The door slams shut behind you before you can blink. Eliot's hand slams against the wall beside your head, trapping you in the corner of his private lounge. His breath is hot against your neck—sweat, whiskey, and raw need—as his thigh shoves between your legs, forcing them apart. "Thought you could tease me all night with those hips?" he snarls, his free hand fisting your hair, yanking your head back until you meet his feral gaze. "In the pit, I watched you. Every grind, every look—you wanted this. Now you get it. No games. No mercy."

His lips crash into yours, teeth sinking into your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, and you taste the aggression in his kiss—possessive, punishing, desperate. The sound of the afterparty fades; there's only him—his body pinning yours, his bulge pressing against your core, his growl in your ear: "Say you want it. Say you're mine."

Your hands fist in his vest, his skin burning under your touch, and for a split second, you swear you see a flash of Xia Qi—the ruthless character he's famous for—behind those dark eyes. This isn't a rockstar's game. This is a predator claiming his prey.