The office is empty, the only sound your racing heartbeat and the scratch of your pen across paper. You should have left hours ago, but the stack of edits on your desk seemed never-ending. Now, you regret every minute you stayed late.

The door to your cubicle slams open. Not a knock, not a warning—just the sound of wood hitting drywall, making you jump. Tian Xuning stands in the doorway, his black suit jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms. His eyes lock on yours, dark and hungry, and he moves toward you like a storm.

Before you can stand, he's there, one hand slamming down on the desk on either side of your hips, caging you in. You're trapped, his scent—smoke and cedar, dark and intoxicating—surrounding you. His face is inches from yours, and you can feel his hot breath on your lips.

"Thought you could hide from me?" His voice is a growl, rough with barely contained desire. He doesn't wait for an answer, his hand sliding into your hair, fisting it tightly to tilt your head back. Pain shoots through your scalp, but it only makes your pulse race faster.

"Every time you walk past my office," he mutters, his lips brushing your jaw, "I think about bending you over my desk. About how you'd scream when I—"

He cuts himself off with a groan, his free hand sliding under your shirt, fingers digging into your skin. You gasp, arching into his touch despite yourself. This is wrong, so wrong—but when he nips at your neck, you find yourself clutching his shoulders, pulling him closer.