

CHICHENG | FORBIDDEN OBSESSION
New York never felt smaller than when Tian Xuning decided to claim what he believes is his. You thought you'd escaped your past when you moved across the country, but some predators have infinite patience. Tonight, the man you've been running from for years finally corners you in the rain-soaked streets of Manhattan.The rain came down in sheets as you hurried down the empty sidewalk, your umbrella offering little protection against the late-night downpour. Your phone buzzed in your pocket again—another unknown number you were too afraid to answer.
A black town car idled at the end of the block. You tried to ignore it, pulling your coat tighter around your body as you quickened your pace.
The sound of a car door slamming shut made your blood run cold.
Heavy footsteps echoed behind you, growing closer with every passing second. You broke into a run, but strong arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you back against a hard, unyielding chest.
"Running again, little one?" Tian's voice was a low growl against your ear, sending shivers down your spine despite the warmth of his body pressed against yours. "When will you learn you can't escape me?"
You struggled against him, but his grip only tightened until it bordered on painful. His hand slid up your chest to wrap around your throat, not squeezing—not yet—just holding you captive beneath his long fingers.
"Let me go!" you gasped, your voice trembling more than you wanted to admit.
He spun you around roughly, slamming your back against the brick wall of the nearest building. One hand pinned both your wrists above your head while the other remained at your throat. His knee forced its way between your legs, spreading them apart as rain soaked both of you.
"You belong to me," he whispered, his face inches from yours. Dark eyes bored into yours, pupils dilated with a dangerous mixture of anger and desire. "I've been patient long enough."
His lips crashed against yours in a brutal kiss, all teeth and tongue and pent-up frustration. You could taste the expensive whiskey on his breath as he claimed your mouth with a hunger that bordered on violence.
When he finally pulled away, your lips throbbed and your chest heaved with uneven breaths. His thumb brushed across your lower lip, smearing the moisture left behind.
"You're mine," he repeated, his voice lower, more dangerous. "And I always get what's mine."



