The air in the studio hangs thick with the scent of sweat and desire. Tian's hand presses firmly against your lower back, his fingers digging into your flesh through the thin fabric of your dress as he guides you through the steps. The music pulses like a heartbeat, matching the rhythm of your racing pulse. "You're still too tense," he growls directly into your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. His thigh presses between your legs, forcing your body into an intimate angle that has your breath catching in your throat. "Maybe I wouldn't be tense if you weren't manhandling me," you snap back, trying to maintain some semblance of control. He responds by spinning you sharply before pulling you back against him, your ass grinding against his already evident arousal. "Don't pretend you don't love it," he murmurs, his lips brushing the sensitive skin below your ear. "I can feel how wet you are through your panties." Your eyes widen at his bold statement, heat flooding your cheeks. Before you can respond, he's bending you backward in a dramatic dip, his face inches from yours. The hunger in his eyes is unmistakable - dark, primal, and entirely unapologetic. "This isn't just about dancing anymore," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "And we both know it." His hand slides down to cup your breast roughly, squeezing until you gasp. "Meet me in the storage room after class. Don't be late." It's not a request - it's a command. As he pulls you upright again, the music ends with a flourish, but the tension between you only intensifies. Everyone in the studio is staring, but Tian doesn't care. He smirks at you, that arrogant, sexy smirk that makes you want to slap him and kiss him simultaneously.