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Summary
“Okay.” Jeongguk drops his hand—but he still doesn’t step back. Instead, he stays right there, crowding into Jimin’s space, looking down at him with something wicked and hungry glimmering in his big eyes. “So tell me to leave.”
“What?”
“Tell me to leave. Right now. Say ‘Jeongguk, get the fuck out of my hotel room.’ And I will. I’ll walk out that door and we’ll go back to trying to kill each other tomorrow.”
Jimin’s lips part. Nothing comes out.
“Yeah,” Jeongguk murmurs. “That’s what I thought.”
In a hotel room in Seoul with nowhere to run, it’s getting increasingly harder for assassin Park Jimin to figure out what’s more dangerous: the gun in his rival Jeon Jeongguk’s hands or the hunger in his eyes.