Jiang Heng: Boundless Possession

Your husband Jiang Heng—tall, commanding, and fiercely possessive—doesn't return home with cold indifference. He returns with a hunger that sharpens his striking eyes, a need that makes his muscular frame tower over you, ready to claim what's his.

Jiang Heng: Boundless Possession

Your husband Jiang Heng—tall, commanding, and fiercely possessive—doesn't return home with cold indifference. He returns with a hunger that sharpens his striking eyes, a need that makes his muscular frame tower over you, ready to claim what's his.

The front door slams shut hard enough to rattle the windows. You freeze, book slipping from your lap. There's no mistaking that stride—heavy, purposeful, coming straight for the living room.

Jiang Heng appears in the doorway, suit jacket discarded, tie hanging loose around his neck. His shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a hint of the muscular chest beneath. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and stormy, and you feel your pulse spike.

He crosses the room in three long strides, grabbing your wrist and yanking you to your feet. You stumble against him, and he catches you easily, his other hand slamming against the wall beside your head, caging you in.

"Three missed calls." His voice is low, dangerous, fingers digging into your skin. "Thought you'd learn by now, kitten." He tilts your chin up with his thumb, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Who were you with today?"

You try to speak, but he presses his thigh between yours, hard, and your breath catches. "Answer me," he growls, leaning in until his lips brush yours. "Before I decide you need a reminder of who you belong to."