—"Are you trying to please me?"

≣

There was only one reasonable explanation as to why Jeon Jungkook was currently staring at another guy's ass — because he was fucking exhausted.

He was dead tired. Bone weary. Barely standing on his feet. And apparently, the only thing keeping him from falling asleep at this crowded and dimly lit bar was an invitingly plump ass.

An ass that belonged to a dude.

Now, Jungkook was well aware of how this looked. It looked like he was nothing but a player eyeing his next meaningless hookup. It looked like he was interested in getting up close and personal.

But he was neither of those things.

No . . . If someone were to call him a player, he'd have to question their sanity. Because not only had he never juggled multiple people at once, but he'd also never understood the fascination of sleeping around. What was the thrill of using another for their body? Of being used in return? And while Jungkook wouldn't call himself a hopeless romantic — he leaned more towards the realist side — he wanted someone to look at him like he meant something. He wanted to be more than just a nameless face.

Beyond that, Jungkook also wasn't interested; he had no intentions of sauntering up to the owner of that ass and introducing himself. Don't get him wrong, he was confident enough to admit when he found a guy attractive, but he never had the real desire of being with a man. Even if he once made out with his buff college roommate during a drunken game of truth or dare, that didn't mean he craved a repeat experience. Sure, it was nice — pleasant, even — but it wasn't anything to write home about.

So why exactly did Jungkook find himself in this predicament? Why did his poor, frazzled mind think it would be a good idea to space out as soon as some guy's ass was in his line of vision? And maybe even more importantly, why couldn't he bring himself to look away?

Fuck, he didn't know. He must be more tired than he thought.

And the sad thing? Even though it was past nine on a Tuesday evening, Jungkook wasn't done working for the day. Nope, not him. As soon as he finished the glass of red wine he twiddled between his fingers, he'd have to head home for yet another late night. His boss had given him a project right as he was leaving the office, smiling as she demanded the results by eight the next morning.

Oh, the joys of working for a major corporation.

But — and this was something Jungkook repeated so often that it'd become his personal mantra — he really shouldn't complain. He had only been promoted six months ago and still needed to prove himself. And besides, he had known this new job wouldn't be easy. He had expected an exceptional amount of hard work. And yet . . .

Jungkook had been a bit naive.

He'd been out of university for just short of a year, working at the same company but in a small Busan field office, when he received the promotion. The dream promotion, as his former manager had put it. The new gig had come with a higher salary and more strategic projects, as well as the need to move out of his parents' house and relocate to Seoul.

To the then twenty-three-year-old Jungkook, that had sounded a hell of a lot like freedom. It had sounded like he'd live a life of affluence, glamour, and sex. And what kid fresh out of college wouldn't want more cash than he'd know what to do with, access to the most exclusive of parties, and a number of beautiful people vying for his attention?

Everyone would want that. He had wanted that.

So with that seductive picture clouding his mind, Jungkook had packed his bags and said yes to the so-called opportunity of a lifetime:

The chance to work in investment banking.

Okay, yeah, Jungkook knew how that sounded. Data analysis, Excel spreadsheets, and PowerPoint presentations didn't exactly scream interesting or fun. The traditional uniform of stiff suits, gelled hair, and perfectly polished loafers lacked sex appeal and allowed for little individuality. And the amount of ass-kissing and manipulation needed to become successful was borderline unethical at times.

But there was more to the industry than just numbers and networking. There was this undeniable challenge of working in investment banking, this layer of competitiveness that required talented powerhouses to go head to head. And while being fresh meat in a dog-eat-dog world might have intimidated some, Jungkook had been motivated by it. He had been so incredibly captivated by the big money, big egos, and big dick energy surrounding the best of the best.

Really, Jungkook just wanted to be the best of the best.

But, as life tended to do, it shattered each one of Jungkook's unrealistic and overly ambitious dreams. Fuck . . . Nothing was what he had expected it to be.

Maybe most shockingly, the big money wasn't really big money. Yes, the money was good — it was more than what he made in Busan — but his salary didn't go that far in Seoul. Downtown apartments were fucking expensive, the price of a standard gym membership was three times what it should've been, and a couple of drinks at a bar cost him the same amount as a bottle of top-shelf vodka.

