* * *

Doha held his breath briefly, as if composing himself, before speaking slowly.

“At first, I thought if I changed things little by little, feelings would develop… but I couldn’t see the end. I couldn’t even tell what I was capable of.”

“……”

“Just thinking about moments without you drove me mad, imagining myself useless and foolish.”

Doha’s voice was calm as he laid out these truths, yet a faint tremble betrayed him, like a young man making his first confession.

His chest heaved, his breath trembling against my neck.

Carefully, I gripped the hem of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric.

“Do you understand what you’re saying?”

“Where would I find the time to look back? I’m busy enough just moving forward. That’s why I’ve come this far.”

In that moment, I saw him as he truly was—this man who’d had to learn about business from a young age, forced to leave the warmth of home and carve out his own path.

Though hard work was expected of anyone, the burden of managing this massive company alone must’ve weighed heavily on him.

To others, he might seem like a privileged man who’s had everything handed to him.

But the struggles he’d fought behind the scenes had long been hidden by his background.

Maybe that’s why I had to fight so hard to stay by his side, because in him, I saw a reflection of myself—a glimpse of a different future, perhaps even a slightly better one.

Despite his youth, Doha had endured constant dismissal.

Yet he kept going, determined to build a stable company.

We worked late night after night, often catching brief naps in the car between meetings and skipping meals as a matter of course.

But no one would know the full extent of his efforts or what it took to survive all of this.

Moments spent with Doha came flooding back—the meals shared across the table, the sunrise at Jeongdongjin on New Year’s, and the quiet drink we shared as we listened to the Boshingak bell ring.

Eight years was no short time.

Looking back, he was there at every turn, always thoughtful in ways I hadn’t noticed.

How much must he have longed for me?

How many regrets did he carry?

A man who could have anything, waiting on just me, content only to watch from a distance.

My heart swelled, but words failed me. I tried to speak, but only empty breaths slipped past my lips.

Doha seemed to understand, softly calling my name.

“Yul-ah.”

He lifted his head from my shoulder and gave a faint, sorrowful smile that instinctively drew my hand to his face.

Though he shed no tears, I could feel the quiet sorrow in his expression.

Gently, I traced my fingers along his eyes, and he took my wrist, pressing tender kisses along my fingertips.

“I want to wake up beside you on my bed, spend the day together… but I realized that doesn’t mean it’s love, does it?”

“We’re still nothing to each other. We haven’t even started.”

“This feeling has been mine alone for a long time. So let’s start together now.”

Raw, unpolished feelings spilled into me, touching deep in my chest.

Doha leaned close, his breath almost brushing my skin.

“So please… give me this chance.”

“I don’t have anything to offer, Doha. If I think about it logically…”

Despite our countless kisses, this one tasted faintly of salt, perhaps from tears.

His lips traveled from mine to my cheek, my nose, my eyelids, and my forehead, in a series of reverent kisses that carried no trace of lust.

“I love you.”

The simple phrase was whispered, his thumb gently brushing my cheek as if each word carried all his sincerity.

“Just keep me. Give up everything else.”

“Then I’d really be left with nothing.”

“That’s not true.”

“…”

“I already have everything, so all you have to take is me.”

His childlike answer made me laugh. I was torn between laughter and tears, and a whirlwind of emotions.

Seeing my smile, Doha continued to kiss me as if he might wear down my lips entirely with his gentle, yearning affection.

The elevator reached the top floor, and before I could say a word, he cupped my neck and lowered his head.

The sound of our mingling breaths grew more intense as our lips met and parted, again and again.

My skin, cooled by the early morning breeze, flushed with sudden heat.

Doha lifted me effortlessly, aligning our eyes, and my toes dangled midair.

The brief loss of his warmth made me reach out, touching the line where his jaw met his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

In that brief moment, a flood of unrestrained passion ignited between us.

Standing in front of a large door, Doha held me up with one hand and fumbled for the key card with the other.

His hand kept swiping the card reader, frustrated as he tried to unlock the door.

I gave him a quick, reassuring kiss.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

His chest rose, as if he were trying to steady himself, and the door finally opened.

