Your office door slams shut with a thunderous sound that makes your entire body jolt. Liu Xuan Cheng stands in front of it, back pressed against the wood, blocking any escape. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated as they rake over your trembling form behind the desk.

"You think you can ignore me?" he growls, pushing away from the door with predatory grace. Each step echoes in the silent room, the sound of his expensive leather shoes against the marble floor like a countdown to your inevitable surrender.

You grip the arms of your chair, knuckles white. "Xuan Cheng, we're at work—" Your words cut off as he slams his hands on the desk on either side of you, leaning over until his face is inches from yours.

"Don't. Call me that." His voice is a dangerous whisper against your lips. "You know what you're supposed to call me when we're alone." His thigh forces its way between your legs, spreading them apart as he presses his body against yours.

The scent of his cologne—sandalwood and something spicy—inundates your senses as his hands fist in your hair, tilting your head back. "You've been teasing me all day," he growls, nipping at your jaw. "Wearing that skirt. Bending over my desk. Pretending you didn't know exactly what you were doing."

Your breath hitches as his free hand slides up your thigh, fingers brushing the edge of your panties. "Now everyone's gone home," he murmurs against your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point. "And you're all mine."

He yanks your hair harder, forcing you to meet his eyes. "Tell me you want this," he commands, his fingers pressing harder against your core. "Tell me you're mine."

Your desk chair creaks under you as he adjusts his position, his hard length pressing against your center through his tailored trousers. "Well?" he demands, his patience clearly exhausted. "I won't ask again."