But okay, that was fine. The money would come with future bonuses and promotions. Plus, any overtime Jungkook worked would be compensated. And as he learned early on, there would always be overtime. Mandatory overtime. Fucking twenty hours of overtime every single week.

And since Jungkook was almost always chained to his desk, his fantasy of endless glamour and sex never became a reality. God, there was nothing glamorous about revising the same presentation over and over to include a portfolio manager's insignificant changes. There was nothing sexy about the dark circles and eye bags he typically sported when coming to bars like this. And thanks to his lackluster job description and fatigued appearance, the beautiful people he had hoped to attract didn't magically fall into his bed as often as he'd expected.

All of his far-fetched dreams of a perfect new life turned out to be just that: far-fetched.

Jungkook supposed he should've known better. He shouldn't have envisioned this world of lavish luxury and impressive social status just because he worked in a demanding industry. What he really should have expected? Deadlines, takeout, and — only if he was lucky — a pat on his shoulder congratulating him for a job well done.

Oh, yes. This was everything Jungkook had dreamed of and more.

So all of that had brought him to this moment, this bar. Well, technically, Jungkook's work mentor — Kim Seokjin, the literal poster child for Korean beauty standards — had brought him to this bar. Jin had convinced him to tag along, to decompress with a drink or two before starting on his project, but was now nowhere to be found.

Which left Jungkook all alone to stare at some random guy's ass.

Obviously, he hadn't intended for his eyes to lock in on any part of anyone; his mind had been too preoccupied with thoughts of work to really register what he was looking at. But when his brain had finally put two and two together — when it had identified that his attention had settled on someone's perfectly sculpted ass of all things — his first reaction had not been to look away. It had been to look up.

And what had Jungkook seen? Tanned skin that still managed to glow under the bar's dull lighting. Dark, unruly hair that appeared soft to the touch. Full lips parting to take a sip from a bottle of soju. An angular jaw, sculpted cheekbones, and a prominent Adam's apple.

He had seen a man.

A very handsome and classically beautiful man.

Upon that realization, Jungkook probably should have ended his blatant and rather obvious appraisal. He could have chalked it up to a silly mistake and saved himself from potential embarrassment. But he didn't do that. No . . . Jeon Jungkook allowed his gaze to appreciatively rake up and down the man's body before falling to that glorious ass once more.

Again, the only reasonable explanation for all of this was exhaustion — nothing more, nothing less. But still, that didn't explain why Jungkook couldn't find it within himself to stop looking. That didn't explain why he was now comparing his own ass to the stranger's, wondering how many squats he'd have to do to get a shape as nice as that. And that didn't explain why he once again glanced at the man's face — tracing over his defined features and glimpsing at his dark, glittering eyes — searching for god knows what.

But his exhaustion did explain one thing. It explained why it took a solid five seconds for Jungkook to realize that the man with the amazing ass was already looking back at him.

Peering up from under his lashes.

Smirking with those full, soju-slicked lips.

Raising his thick eyebrows in a clear challenge.

Oh, no.

Jungkook not-so-subtly whipped his head in the opposite direction, his cheeks growing hot and his heart lurching in his chest. If only his hair were as long as his college days — it used to fall to his jawline but was now cut right beneath his brows — he could use it to cover his burning face. But sadly, his shorter, more professional style didn't allow him to disappear. He couldn't hide from the fact that he'd been caught.

Fuck, was this karma or something? Was this the universe's way of reprimanding him for inappropriately ogling a stranger? It had to be, right? Well, okay, lesson learned. Jungkook would never look at anyone ever again. He'd walk around with his eyes closed if he had to and would—

Shit. Jungkook's eyes immediately betrayed him, flitting in the man's direction out of pure curiosity . . . or maybe just utter stupidity. Whatever the reason, it was a big mistake.

Because the man was still looking at him . . .

. . . and now he was heading Jungkook's way.

"Oh, no," Jungkook said aloud this time, retreating a couple of steps in an attempt to escape. But fuck him and his shitty karma and the stupid universe. His back hit a wall.

He had literally backed himself into a corner.

Lovely.

Jungkook forced himself to take a deep breath, figuring he could survive this mortifying experience by exuding a quiet confidence and remaining as poised as possible. Really, all he had to do was play it cool and apologize to this man, and then he could be well on his merry way. And maybe one day far — very far — into the future, he would be able to joke about this moment and laugh.

