanted to groan.

The guy who had kissed me.

It was a friendly kiss, my brain argued.

My heart disagreed.

Lucas was probably sleeping, but I tried sending him a text anyway—the guilt wouldn’t let me sleep.

Ugh, he was going to be so mad.

Did I even tell him?

Would it cause issues?

Or was I being selfish, wanting to clear my own conscience?

I fired off a text anyway. “It’s Grace. Are you up?”

It said it was delivered, but no response came, even though I saw the bubbles pop up. When they disappeared and didn’t pop up again after a few minutes, I finally gave up and turned off all the lights.

I was just getting comfortable when a soft knock sounded at my door.

Sookie? Did he need something?

I was wearing nothing but a thin tank top and booty shorts, so I quickly put on a long sweatshirt that made it look like I was wearing no pants, but whatever; it still covered more than the shorts. I tiptoed to the door, opening it a crack.

And then fully to allow Lucas into the room.

Oh shit, did he think this was a booty call?

I was ready to hold up my hands when he shut the door behind him. All I could hear was our heavy breathing and the buzzing in my own ears as he stared me down, wearing nothing but low-slung white sweats.

His six-pack was on full display, so much perfect skin that my fingers itched to touch, my tongue screamed to lick, and my brain nearly blew up the room.

Had he asked me for my address, I would have laughed dumbly and said, “the States.”

“What’s wrong?” His voice was thick with sleep making him sound even sexier; his red hair was a hot mess poking in all directions.

I reached up and ran my fingers through it, calming it down only to hook my hands behind his neck and pull him in for a hug. “You need sleep.”

“Don’t tell me what I need,” he whispered against my neck.

I was so screwed with this guy, wasn’t I?

“You should sleep too,” he said.

“Don’t tell me what I need.” I copied his answer.

We both pulled away.

I licked my lips and blurted, “Rae kissed me. It was a sneak attack. He said he was taking me for a company thank you dinner, but it felt like a date, and none of you guys came, and I just didn’t want you to think—I mean, I have no clue what you’d think I just couldn’t, I couldn’t sleep—”

His mouth was on mine, devouring the next word, swallowing it whole, making every memory of that night disappear as he lifted me into his arms and carried me to my own bed. Our mouths never left each other until he pulled my sweatshirt over my head and tossed it. We both clearly failed our bet, but I didn’t care.

I arched toward him when he ran a hand down my breasts; the flimsy material was doing nothing to hide my response.

His dark chuckle wasn’t helping anything either. Did they teach that in idol school or trainee school or whatever it was called, too?

“Lucas.” I tried to focus while his mouth was on my neck, moving toward the straps of my tank top, pulling them off my shoulders; his mouth was so possessive, so hot. “This is serious, I feel horrible, it’s not okay, it’s—”

“He likes you.” Lucas pulled back, his expression dark. “Let him try to steal a kiss that wasn’t his to steal.” His nostrils flared. “Did you want it?”