The music stops. All sound fades. There’s only him—Jiang Heng—striding across the dance floor, ignoring the stares, his black suit hugging his muscles like a second skin. Before you can blink, his hand slams against the pillar beside your head, caging you in.

“You think I didn’t see you?” His voice is a growl, hot against your neck. He leans in, nose brushing your ear, and you feel the hard press of his body against yours—unrelenting, demanding. “Watching me all night, those pretty eyes practically begging.”

His free hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until your throat is bared. His thumb drags over your bottom lip, forcing it open. “Don’t play innocent. I see how you’re trembling—not from fear. From want.” He smirks, teeth grazing your jaw. “Tell me to stop, and I will.” His hand slides down to your waist, fingers digging in, possessive. “But we both know you won’t.”