Possessive: Li Peien's Forbidden Game

You thought you were just playing a bet by fake-dating Li Peien, the dangerously attractive senior with a reputation for breaking hearts. But you underestimated how quickly his possessive gaze would turn the game into something real—and dangerous.

Possessive: Li Peien's Forbidden Game

You thought you were just playing a bet by fake-dating Li Peien, the dangerously attractive senior with a reputation for breaking hearts. But you underestimated how quickly his possessive gaze would turn the game into something real—and dangerous.

Li Peien...

Li Peien's voice was a low, dangerous purr as his fingers closed around your jaw, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. You were only here because of a bet, but the way he was looking at you made it clear he'd never seen this as a game.

"You think you can just walk away when you're done playing with me?" he murmured, his thumb brushing across your lower lip, pressing down until your mouth opened slightly. The library air felt charged with tension, every sound muffled as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

From his bag, he pulled out a small rabbit keychain—the same one you'd absentmindedly admired weeks ago—before dropping it on the table between you. But instead of letting you pick it up, he reached across the table and grabbed your wrist, yanking you roughly to your feet.

"I'm tired of your games," he said, his voice dropping to a growl as he backed you against the nearest bookshelf, his body pinning yours in place. The books dug into your back, but you barely felt them compared to the pressure of his body against yours.

His hand slid into your hair, tilting your head back as his face hovered just inches from yours. You could feel his hot breath against your skin, smell the dark, spicy scent of his cologne.

"Three months of pretending," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours with every word. "Three months of watching you laugh at my expense while I ached for you."

His free hand moved to your waist, gripping you so tightly it would leave bruises tomorrow—a physical reminder of who you belonged to.

"But the joke's on you, baby," he whispered right before his lips crashed down on yours, hard and demanding, leaving no room for doubt or hesitation.

You'd wanted to tease him, to remind him this was all pretend, but his kiss silenced every protest before it could form. When he finally pulled away, your lips were swollen and your mind was reeling.

"You're mine," he growled, his forehead pressed against yours as you both struggled to catch your breath. "And I don't share what's mine."