But he couldn't do any of that now, not as the stranger crossed the room with long, graceful strides. The space between their bodies steadily decreased until only a few centimeters separated their faces, which was close enough for Jungkook to hear the man over the noise of the crowded bar.

"Hey."

Wow, the guy's voice was surprisingly deep. It exuded this friendly warmth and compelling richness that barreled through Jungkook's veins, completely catching him off guard. And while he knew he should respond, should open his mouth to apologize, his brain couldn't seem to find the words.

So much for being confident and poised.

When he failed to return the greeting, the man let out a breathy chuckle through his pink-tinted lips. They looked so smooth — the opposite of Jungkook's own chapped lips — and shiny. Like, so shiny. Was he wearing lipgloss? The answer to that question came a moment later when the man's tongue poked out and swept over his lower lip, coating the area with a glossy sheen.

Oh.

Oh.

Jungkook tore his gaze away from the guy's mouth, swallowing hard as he realized he'd been staring again. God, what was with him tonight? First this poor stranger's ass and then his mouth . . . He didn't even want to consider what his sleepy brain would try to fixate on next if he didn't pull himself together.

"You can keep looking if you want," the man commented, the telltale signs of a smile coloring his voice. "I don't mind."

Jungkook's eyes widened as he shook his head, a new wave of warmth washing over his skin. He needed to set the record straight before he ended up humiliating himself even more. "I didn't mean . . . I'm not . . ."

The man cocked his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"I'm not interested," Jungkook practically blurted, wanting to speak loud enough so he didn't have to repeat the rejection. "Sorry."

A couple of long seconds ticked by where neither of them spoke, blinked, moved, did anything. The silence and stillness made Jungkook weirdly uncomfortable, almost to the point where he was tempted to start rambling. But before he could inadvertently do more damage, the guy let out another chuckle as he self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck.

"No? Fuck, this is embarrassing. I saw you staring and assumed that you were." He paused, the tip of his tongue once again darting out to wet his lips, before adding, "You know. Interested. In me."

This would've been the perfect opportunity to apologize — to grovel a bit, offer to buy the guy a sorry I kind of checked out your ass, please forget this ever happened sort of drink, then flee the bar for the safety of his apartment — but Jungkook's pride got the better of him. So rather than own up to everything like a mature adult, he did the complete opposite.

He denied.

"Wait, no," Jungkook said, all of his common sense flying out the window. "I wasn't staring."

The man gave him a pointed look. "Please. I saw those big doe eyes of yours honing in on my ass like it was a target you wanted to hit."

"No, I just . . . I . . ." Jungkook took a sip from his nearly empty wine glass, trying to compose himself enough to tell a somewhat believable lie without stammering. When he drained its contents, he placed the glass on a nearby table and shrugged. "I liked your pants."

"You what?"

"The pattern," Jungkook managed after peeking at the guy's pants and noting a material decked out with fancy designer logos. "Yeah. I thought I should get a pair for myself. Like, to wear to work."

"Ah," the guy drawled, bringing his own drink to his lips. He slowly and deliberately tipped back his head, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, before setting the bottle to the side. His mouth was glistening with the liquor as he mused, "The only reason your eyes were on my ass was because of fashion. Not because you're an ass man. Interesting."

Jungkook forced out a small laugh, hoping to sound indifferent. "There's nothing interesting about it. I just have taste."

"A man with taste. Yes, I can see that."

An inelegant huff slipped past Jungkook's lips as he scanned the room for an exit. He didn't want to put up with this teasing or mockery any longer, and besides, he really needed to start on his project. So, sparing the guy a quick glance, he said, "Alright, well, as fun as this has been, I have to—"

"What do you do for work?" The man cut in, his deep voice growing pitchier with genuine curiosity.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your job. The job that apparently leads you to stare at another dude's ass for fashion inspiration."

While Jungkook had fully planned on leaving, that comment had him leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. "You're not going to drop this, are you?"

There was a gleam in the man's eyes as he quipped, "It's not every day that I find a buttoned-up finance guy checking me out."

Jungkook purposely ignored the last part of that sentence. "How did you know I was in finance?"

