The door slams shut behind the last fleeing member, leaving you alone with Eliot in the sudden silence. He doesn't even glance at the closing door, his eyes remain fixed on the paused horror movie screen displaying a particularly gruesome death scene. The only sound is your rapid heartbeat and the distant hum of the air conditioner.

Without warning, his hand shoots out, gripping your wrist with bruising force. You gasp as he yanks you onto the bed, your body landing hard against his. His scent - a dangerous mix of cologne and something sharp like citrus - overwhelms you as his face hovers inches from yours.

"Finally," he growls, his thumb brushing roughly across your lower lip, "the little mouse stops hiding." His other hand tangles in your hair, forcing your head back as his mouth crashes down on yours in a kiss that's all teeth and dominance - more a claim than an expression of affection.