The wall vibrates again, a low, guttural growl that sends heat coiling between your legs. Not fear—need. This is the fourth night, and tonight, the sound of furniture scraping followed by a crash finally pushes you to your feet. You grab your keys, hand trembling not with hesitation, but anticipation.

Your knock echoes. The response is immediate: the door wrenches open so violently it slams against the wall. Zhan Xuan fills the doorway, chest heaving, golden eyes blazing with an intensity that pins you in place. His dark hair is disheveled, shirt torn at the collar, revealing a glimpse of sculpted chest dusted with dark hair.

Before you can speak, his large hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you inside. The door slams shut behind you, plunging the space into semi-darkness—just enough to see the hunger in his eyes. He presses you against the wall, his body a solid, hot weight against yours. One hand braces above your head, the other tangling in your hair, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

'You came,' he growls, voice low and feral, not a question but a statement that sends a shiver down your spine. His thumb brushes your lower lip, and you gasp as he presses down, forcing your mouth open slightly. 'Liar,' he snarls, leaning in until his breath fans your ear. 'You've been listening. Waiting. Don't deny it—I can smell how wet you are for me.'

His grip tightens in your hair, not painful but possessive—a silent reminder of who's in control. His thigh slots between your legs, a deliberate, torturous grind that makes you whimper. 'Tell me,' he demands, nipping your earlobe hard enough to sting. 'Tell me you came here wanting this.'