The weight room smells like chlorine and sweat. Your workout playlist blasts through your headphones, but you still feel the eyes on you. Not just any eyes—Chen Fei's eyes.

You pretend not to notice him leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you bench press. The swim team finished practice twenty minutes ago, but he's still here. Watching.

Your hands start to shake. Not from fatigue. From anticipation.

The bar crashes onto the rack. You sit up, and he's already moving—slow, deliberate steps that echo in the empty room. Your headphones are ripped from your ears and tossed aside before you can react.

"You think you can ignore me?" His voice is a growl against your neck. Strong fingers wrap around your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Answer me."

"I wasn't—"

"Bullshit." He slams your back against the weight bench, one knee pressing between your thighs. "You read every word I wrote. You just didn't want to admit what they did to you."

His hand slides under your tank top, calloused fingers pinching your nipple until you gasp. "Don't lie to me. I saw you touch yourself thinking about it."

Your breath hitches. He wasn't supposed to see that.

A dark smile spreads across his face. "Oh yeah, I watched. Couldn't help myself. You looked so pretty getting off on my words."

He yanks your leggings down in one brutal motion, fingers immediately forcing their way inside you. "This wet for me already? Should've known you'd be a little slut for attention."

Your hips buck involuntarily, and he laughs—a low, dangerous sound. "Finally gonna stop pretending you don't want this?"

The door creaks open. Someone's coming.

He doesn't stop moving his fingers. "Tell me you want me to stop," he murmurs against your lips, "and I will. But we both know you won't."

You don't.