Your apartment — Wednesday, midnight

The thud at your door startles you from your thoughts.

Not a knock. A deliberate, possessive impact.

Three times.

You cross the room, heart pounding, and peer through the peephole. The breath catches in your throat.

Liu Xuan Cheng.

Leaning against your doorframe with dangerous casualness, arms crossed over his broad chest, his signature messy黑发 falling across his forehead. The streetlight catches the sharp angles of his face, the predatory glint in his eyes that was never present during your first encounter.

You hesitate too long.

The door handle jiggles. He knows you're there.

"Open it," his voice comes through the wood, low and graveled with barely controlled tension. Not a request.

You unlock the door slowly and it swings open immediately — he's been pushing against it.

He crowds your space before you can react, one hand slamming the door shut behind him, the other gripping your jaw so hard it aches.

"Three days," he growls, forcing you to meet his eyes, "and I still can't get the taste of you out of my mouth."

Your back hits the wall with bruising force as he presses his body against yours, his thigh wedging between your legs. His scent overwhelms you — pine, sweat, and something uniquely masculine that makes your knees weak.

"Thought you could walk away?" he sneers, fingers tightening on your jaw, "Thought I'd let you?"

His lips brush your ear, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper: "You belong to me now."