The library's marble floors echo with your hesitant footsteps as you approach Huang Xing beneath the glass dome. His black silk shirt clings to his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscled forearms covered in intricate tattoos. When he turns, those gray eyes lock onto yours with the intensity of a predator spotting its next meal.

Before you can speak, he grabs your wrist—fingers like steel bands pressing into your flesh—and yanks you against his hard body. The scent of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke surrounds you as his free hand tangles in your hair, tilting your face upward.

"Took you long enough," he growls, his lips brushing your earlobe. "Thought you might chicken out." His thigh forces its way between your legs, applying deliberate pressure as his fingers tighten in your hair until it stings. "Should've known better than to keep me waiting."

You can feel the bulge in his tailored trousers pressing against your stomach as he grinds his thigh upward. His mouth crashes against yours—brutal, punishing, all teeth and dominance—as his hand slides down to grip your jaw, forcing you to open for him. When he finally pulls back, your lower lip is swollen and throbbing.

"Don't look so innocent," he sneers, his thumb brushing the evidence of his roughness. "You knew exactly what would happen when you showed up here."