Chapter 33: Out of Control
Living with Min-ho was turning out to be an absolute emotional minefield for Clara. Not only did she have to navigate the overwhelming tension between them during the day, but she also had to keep her secret life alive. To continue working on her new book, she had to resort to writing in the dead of night. For hours, she sat at her desk in the dark, her heart pounding with the constant, paralyzing fear that Min-ho might suddenly walk into her room and catch her logged into her author account.
But the nights weren't the only challenge. Clara found it borderline impossible to sit still and calmly sip her coffee in the morning when Min-ho casually strolled into the kitchen wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and a loose silk robe.
He sipped his coffee, completely relaxed, occasionally looking up as he scrolled through the news on his tablet. Clara tried to look anywhere else, but her eyes kept darting back to his broad, bare chest. Her mind traitorously flashed back to the hospital, remembering just how incredibly safe and warm it had felt to be held in those strong arms.
Min-ho paused, catching her staring. A slow, knowing smirk played on his lips. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes! Everything is perfectly fine," Clara squeaked, clearing her throat quickly. "But... why don't you have a shirt on?"
"I always sleep like this," he replied smoothly, leaning against the counter. He tilted his head, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "Why? Do I make you nervous?"
"Pfft, please. Not at all," Clara lied, crossing her arms defensively. "I just thought we agreed to keep a clear, cool head while we live under the same roof."
Min-ho's smirk widened into a dangerous, breathtaking smile. "As I recall, you decided to keep a cool head, and I simply agreed to it. But that doesn't mean I can't try to make you change your mind."
Clara instantly choked on her coffee, coughing as her face turned bright red. He's doing this on purpose! He's actively trying to provoke me!
"Aha," she gasped out, wiping her mouth. "Well, no need to worry. You can keep trying all you want, it doesn't bother me at all. I am absolutely not falling for your provocations. Now, I'm going to take a shower. Alone, just so you know."
Min-ho didn't miss a beat, his voice dripping with playful amusement. "No problem. Call me if you need me."
Over the next few days, Min-ho didn't make things any easier. He utilized every single opportunity to be near her, dropping ambiguous, flirtatious remarks whenever he could. They rode to the drama set together every morning and returned together every evening. During work hours, Clara managed to keep her distance, but back at the penthouse, avoiding him became an impossible task. Out of sheer self-preservation, she started spending most of her time hiding in her room.
Until one night.
Clara had been writing for hours, and her throat was completely parched. Needing a fresh glass of water, she finally slipped out of her room. She was wearing only her underwear and a short, cropped tank top. She was used to walking around like this at home; Lukas had seen her like this a thousand times and never cared. Plus, it was incredibly late. She was certain everyone was asleep.
Silently, she padded down the stairs in the dark, turning on only a dim, ambient light in the kitchen so she wouldn't wake Min-ho. She opened the refrigerator door, closing her eyes for a brief second to enjoy the rush of cool, refreshing air against her skin.
Which was why she was completely caught off guard when she suddenly felt a massive, familiar wave of warmth radiating against her back.
Before she could even gasp, Min-ho's hand clamped around her forearm. In one swift, powerful motion, he spun her around, pinning her back against the open refrigerator. He caught her wrist, holding her arm firmly above her head, effectively trapping her between the cold fridge and the burning heat of his body.
Startled, Clara's eyes went wide. "Min-ho! What in the world are you doing?! I'm not a burglar!"
"I know," Min-ho murmured, his voice husky and dangerously low. "I wouldn't treat a burglar like this."
Clara's mind reeled, completely confused by the raw intensity radiating off him. "Do you think you're being gentle right now? Because I have the distinct impression you're trying to fight me."
"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to hurt you," Min-ho whispered, but he didn't loosen his grip. His eyes dropped, taking in her exposed skin, before locking back onto her gaze. "It's just... when I saw you standing here, looking like this... I couldn't control myself anymore. And to be completely honest with you, Clara... I don't want to control myself anymore."
Clara swallowed hard, her pulse skyrocketing. Min-ho leaned in closer, mere inches from her face. She could see the fire blazing in his dark eyes—he looked like a predator ready to claim his prey.
"Min-ho... stop. Please, stop," Clara managed to whisper, her voice trembling. It took every ounce of her remaining strength to say those words, because deep down, a part of her didn't want him to stop at all. "I need you to let me go."
It was just as hard for Clara to say it as it was for Min-ho to actually do it. He stared at her lips for one agonizing, breathless second, his jaw clenching. Then, slowly, he released her arm and stepped back.
Clara stood frozen for a fraction of a second, her heart hammering against her ribs, before she turned and bolted up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her.