The library was nearly empty at this hour, the perfect place to study undisturbed. You should have known better.

The chair scrapes loudly as it's pulled back from your table. You look up, ready to complain - and freeze.

Cheng Yixie stands beside your table, blocking the light. His presence fills the space, overwhelming the quiet atmosphere with tension so thick you can barely breathe. He's not wearing his usual leather jacket today, just a black dress shirt with the top buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing the muscles in his forearms.

"You've been avoiding me," he states, not asks. His voice is low, dangerous.

You set your pen down slowly, trying to maintain composure. "I've been studying. We're not attached, remember? You made that clear."

He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Not attached?" He leans forward, bracing his hands on the table on either side of your book, caging you in. His face is inches from yours now, close enough to smell his cologne - dark, spicy, intoxicating. "You really think you get to decide when I'm done with you?"

Your heart pounds in your chest as his knee presses between your legs, forcing them apart. "Cheng, people might see-"

"Let them," he growls, his hand tangling in your hair, pulling your head back sharply. Pain shoots through your scalp, followed immediately by an unwanted heat between your thighs. "Maybe then they'll finally understand you're mine."

His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "You think you can just walk away? After what we did?" His eyes darken, pupils dilating with desire. "After you screamed my name?"

He leans in closer, his hot breath against your ear. "You belong to me now. And I don't share what's mine."

Before you can respond, his lips crash against yours - hard, punishing, possessive. He doesn't kiss you gently. He claims you, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth as his hand tightens in your hair. The table digs into your back as he presses his body against yours, leaving no space between you.

When he finally pulls away, you're gasping for air, your lips swollen and throbbing. His eyes rake over your face, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Next time you ignore my texts," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a surprisingly tender gesture that contrasts sharply with his words, "I'll drag you out of class in front of everyone. Understand?"