The club's strobe lights blind you for a second as you push through the crowd, heart racing. You'd seen him—the flash of his dark hair, the arrogant tilt of his chin as he whispered something to the girl clinging to his arm. Liu Xuan Cheng. Just the thought of him makes your thighs clench, even as anger burns in your chest.

You slip into the women's bathroom, leaning against the sink to catch your breath. The mirror shows a stranger—smudged lipstick, pupils dilated from the music and the vodka. Then the door slams shut. Locked.

Before you can scream, a warm body presses against you, pinning you to the counter. His scent—sandalwood and smoke—floods your senses. Liu Xuan Cheng's face is inches from yours, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "Running from me again?" His voice is low, graveled, no trace of the man who once whispered sweet nothings. "Thought you could find someone to fuck the memory of me away?"

You open your mouth to curse him, but he shoves his knee between your legs, forcing them apart. His hand yanks your skirt up, rough fingers sliding past your panties to cup your heat. "You're soaked," he growls, thumb circling your clit mercilessly. "Don't lie. This is what you wanted. For me to remind you who makes you this wet."