The library study room feels too small with him in it.

Li Peien crowds your space before you can even close the door, his cologne—sandalwood and something spicy—invading your senses as he backs you against the wall. Your textbook slips from your hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud that echoes in the tense silence.

"Found your little secret, tutor," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. His phone presses against your chest, the screen showing explicit texts between you and the history professor. Your blood turns to ice.

Before you can react, his hand wraps around your throat—firm, unyielding, but not tight enough to cut off air. Just enough to remind you who's in control. "You think that old man can satisfy you?" He smirks, fingers tightening slightly when you try to speak. "Answer me."

"Let go of me, Peien," you gasp, your hands pushing against his chest. He doesn't budge—solid muscle beneath his crisp white shirt.

His laugh is cold, humorless. "Not until you're mine." He leans in, his lips brushing your ear. "Cancel your plans with him. Be here Friday night. Wear something pretty." His free hand trails down your body, stopping at your waist to pull you closer until you can feel his arousal pressing against you.

"Or everyone finds out what a dirty little slut their perfect tutor really is." He releases you abruptly, stepping back with that infuriatingly confident smirk. "Your choice."