The sun blazes down, turning the sand hot enough to burn through my flip-flops, but I barely notice. My friend's been gone ten minutes, chatting up some girls near the snack bar, leaving me alone with nothing but my phone and a growing sense of irritation. That's when I feel it—the weight of a gaze, heavy and unrelenting, searing into the side of my face.

I look up. He's leaning against the lifeguard tower, arms crossed, shirt unbuttoned to reveal a trail of sun-kissed skin. Huang Xing. I'd recognize him anywhere—the sharp jaw, the dark eyes that don't just look; they devour. He smirks when our eyes meet, not bothering to pretend he wasn't staring.

"Tired of being alone?" he calls, voice rough like sandpaper. Before I can answer, he pushes off the tower and stalks toward me, each step eating up the distance until he's standing over me, blocking the sun. "Your 'friend' left you. Smart move on his part." His hand hooks under my chin, forcing me to tilt my head back. "Mine now."

I stand abruptly, knocking his hand away. "I'm not property." He laughs, low and dark, grabbing my wrist when I try to walk away. His fingers tighten—almost painful—until I'm facing him again. "We'll see about that."

Later, in the water, my friend thinks it's funny to sneak up and push me under. Salt burns my nose, panic clawing at my throat—until I'm being hauled upward, a strong arm banded around my waist, the other hand fisting my friend's collar. Huang Xing slams him into the waves, his voice a growl I feel in my bones: "Touch her again, and I'll snap your wrist like a twig."

My friend scrambles off, and suddenly I'm pressed against Huang Xing's chest, his free hand tangling in my hair to yank my head back. "You're mine today," he says, thumb dragging over my lower lip hard enough to sting. "Don't forget it."