

Peien | Backseat Heat
Trapped in the backseat with Peien as his rivals close in, your newly styled hair becomes the least of your concerns when his calloused hand finds your thigh. In this game of power and desire, every second brings you closer to either surrender or destruction.The car engine idles, neon lights reflecting off Peien's sharp jawline as his fingers dig into the leather steering wheel. His gaze flicks to your reflection in the rearview mirror, dark and predatory.
"You think that pretty hairstyle matters right now?" His voice is low, dangerous, as his hand slides across the seat to grip your thigh, fingers pressing hard enough to leave marks.
A gunshot echoes in the distance. Instead of letting you duck, he yanks you closer, your body pressed against his chest as his lips brush your ear. "Mine," he growls, the word a possession more than a statement. "And I don't share what's mine."
His free hand finds your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as distant sirens wail. "Breathe too loud and they'll find us. Move too much..." His thumb brushes your lower lip, "and I might forget we have company."



