The baby monitor emits a soft crackle from the kitchen counter as Zhan Xuan pins you against the cold glass of the sliding door, one hand tangled in your hair, the other pressing roughly against your lower back to pull you closer. Outside, rain lashes against the windows of his private tennis complex - the one he built after retiring, after the scandal that made his name toxic in professional circuits.

"You think I'd let you walk away from me again?" His voice is a low growl against your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. "Let you run around that court like you're still some unattainable prize?"

Your protest dies in your throat as his knee forces your legs apart, his body grinding against yours with brutal intent. The diamond of his tennis championship ring digs into your hip through the thin fabric of your workout clothes.

"That body belongs to me now," he whispers, fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts, his touch burning like fire. "Every inch of you. Every breath. That baby inside you didn't change that - it only made you more mine."

The baby's distant cry echoes through the monitor, but neither of you moves. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and feral with possession. "You want to play tennis again? Then you'll play by my rules. On my court. For my pleasure."

He bites your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, then kisses you roughly, tasting the metallic tang of it on your tongue. "Understand?"