Before it even fully closed, his foot hit the floor as he seized my neck, devouring my lips.

My back hit the wall with a rough impact, and instead of pain, I felt a dangerous thrill, my body trembling with anticipation.

“Maybe we should slow…”

But before I could finish, his lips were back on mine, sealing my breath within him.

Our gasps filled the air as he finally allowed a brief distance, my hips bumping against something solid.

As I regained my senses, I realized we were in the suite’s private office on the top floor of the hotel.

The color drained from my face as he slid off my thick cardigan and began unbuttoning my thin shirt.

“Here… you want to do it here?”

“Yes.”

“The bedroom is right there.”

“We’d have to walk a bit to get there.”

“Then let’s…”

My sentence was cut off as he kissed me.

I instinctively opened my mouth, letting him claim my tongue, his touch lingering with a coldness that turned into searing heat wherever his hand traveled up my torso.

His kisses covered my face, each one gentler, as he cupped the back of my head.

My back eventually hit the hard surface of the table behind me.

I let out a soft groan, and he briefly released my lips, only to nibble playfully on my lower lip.

I found myself awkwardly reaching for another kiss, and he chuckled, nipping my tongue gently.

“You seem to like kissing more than I do.”

That’s only because you’re so good at it.

Instead of speaking, I leaned in closer, and he slid his tongue along mine, drawing out each movement, savoring the contact.

His gentle patience contrasted the earlier urgency, his touch filled with tenderness.

He gave me a look as if asking why I’d paused, lifting my wrist to his mouth to press a kiss into my palm, even lightly licking it.

I held my breath, a strange anticipation building in my stomach as his tongue traced the line of my middle finger, pulling it into his mouth.

A shiver ran through me as I watched him, his gaze focused on me with such intensity.

My face burned red, and he smirked, a mischievous smile that sent a fresh rush of heat through me.

Unable to handle the lingering, wet sound of his kisses, I finally pushed him away, though he quickly backed off with a faint string of saliva connecting his lips and my fingers before breaking.

“Can… can we go to the bedroom?”

“That might be a problem.”

“Why?”

He guided my hand to his chest, where I felt his heart pounding fiercely.

His neck was flushed red too. With my wrist in his grasp, he slowly guided my hand down, until my palm was met with a firm warmth that made my eyes flutter.

His arousal was undeniable.

“I’m already… worked up.”

He then moved his hand towards my lower abdomen.

Though not as evident as his, the heat there made my face flush deeply.

“And so are you.”

For over two months, we hadn’t been intimate.

I’d almost started believing his insatiable appetite had finally settled, feeling a subtle relief—though it seems that was just a fleeting hope.

If I counted right, it wasn’t even two months; it had been nearly three.

During that long stretch, he hadn’t shown any signs of relieving himself, not even remotely.

Even as my pheromones flared up at random, he endured it all in silence.

Still, it wasn’t happening in a conference-room-like setting.

Just as I was about to suggest we go to the bed, my pants and underwear were pulled down in one swift motion.

Feeling exposed and vulnerable, I instinctively tried to bring my legs together, but Doha’s hand grasped my knee, keeping them apart.

Crossing his arms, he slipped off his comfortable sweatshirt, then swept his disheveled hair back with one hand.

A short exhale escaped him, and his fingers grazed down to my perineum.

Slowly, he traced around the entrance, already damp, and then moved his hand back up, leaving cool air clinging to where the moisture had gathered.

“Ahh…”

His hand drifted down to caress my rigid length, his touch hovering just enough to tease.

Lips parting in a stifled gasp, I managed to get out, “Just… hurry up… please.”

With that, his thick fingers slipped into me, gently parting as they entered.

Each time his long fingers twisted within, pressing against my inner walls like a serpent, a tightness coiled in my abdomen.

My already slick walls clenched tightly in response, as if welcoming the unfamiliar intrusion.

Before I knew it, there were two fingers inside, and he pressed exactly where he knew I always felt it.

Instantly, a surge of potent pheromones burst from him, cascading over me as if intent on consuming me.

Each breath felt like it was setting my entire body ablaze.

* * *