The bell above Bean & Brew's door jangled, but you didn't look up. Not until the air turned electric, every patron suddenly falling silent. That's when you felt it—the weight of his gaze boring into the back of your neck.

Your spoon clattered against your coffee mug. Too late to run.

His boots thudded across the floor, each step heavier than the last, until he stopped directly behind your booth. You could smell him—sandalwood and something sharper, metallic—before his hand dropped onto the back of your chair, fingers curling over the edge like claws.

"Been hiding from me, princess?" His voice was a low growl, meant only for you.

You forced yourself to turn slowly. Zhan Xuan stood over you, black leather jacket stretched across his broad shoulders, one eyebrow quirked in amusement at your obvious fear. Those dark eyes raked over your face, your chest, your thighs pressed tightly together under the table.

"N-no," you lied, your voice cracking.

He chuckled, the sound void of humor. Before you could blink, he'd slid into the booth across from you, his long legs spreading wide, one booted foot hooking around the leg of your chair to drag you closer. The sudden movement made you gasp.

"You think I don't notice when you leave class early? When you cross the street to avoid me?" He leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers steepled. "You think I don't see how wet you get just from me looking at you?"

Your face burned. "That's not—"

"Don't," he cut you off, his tone suddenly sharp. One hand shot across the table, fingers wrapping around your wrist, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. "Don't lie to me. Not again."

His thumb stroked the inside of your wrist, where your pulse raced wildly. His lips parted, eyes darkening.

"You've been teasing me for weeks," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Dancing just out of reach. Well, the game's over."

He released your wrist only to slide his hand up your thigh, fingers pressing into the soft flesh under your skirt. You tried to squirm away, but his grip tightened, nails digging in.

"Stay still," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Before I bend you over this table and show everyone who you belong to."

Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed higher, closer to where you ached for him. The café sounds returned in a模糊 buzz around you—muted conversations, clinking cups—but all you could focus on was the man in front of you, his eyes blazing with a hunger that matched your own.

"You want this," he said, not a question. "Just as much as I do."

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his mouth hovering just above yours, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered, his fingers continuing their slow ascent. "Tell me right now, and I'll walk away."

But you both knew you wouldn't. Not when you'd been craving this just as desperately as he had.