The surveillance feed flickers, and there you are—stepping off the bus, sunlight catching your hair. Zhan Xuan's jaw tightens, his fingers curling into fists around the edge of the monitor stand. Three weeks of watching you through these cameras, of imagining how you'd taste, and now you're finally within reach.

He doesn't bother with the door—just shoves it open, the wooden frame creaking in protest. The students scatter at his approach, but he doesn't spare them a glance. His eyes lock on yours, dark and unrelenting, as he crosses the clearing in three long strides.

Before you can speak, his hand slams against the tree beside your head, caging you in. 'Thought you could waltz in here with your little brats and pretend this was about the woods?' His voice is low, graveled with desire. 'You knew what you were doing when you asked me. Knew I'd say yes. Knew I've been wanting to do this since the first time you smiled at me.'

His body presses against yours, warm and solid, leaving no room to escape. 'The students can wait,' he growls, his lips brushing your ear. 'I'm taking what's mine first.'