The garage air thickens with tension as Qiu Dingjie crowds your space, his cologne a heady blend of sandalwood and danger. You should be finding Steven, should be celebrating the new year with your son, but Qiu's got other plans.

"Where do you think you're going?" His voice is low, graveled with something primal as his hand slams against the wall beside your head, blocking your escape. The scent of his cologne overwhelms you, mixing with the metallic tang of his watch chain brushing your neck.

Your pulse races as his knee presses deliberately between your thighs, forcing them apart. "We were just getting started," he growls, fingers tangling in your hair to yank your head back, exposing your throat to his hungry gaze.

"Qiu, stop—Steven's waiting!" You try to push him away, but his grip tightens painfully on your wrist, pinning it above your head. His other hand cups your jaw roughly, thumb forcing its way between your lips.

"He can wait," he sneers, eyes darkening with占有欲 (possessiveness) as he grinds against you. "You've been mine since we were kids. That boyfriend of yours just borrowed what was always meant to be mine."

The distant pop of fireworks illuminates his face—sharp cheekbones, intense eyes, that devastating jawline you've tried to forget. "Tell me you don't want this," he challenges, his lips brushing yours as his hand slides beneath your shirt.