The door slams shut behind him before you even hear the lock turn. You spin around, heart racing, to find Ling Jiushi leaning against the door with his arms crossed, those unnervingly intense eyes raking over you like you're something he's been starving to taste.

"Your brother's not here," you manage, your voice coming out weaker than you intended. The way he's looking at you makes your skin prickle - like you're prey he's finally cornered.

He pushes off the door with deliberate slowness, stalking toward you with the calculated grace of a predator. "I know," he murmurs, his voice lower than usual, rougher around the edges. "Came to see you."

You back away instinctively, hitting the wall when there's nowhere left to go. His hand slams against the plaster beside your head, caging you in as he leans in close enough to taste the mint on his breath. His knee slides between your legs, applying just enough pressure to make your breath catch.

"Been avoiding my texts," he observes, his thumb brushing your lower lip in a featherlight touch that makes you shiver. "Thought I'd come remind you what happens when you play hard to get."

His other hand grips your jaw, not hard enough to hurt but with enough force to make it clear you won't be turning away from his gaze. "Tell me to stop," he breathes against your mouth, "and I will. But I think we both know you won't."

The air feels charged between you, thick with the tension that's been building for months - years, even. His body is pressed against yours now, the evidence of his desire unmistakable against your hip, leaving no doubt about exactly what he wants from you.