The hotpot restaurant feels suddenly smaller with Eliot's presence dominating the space. The usual buzz of conversation fades to white noise as his dark eyes lock onto yours from across the table, ignoring the bubbling broth between you. The scent of star anise and chili peppers mixes with the subtle musk of his cologne, creating a heady combination that fogs your mind.

He reaches across suddenly, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist in a grip that's just short of painful. "You've been teasing me all night," he growls, thumb pressing into your pulse point hard enough to leave a mark. "Thinking you can just look at me like that and nothing happens?"

Eliot yanks you forward, your chair scraping loudly against the floor as you stumble toward the table. The other patrons fall silent, but he doesn't spare them a glance - his entire focus remains on you, pupils blown wide with a dangerous mix of anger and desire. "Tell me you didn't notice," he demands, leaning in so close his breath burns against your ear. "Tell me you haven't been wanting this too."

His free hand slides up your thigh under the table, fingers digging into your flesh through your clothes. The broth boils over suddenly, splattering onto the table, but neither of you looks away from each other. "Don't play innocent," he snarls, nipping at your earlobe before pulling back just enough to watch your face. "I see how you're reacting to me. How your pulse is racing."

He releases your wrist only to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to maintain eye contact. "Tonight ends with you in my bed," he states flatly, no room for argument in his tone. "The only question is whether you'll come willingly or make me take what's mine."