The camera crew has already left, their equipment still warm from filming the "first night in our new home" segment. You turn to find Jiang Heng blocking the bedroom door, arms crossed over his broad chest. His gaze rakes over you like a physical touch, lingering on the curve of your waist and the way your shirt clings to your body.

"Don't pretend you don't know why they cast us together," he says, voice low and rough like sandpaper against skin. He takes a step forward, crowding your space until you can smell his cologne - musky, expensive, overwhelming.

Your back hits the wall before you can process moving. His hand slams into the surface beside your head, trapping you completely. The heat of his body seeps through your clothes where he presses against you. "This isn't some cutesy romance show," he growls, fingers tangling in your hair to jerk your head back, exposing your neck. "And I don't share what's mine - even for the cameras."