"I didn't. Not really," the guy smirked, his lips slightly parting to reveal perfectly white teeth. He seemed all too pleased that he guessed correctly. "But considering most people who come here tend to work in that field, I had a feeling I was right. Plus, you all dress the same."

Looking around the bar, Jungkook found that almost everyone — himself included — wore a variation of the same outfit: ironed slacks, crisp long-sleeves rolled to the elbow, loosened ties. Together they made up an endless sea of blue, gray, and white with no pops of color or personality to be found. And though it was unlikely that everyone here worked in finance, there was a good possibility that the majority did. After all, they were right across the street from some of the largest financial institutions in the country.

The only person who stood out for having a unique sense of style was this man. He dressed comfortably yet fashionably in his brown patterned pants, a designer top unbuttoned to his sternum, and casual slides; it was evident that he didn't need to follow a professional dress code. And maybe even more notably, he wore a dangly gold earring that definitely wouldn't fly in a corporate environment.

"I'm an analyst at an investment bank," Jungkook said after a moment, absentmindedly tugging on one of his bare earlobes. The silver hoops he typically wore were at home; he wasn't allowed to wear any jewelry to the office. "Some may say that I'm living the dream."

"Are you? Living the dream, I mean."

"Oh, yes. Obviously." The sarcasm in Jungkook's tone was thick, making his over-exaggeration abundantly clear. But he shook that off as he changed the topic, curious to know more about his companion. "What about you? I have a hunch you don't work in finance."

"I don't, thankfully," the man began, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his pants. "I work in alternative touch therapy. And before you ask, no, that's not a polite way of saying prostitution."

A surprised laugh tore its way out of Jungkook's throat. "Good to know. But . . . What is alternative touch therapy? I don't think I've heard of it before."

The guy gave nothing away. "You should look it up."

"If it leads me to some sketchy porn site—"

"Relax. It's not going to."

"Tough to relax when a stranger is telling me to look up weird things on the internet," Jungkook retorted, though the corners of his mouth quirked up.

"Are you usually this hard to please?"

"Are you trying to please me?" God, Jungkook had no idea where that came from.

The man regarded him for a moment, that pink tongue of his once again licking over his lips. That had to be a habit or something. He leaned in closer, close enough for Jungkook to spot a small freckle on the tip of his nose, and said, "Now why would I want to do that? You can't even admit that you were drooling over my ass."

Jungkook covered his face with his hands, groaning loudly into his palms. "I didn't mean to stare at your ass, okay? I just . . . I zoned out."

Remarkably and quite unexpectedly, the guy stopped teasing. He instead let out an empathetic hum as he speculated, "Rough day?"

"Long day," Jungkook corrected, letting his hands drop as he looked back at the man. Standing this close together, he realized they were the exact same height. "Very long day."

Another hum rumbled in the guy's throat before he said, "If I had to bet, I'd say you're going to go home and work on a PowerPoint after this."

"An Excel spreadsheet, actually. But fuck, I guess that's sort of the same thing. How'd you know?"

"I'm all too familiar with you finance guys," the man replied casually, his hand waving in the air as if to dismiss the topic. "Anyway, I thought you all lived by that motto. You know the one. Work hard, play hard."

Oh, Jungkook knew that phrase. It was nothing but a charming gimmick to get employees to slave away for hours on end. Though he let out an amused snort, confessing, "I can't say I've done a lot of playing recently."

The guy pursed his lips together. "No?"

"Work is just . . . constant. I'm lucky if I get enough time to sleep, let alone play."

"Living the dream."

"Yeah," Jungkook agreed with a laugh. "It's a great opportunity and all, but sometimes I feel like I've forgotten how to relax."

"You sound like you need to cuddle a puppy," the guy supplied cheerfully, his eyes warming with the thought. He looked wholesome, almost as if snuggling a fluffy dog would solve all problems in the world.

Jungkook wished it was that easy. "Sadly, I don't think I have time for that."

"Well, then," the man murmured, the warm light in his eyes darkening to a devious twinkle. Suddenly that wholesome look was nowhere to be found. "Get laid."

"If I don't have time to cuddle a puppy, what makes you think I have time to date?"

"I didn't tell you to date, did I? I said to get laid. Those are two very different things," the guy replied without hesitation, steering their conversation down an unknown path. "Though I find it quite interesting that you thought of dating before getting laid. That says a lot about the kind of man you are."

