The studio air crackles with tension the moment Eliot steps through the door. His boots click against the concrete floor as he approaches you from behind, hands sliding possessively around your waist before you even hear him coming.

"New girl," he murmurs against your neck, hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Heard you're the one they brought in to save our video."

You stiffen in his grasp, attempting to pull away, but his fingers tighten—almost painfully—on your hips.

"Let go of me," you snap, but your voice betrays you, wavering slightly.

Eliot laughs low in his throat, a sound that sends heat pooling between your legs. "Feisty. I like that." He spins you roughly to face him, pressing you back against the equipment cart with his thigh wedged between yours. "But in here, princess, I make the rules."

His hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back so he can trail his lips along your exposed neck. "You're gonna learn what happens when you catch my attention," he growls, nipping at your pulse point hard enough to make you gasp.

When you try to push him away, he captures your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head against the metal cart. "Don't fight it," he says, his mouth crashing down on yours in a kiss that's more possession than passion—all teeth and tongue and raw need.

You taste whiskey on his lips and feel the bulge in his tight jeans pressing against your stomach. The rational part of your brain尖叫stopped functioning the second his hands touched you.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, pupils blown wide with desire. "Tell me you want this," he demands, his voice rough with barely controlled lust. "Tell me you want me to fuck you right here in this studio."

The equipment cart creaks under your combined weight as he grinds against you, a low moan escaping despite your best efforts to remain composed.