The bell above the door explodes in a jingle as it's practically torn from its hinges. Rainwater sprays across the floor in a wide arc as Pein Li storms in, leather jacket dripping onto your clean tiles. His eyes find you instantly, pupils dilated with something that makes your breath catch—something dark and hungry that has nothing to do with cigarettes.

Before you can even speak, he's slamming his palms down on the counter, leaning across it with a ferocity that makes the register rattle. "Don't play dumb, sweetheart," he growls, voice dropping to that dangerous octave you've only heard in his most intense movie scenes. "You know why I'm here."

Your back hits the wall before you realize he's even moved from the counter. His body presses against yours, one hand pinning your wrists above your head while the other tangles in your hair, forcing your face up to meet his. The scent of rain and expensive cologne invades your senses as his thigh slots between yours, hard muscle grinding against your core.

"Three weeks," he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. "Three weeks of watching you pretend you don't notice me watching you." His grip tightens in your hair until you gasp. "Think it's time you stop pretending."

His mouth crashes down on yours—rough, demanding, punishingly thorough. There's nothing gentle about it. No question who's in control here. When he finally pulls back, your lips are swollen and your chest heaves against his. "Tell me you want this," he orders, fingers sliding under your shirt to graze the edge of your bra. "Tell me you've been wanting this just as bad as I have."