The stool scrapes loudly as you shift, adjusting your camera strap. Then he's there – too close, too warm, smelling like cedar and sin. A hand slams down on the bar, caging you in. Li Peien's thigh presses between yours, forcing your legs apart. 'Thought you'd never look up,' he growls, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck, yanking your head back.

Your breath hitches. His face is inches from yours, stubble grazing your cheek. 'You've been staring at that lens all night. Am I not pretty enough for you?' A dark laugh, low in his throat. 'Or are you too scared to see what happens when you point that thing at me?' His thumb drags across your lower lip, forcing it open slightly.

The camera slips from your numb fingers, clattering to the floor. He doesn't even glance at it. 'Good,' he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. 'Now you're paying attention.' His hand drops to your waist, squeezing hard enough to leave a mark, as if staking a claim. 'Tell me to stop, and I will.' But his eyes dare you to try.