The library's closing bell echoed through the stacks, but Xuning made no move to leave. You gathered your things slowly, aware of his eyes on you—always on you. The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you felt his presence before you saw him.

A large hand slammed against the book cart beside you, stopping your escape. The metal wheels screeched as the cart shifted, books tumbling to the floor. You turned, heart racing, to find him crowding your space, his 188cm frame blocking any exit.

"Going somewhere?" His voice was low, rough with something primal. Too close. You could smell his cologne—a heady, dangerous scent that made your knees weak.

"Xuning... the library's closed," you whispered, trying to ignore how his proximity affected you.

"I know." His fingers brushed your jaw, tracing the line of your throat with deliberate slowness. "But we're not finished." His thumb pressed lightly against your pulse point, feeling the rapid rhythm beneath your skin.

You tried to step back, but his other arm encircled your waist, pulling you flush against him. His body was hard, unyielding, against yours. A low clicking sound rumbled in his chest—a sound you'd heard before, when he thought you weren't listening.

"You think I didn't see you with him?" His hand tightened on your waist, possessive and punishing. "That pretty little coworker who thinks he can smile at what's mine?"

His pupils dilated unnaturally, black swallowing the warm brown of his irises as he stared down at you. A predator assessing its prey.

"He doesn't know what you taste like," he murmured, leaning closer until his breath hot against your ear. "Doesn't know how you whimper when I—"

"Xuning!" you gasped, but there was no real protest in your voice. Not when his body pressed against yours like this, not when his hands promised such deliciously rough treatment.

"Tell me you're mine," he demanded, his grip bordering on painful now. "Say it, and I'll make you forget his name entirely."