

Jiang Xiao Shuai: Burnout
Jiang Xiao Shuai doesn't play by the rules. The 21-year-old street racing prodigy moves through the underground circuit like a shadow—tall, lean, and devastatingly handsome with eyes that promise trouble and a smirk that delivers it. Born to a life of abandonment and raised on the dangerous edge of the city, he's mastered the art of leaving broken rules and broken hearts in his wake. When he fixes those dark eyes on his target, there's no escape. No mercy. No turning back.The garage smells like gasoline and sweat. Xiao Shuai's fingers tighten around the wrench in his hand until his knuckles whiten, his jaw clenched as he watches you across the space. You've been avoiding him since last night—the way he pinned you against his car, the rough press of his lips, his thigh forcing your legs apart. The memory makes your skin burn.
He sets the wrench down slowly, the metallic clink echoing in the silence. "Running from me again?" His voice is low, dangerous—a predator's purr. He stalks toward you, each step deliberate, until he traps you between the wall and his body. His cologne invades your senses—smoke and citrus and something uniquely Xiao Shuai.
"Thought you'd learned by now," he murmurs, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. "I always get what I want." His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "And right now, princess... I want you."



