The heat is unbearable. It’s suffocating. I’m drowning in ginseng and winter, and I don't want to come up for air. Every nerve ending in my body is lighting up, firing signals that I don't know how to process. This is an Alpha.I’man Alpha. We’re supposed to be repelled by each other. We’re supposed to be fighting for dominance, not... this.
But the friction is electric. I’m grinding against him, seeking friction, seeking pressure.
And then I feel the ridge of hardness pressing firmly against my lower stomach.
My eyes fly open, staring blindly at the dark hair falling over his forehead, my breath catching in my throat. He’s hard. He’s rock hard.
And so am I.
We freeze.
The realization hits us both at the exact same second. It’s not just the kiss anymore. It’s the undeniable, rock-hard pressure grinding between our hips. I’m hard. Painfully, stupidly hard. And so is he.
We rip apart like magnets with the polarity suddenly reversed. I stumble back, my chest heaving, wiping my mouth with theback of my hand. I’m staring at him, wild-eyed, expecting to see disgust or confusion.
I don't.
Donghwa is breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling beneath that expensive coat, his lips swollen and red. His eyes are blown wide, the pupils swallowing the iris, dark and bottomless. He doesn't look like the bored, stoic freshman anymore. He looks like a predator that just woke up and realized there’s a steak in the room.
"You—" I start, but the word turns into a snarl.
I don't know what I’m doing. I don't know why I’m doing it. I just know that I need to win. I need to be on top. If I’m on top, then I’m the one in control. If I’m on top, this isn't a mistake; it’s a conquest.
I launch myself at him.
"Don't you look at me like that!" I shout, grabbing his shoulders and trying to shove him back.
Donghwa growls, a low, vibrating sound that I feel in my own bones, and catches my wrists. He doesn't stumble this time. He twists, using my own momentum against me. We crash into the small bedside table, sending a lamp shattering to the floor. The bulb pops, plunging the corner of the room into shadow, but I don't care.
"Get off!" I yell, trying to hook my leg behind his knee to trip him.
"Make me," he bites back, his voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it.
We’re a tangle of limbs and aggression, wrestling for purchase on the rug. I’m bigger—I have mass on him—but Donghwa is slippery. He’s lean and fast, and he knows where to put his weight. I manage to shove him toward the bed, thinking I have the advantage, but he grabs the front of my shirt and drags me down with him.
We hit the mattress hard. The springs shriek in protest.
I scramble, trying to get my knees under me, trying to mount him and pin his shoulders down. I need to assert dominance. I need to prove I’m the Alpha here.
"I’m going to wreck you," I pant, grabbing for his throat.
But then the scent hits me again.
It’s a concentrated burst, like a chemical bomb going off in the small room. As we grapple, his body heat spikes, and that smell of cold ink and bitter ginseng floods my nose. It’s overwhelming. It’s dizzying. My head spins, the room tilting on its axis. For a split second, my brain short-circuits. The biological signal is confusing—it’s Alpha, it’s rival, but it smells... right. It smells like something I want to bury my face in.
That second of hesitation costs me everything.
Donghwa moves. He doesn't fumble. He surges up from beneath me with terrifying strength, bucking his hips and rolling us over.
The world flips.
One second I’m on top, and the next, my face is being smashed into the duvet.
"Hey!" I shout, muffled by the fabric.
I try to kick out, to buck him off, but he’s already there. He settles his weight right over my thighs, pinning my legs to the mattress. He’s heavy—way heavier than he looks in those loose clothes. It’s dense, functional muscle, and I can’t get any leverage.
Panic flares in my chest. Real, genuine panic. I’ve never been pinned. I’m the one who pins people.
