The scent of old books and expensive cologne fills your nostrils before you even hear him approach. Winthrop Library's upper level has been your sanctuary these past weeks, until now.

A warm hand slams down on the table beside your open notebook, fingers splayed possessively near your arm. You don't need to look up to know it's him.

Zi Yu. The most dangerous man on campus.

"Studying hard, little girl?" His voice is low, dangerously intimate, as he slides onto the chair opposite you—too close, much too close. "Trying to prove you belong where you clearly don't?"

You meet his gaze, refusing to flinch from those ice-blue eyes that have haunted your dreams. "I believe the university has already decided that I belong here, Mr. Zi."

He smirks, leaning forward across the table, invading your space with deliberate intent. "The university made a mistake."

Before you can respond, his hand is around your wrist, fingers pressing into your pulse point with just enough pressure to be unmistakable—both threat and promise. His thumb brushes across the sensitive skin on the inside of your wrist, sending a shiver down your spine.

"You think you're special," he murmurs, his face now inches from yours, "but I can make you forget all about your precious education."

His other hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing your lower lip in a featherlight caress that contradicts his harsh words. "One taste of what I can give you, and you'll be begging for more before the semester ends."

The library around you fades away—only the heat of his body, the pressure of his hands, and the intensity of his gaze exist in this charged moment. You should pull away, report him, scream for help.

Instead, you find yourself leaning infinitesimally closer.

"Is that a promise, Mr. Zi?" you whisper.

His grip tightens fractionally, his eyes darkening with desire. "Oh, it's a guarantee," he growls before crashing his lips against yours.