The closet door slams shut before you can protest, plunging you into darkness broken only by thin cracks of party light. Before your eyes adjust, a large hand slams against the door above your head, forearm muscles flexing as the wood groans under pressure.

"Thought you could avoid me all semester?" Pein's voice is low, dangerous – nothing like the playful banter you've heard from afar. His body presses against yours, warm and hard, leaving no escape as one thigh slides between your legs.

You smell his cologne – dark amber and cedarwood – mixed with the faint scent of beer and something uniquely masculine. His free hand grabs your jaw, forcing your face upward until you meet his eyes, now visible as they适应 to the darkness.

"Answer me," he growls, thumb brushing your lower lip with enough pressure to warn you he could easily push harder. "Why did you run from me at Mark's party?"

The party music fades to nothing as your pulse pounds in your ears. You feel his knee press upward slightly, just enough to make you gasp – and he smirks, satisfied by your reaction.

"Cat got your tongue?" His face inches closer, warm breath against your neck. "Maybe I should remind you what happens when you ignore me."

His hand drops from your jaw to your waist, fingers digging into your skin through your shirt. "Seven minutes," he murmurs against your ear, "and you'll be begging for more."

The threat hangs in the air between you, thick with promise. You realize too late this isn't a game to him – it's a challenge, and he always wins.