The door clicked behind him, the soft sound echoing through the honeymoon suite. My chest tightened immediately. I had been pacing, restless, my mind spinning with frustration at his secrecy. Every time he disappeared without explanation, I felt both fear and curiosity—two emotions that twisted in my stomach until I could barely think straight.
"Shiyuan…" I called out, my voice low but firm.
He turned at once, those dark, sharp eyes locking onto mine. The faintest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. No. His eyes were cold, commanding, and entirely focused on me.
"What are you planning now?" I demanded, striding forward. My hands moved before I realized it—I pushed him gently against the balcony railing, pinning him in place. My heartbeat thundered in my chest. "What game is this? Why can't you just tell me anything?"
For a moment, he looked startled. Shock, even. I hadn't seen him like this before—bold, unrestrained, confrontational. A small thrill shot through me at the realization that he was affected by my actions, and it lit a fire I hadn't expected.
Then his gaze darkened. The playful smirk disappeared completely, replaced by something sharper, more dangerous. His hand moved, gripping my wrist lightly, yet firmly, guiding me closer against him. "Is that how you talk to me?" he asked, his voice low, controlled—but there was an undeniable heat to it, an edge I couldn't ignore.
I swallowed, suddenly aware of how close we were. My body pressed against his, and I could feel the warmth radiating off him, the subtle strength in his arms. My breath hitched slightly. "Yes," I whispered, almost unconsciously. "Because I don't know what else to do. You never tell me anything!"
His lips curved into a dangerous smile. "Is that so?" His other hand moved to my waist, holding me in place with a possessive firmness that made my knees weak. "You think you can corner me, Lin? You think you can challenge me and walk away unscathed?"
I looked up at him, meeting the intensity in his eyes. I didn't answer. I couldn't. There was no denying the effect his presence had on me. My pulse raced, my chest tightened, and a flush spread across my cheeks.
Without warning, he leaned closer, brushing his lips against my temple, a whisper of heat and possession. "You're mine," he murmured, almost a growl, his breath warm against my skin. I shivered, a mixture of fear and excitement pooling in my stomach.
I found myself leaning into him despite every rational thought screaming otherwise. My hands found his chest, feeling the hard lines beneath his shirt, the tension in his muscles. He pulled me impossibly closer, until our bodies were pressed together, every inch of contact electric.
His lips moved to my neck, soft at first, teasing, and then firmer, claiming. I gasped, arching slightly against him, surrendering to the heat that had been simmering between us for days. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. He groaned softly, the sound vibrating against my lips, and I felt a shiver run through me.
"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he murmured against my skin, his hands roaming possessively along my back. The dominant edge in his voice sent a thrill through me that I couldn't resist. "Do you know how much I want you?"
I trembled, the words caught somewhere between shock and desire. "I… I don't know," I admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
He didn't need an answer. His lips captured mine in a heated, demanding kiss. I moaned softly, surrendering to him completely, letting go of every ounce of hesitation. His hands gripped my hips, holding me in place, and my hands traced the lines of his shoulders and chest, memorizing the strength that pressed me against him.
The balcony faded away. The city lights, the ocean breeze, the world outside — none of it mattered. There was only him, and the fire between us. Every kiss, every brush of his lips along my skin, made me ache, made me feel alive in ways I hadn't realized I could.
He pulled back just slightly, resting his forehead against mine, eyes dark and intense. "You're bold," he said, voice husky. "And I like that. But don't think you can push me around."
I laughed breathlessly, my fingers still clutching his shirt. "And you like it when I do, don't you?"
A dark chuckle escaped him. "You have no idea." He kissed me again, slower this time, almost savoring the control, the possession, the connection. Every brush of his lips, every gentle grip of his hands, was a declaration: I was his, completely and irrevocably.
The night stretched on, a tangled dance of whispered words, lingering touches, and heated embraces. His dominance was clear, unwavering, yet every action was laced with care — possessive, yes, but never cruel. I surrendered, letting myself feel desire in its purest, most intoxicating form. I felt seen, desired, and wanted in a way that left me trembling, flushed, and dizzy.
Hours passed in a haze of heat and closeness. Every brush of skin against skin, every stolen kiss, every possessive touch drew us deeper into each other. I was caught in the fire of him — his control, his dominance, his unyielding desire. And I didn't want to escape.
By the time we finally collapsed into the bed, wrapped in each other's arms, sweat gleaming lightly on our skin, the room was silent except for our ragged breaths. I could feel his heartbeat against mine, steady and strong, possessive and unwavering. I nestled into his chest, my hair clinging to his damp neck, and for the first time, I let myself relax entirely, safe in the heat and dominance of his presence.
He held me close, one hand brushing through my hair, the other wrapped securely around my waist. "You're mine," he whispered again, low and commanding, almost a growl. "Publicly, privately, always."
I closed my eyes, the words sinking deep, a mixture of awe, fear, and excitement flooding through me. For the first time, I realized that this man — dangerous, dominant, and utterly possessive — was the only one I wanted, the only one I could truly surrender to.
And as the night stretched on, tangled in sheets and sweat, in whispers and heated touches, I understood: there was no turning back.
I belonged to him.