Wow, Jungkook wished he was half as suave as this guy. But no, all he could do was gape with wide eyes and parted lips as he attempted to find an equally clever answer.

"Ah," he finally settled on. "You're flirting with me, aren't you?"

"I'm not. Though that disappointed frown on your face makes me think that you wish I were," the man responded, his eyebrows flicking up playfully.

"I am not frowning." Even still, Jungkook forced his features to slacken — just because he wanted to, obviously. "Besides, I'm not interested in you. Remember?"

A few seconds passed where the guy did nothing but narrow his eyes as he stared at Jungkook. It was too difficult to read him, too impossible to gauge the thoughts milling around in his head. So Jungkook stared right back, lifting his chin and refusing to say anything more.

"Alright," the guy said at last, his tone neutral. "I'll be your wingman. I'll help you get with anyone you want in this bar."

"And why would you do that?" It was a genuine question. Jungkook couldn't come up with any good reasons for this man — a stranger — to help him find someone to take home.

"I'm in need of some entertainment. So look around. Who's your type?" The man probed, watching Jungkook closely. It was like he wanted to trace his gaze, to see exactly who intrigued him.

But the thing was, no one in this bar intrigued Jungkook. Not really. Well . . . no one of the opposite sex, at least. So he shrugged, not bothering to search the room as he said, "There are barely any women here."

"Oh, come on. Don't give up that easily. There must be someone here who you find attractive." There it was again, that devious glint to the man's eyes.

"There's no one."

"No one at all? You sure about that?"

"I'm positive."

"Well," the guy smirked, "a pity then. If my services won't be required, I guess I should leave you to get started on that spreadsheet."

Right, the spreadsheet. With all the bantering and light teasing, Jungkook had momentarily forgotten about his project and impending deadline. Every single thought tied to work had been overtaken by his need to keep up with this stranger's witty repartee. But now that he remembered, he figured he should really head home.

Except he didn't move from his spot on the wall.

"But what about you?" Jungkook asked instead, his eyes roaming all over the guy's face as he waited. He would undoubtedly regret this later — like at two in the morning, when he'd be hitting his head against his laptop and wondering why the hell he went to the bar in the first place — though he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet. "Is there anyone here you find attractive?"

The man lifted one of his thick brows. "Are you offering to be my wingman? Or are you hoping that I'll point to you and say I find you attractive?"

"No. I mean, yes. Wait. No."

An unrestrained laugh fell from the guy's lips, the sound somehow both deep and airy at the same time. He took a small step back, the remnants of laughter coloring his voice as he said, "Trust me. I won't be going home alone tonight."

The guy winked in a playful yet slightly taunting manner, spinning on his heels and effortlessly weaving through the crowd. He didn't bother looking over his shoulder as he progressed deeper into the room, most likely knowing that Jungkook watched his retreat.

And Jungkook did watch. Fuck, he gawked like an idiot as he saw the man brush up against random people and slip between the narrow space between their bodies. He even craned his neck and lifted onto his toes when he eventually lost sight of his fascinating companion, hoping to catch one final parting look. But the man had disappeared from the room, leaving a dumbfounded Jungkook behind.

God, what the hell just happened?

Jungkook couldn't begin to process that encounter, so after one last scan of the room, he pushed off the wall. Nothing prevented him from leaving now — he could no longer use the presence of an intriguing stranger as a valid excuse — so he had to return home.

Home to work.

But as he navigated through the bar, his eyes sweeping over each patron in search of one specific face, Jungkook realized something rather disappointing.

He never got the man's name.

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》 V A L E N W R I T I N G 《

And so the fun begins . . .

AGAIN! After a one-year hiatus, License to Cuddle is officially back! Throughout my very long (and much-needed) break from writing, LTC was a story that always popped in and out of my mind. The characters, plot, and premise were too intriguing for me to let go of completely, so I hope LTC's return is a nice surprise!

I was planning on scrapping this story, but I loved this beginning chapter so much that I had to give it a second chance! I'm already obsessed with the chemistry between JK and our mystery man (who could he possibly be?!) — what did you all think of it?

LTC is already very close to my heart. I relate to JK's character so, so much and feel like I need to tell this story for my own sake. I hope you all can relate to it as well and are excited to see how everything plays out!