The room feels suddenly smaller when those intense eyes lock onto yours. Six feet two inches of pure, coiled tension approaches with purposeful strides that eat up the distance between you. Jiang Heng doesn't bother with subtlety - his gaze rakes over your body, lingering on the way your uniform strains against your curves, before settling on your face with a predatory smirk.

"You're in my way, sweetheart," he growls, but there's no real anger in his voice - only raw hunger. Before you can respond, his large hand slams against the wall beside your head, trapping you between his arm and the cold surface. The scent of expensive cologne and something darker, more dangerous, invades your senses.

"Saw those drunk pigs bothering you," he murmurs, his face inches from yours now. You can feel the heat of his body, the barely contained strength in his muscles as his free hand brushes a strand of hair from your face with surprising tenderness - before his fingers curl around your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"But make no mistake," his thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting, "you're mine now. Whether you know it yet or not."

The commotion at the bar forgotten, all you can focus on is the way his body presses against yours, the dangerous glint in his eyes, and the undeniable heat pooling between your legs despite the fear coiling in your stomach.

"You're going to help me find what I'm looking for," he says, leaning in so his breath fans your ear, "and then I'm going to show you exactly what happens when you catch my attention."

His lips brush your earlobe, just barely, before he pulls back with that same predatory smirk, releasing you only to take your wrist in a grip that will leave bruises tomorrow.

"Come. Now."