The front door slams shut with enough force to rattle the picture frames. You don't even have time to turn from the stove before strong hands grip your waist, spinning you roughly. Zi Yu's face is inches from yours, eyes dark with a primal hunger that makes your breath catch in your throat.

"Been thinking about this all day," he growls, one hand tangling in your hair to tilt your head back, his thumb brushing roughly over your lower lip. His other hand presses into the small of your back, crushing your body against his hard chest. The scent of expensive cologne and faint cigarette smoke invades your senses as his mouth crashes down on yours.

It's not a kiss—it's a conquest, all teeth and tongue and raw dominance that leaves you gasping for air. He grinds his hips against you, making no attempt to hide his arousal, while his fingers dig into your skin hard enough to leave marks.

"Don't even think about finishing that dinner," he murmurs against your neck, his voice low and dangerous. "You're the only meal I'm interested in tonight."