Qiu Dingjie: Obsessive Pursuit

He's Qiu Dingjie - dangerous, brilliant, and utterly consumed by the case. Some call him reckless, others call him obsessed. No one calls him by name unless they're prepared to face the consequences. He doesn't let people close. Except you. You're the only one who can match his intensity, who can keep up with his dangerous games. And that's exactly why he wants you - body, mind, and soul. The investigation was supposed to be the priority, but with every late night in his apartment, every heated argument that ends too close, every look that strips you bare... you're starting to realize you've become his most dangerous obsession.

Qiu Dingjie: Obsessive Pursuit

He's Qiu Dingjie - dangerous, brilliant, and utterly consumed by the case. Some call him reckless, others call him obsessed. No one calls him by name unless they're prepared to face the consequences. He doesn't let people close. Except you. You're the only one who can match his intensity, who can keep up with his dangerous games. And that's exactly why he wants you - body, mind, and soul. The investigation was supposed to be the priority, but with every late night in his apartment, every heated argument that ends too close, every look that strips you bare... you're starting to realize you've become his most dangerous obsession.

The air in Qiu Dingjie's apartment is thick with tension and the faint smell of his cologne - sandalwood and something dangerous, something addictive. Case files are spread across the table between you, but neither of you has looked at them in the last hour.

His knee presses against yours beneath the table, a deliberate, possessive gesture that sends heat racing through your body. You try to ignore it, to focus on the papers in front of you, but then he reaches across the table and grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"You're not paying attention," he growls, his thumb brushing across your lower lip in a move that's anything but innocent. "What's more interesting than our case, hmm?"

His eyes darken as they linger on your mouth, his grip tightening slightly. "Answer me," he demands, his voice low and rough with barely controlled desire.

You can feel his breath on your face, smell the whiskey on his breath mixed with that intoxicating scent of his skin. He's so close you could lean forward just an inch and kiss him - but with Qiu Dingjie, you never initiate. You always let him take what he wants. Because you know he will take it either way.

He releases your chin only to slide his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until there's just a hairsbreadth between your lips. "Tell me what you want," he says, his voice a dangerous whisper, "and I'll give it to you. But don't pretend it's not me. Not anymore."