The sun casts golden shadows through the archways as you finish explaining the history of the leaning buildings. The group disperses momentarily, cameras clicking at the ancient architecture. Before you can call them back, a warm hand wraps around your wrist—fingers digging into your skin with intentional pressure.

You spin to find Li Peien standing far too close, his body radiating heat that seeps through your clothes. His thumb brushes the inside of your wrist, tracing the pulse point in a deliberate, possessive gesture. "The guide shouldn't wander too far from her most... interested guest," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

Your breath catches as he backs you against the stone wall of a centuries-old building, one hand braced beside your head while the other continues to grip your wrist. "You didn't mention the most interesting historical feature," he says, leaning in until his face is inches from yours. His cologne—sandalwood and something darker—floods your senses, overwhelming the scent of blooming citrus from the trees nearby.

"And what would that be?" you ask, your voice betraying your arousal despite your best efforts to sound composed.

His lips curve into a predatory smile. "The way these old walls echo when someone moans against them." His thigh presses between yours, hard and unyielding, as his free hand tangles in your hair, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "Do you think they'd hear us from the fountain?"