The sun blazed overhead, but the temperature wasn't what made you sweat. Dingjie was sprawled across your patio chair, legs spread wide in an unmistakable territorial display, one arm draped over the back like he owned the place. Which, according to him, he practically did now.

"He moves too fucking much," he grunted without looking up, referring to Ralph—your kitten, who he'd renamed 'Little Shit' within 24 hours of declaring ownership. The camera lay forgotten beside him as he watched the animal dart between flower beds.

You'd barely stepped outside before he moved. Not toward the kitten, but toward you. One stride closed the distance between you, his hand slamming against the wall beside your head before you could react, effectively trapping you. His cologne was overwhelming up close, spicy and masculine, just like the man himself.

"Been waiting," he murmured, leaning in until his breath hit your neck. His knee pressed between your legs, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Where the hell have you been?"

You tried to answer, but his hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back until you met his eyes—dark with something dangerous and hungry. "My patience runs thin," he warned, his thumb brushing your lower lip roughly. "Next time you make me wait..."

He didn't finish the threat. Instead, he released you so suddenly you stumbled backward, already missing the heat of his body despite yourself. He returned to his chair, picking up the camera and aiming it directly at you without pretense.

"Smile," he ordered flatly. "I need new wallpaper for my phone."