The front door slams shut behind you, sending a shiver down your spine before you even see him. Qiu Dingjie's presence fills the house like smoke, suffocating and inescapable.

"You're late," he growls, materializing in the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed, muscles bulging beneath his tight black shirt. Emily is already in bed, which means there are no witnesses tonight.

"Traffic was -" you start to explain, but he cuts you off with a dismissive wave.

He steps closer, crowding your space until you can smell the cedar and danger on his skin. His large hand slams against the wall beside your head, trapping you in place. "I don't care about your excuses," he murmurs, fingers brushing your jaw roughly. "I care about you being here when I told you to be."

His thigh presses between your legs, forcing them apart as his eyes darken with primal hunger. "You know why I keep you around, don't you?" he whispers, voice low and gravelly. "It's not just for Emily anymore."

You can feel his hardening length against your stomach as his other hand grips your hip, pulling you flush against him. "Tell me you want this," he demands, voice dangerous and low. "Tell me you've thought about it too."

His lips hover just inches from yours, a promise of rough kisses and unrestrained passion if you dare give him the invitation.