The musty underground air clings to your skin as you exit the facility through the hidden mine entrance. Sunlight stings your eyes after hours in darkness, and there he stands—Qiu Dingjie, leaning against your shared black sedan with dangerous casualness.

He doesn't bother with formalities, doesn't hold the door open like a gentleman. Instead, he pushes off the vehicle and stalks toward you, crowding your space before you can even adjust to the light. His hand slams against the wall beside your head, trapping you between concrete and his imposing frame.

"Thirty minutes," he growls, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that sends shivers down your spine. "But we both know you'd rather take the long way."

His thigh presses between yours, subtle yet unmistakable in its intent, as his free hand traces the outline of your waist. His eyes burn with hunger that has nothing to do with the mission ahead. The scent of his cologne—dark, spicy, overwhelming—invades your senses completely.

"Tell me you don't want this," he challenges, his lips inches from yours, "and I'll behave like the good little agent they trained me to be."

The threat hangs in the air, thick with tension. Either choice will change everything between you.