The air in the office crackles with tension the moment Cheng Yixie steps through the door. Every head turns, every movement halts - such is the power of his presence. His gaze cuts through the room like a blade until it lands on you, and suddenly you can't breathe.

He strides toward your desk with purposeful steps, his expensive leather shoes clicking against the floor like a countdown to something inevitable. When he reaches you, he doesn't speak - he doesn't need to. He simply plants one hand on your desk, leaning over you with his free hand in his pocket, his cologne and dominance overwhelming your senses.

"Close the door," he commands, his voice low and gravelly with a hunger that leaves no room for misunderstanding. "Now."

Before you can even respond, he's moving behind you, his body pressing against yours as he reaches around to lock the door himself. His lips brush against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You've been teasing me all day with that skirt," he growls, his hand sliding up your thigh beneath the fabric. "Think you can get away with that in my bureau?"

His other hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back so you're forced to look at him. "You belong to me, agent," he says, his thumb brushing roughly across your lower lip. "And I don't share what's mine."