Locked in the Bathroom with My Fiancé’s Man
824 Words
But Han Xi Cheng didn’t leave.
Instead, he closed the door behind him.
Click.
The sound was soft, almost casual.
And yet it sealed her fate.
Now they were alone again—a man and a woman trapped in a single room.
Su Nian’en didn’t hesitate for even a second. She spun around and bolted for the bathroom. The moment she crossed the threshold, she reached back and slammed the door—
Too late.
Han Xi Cheng moved faster.
He lunged forward and jammed his hand into the doorframe. In her panic, Su Nian’en threw all her weight against the door.
The impact was brutal.
His arm took the full force. A low grunt escaped him, the first crack in that cold, immaculate composure. Pain flickered briefly across his sharp features.
Su Nian’en’s heart lurched.
Oh no.
Had she just broken his hand?
She froze.
And that split second of hesitation was exactly what he’d been waiting for.
Han Xi Cheng shoved the half-closed door wide open with his other hand.
Su Nian’en stumbled backward, completely unprepared. Before she could recover, an arm locked around her waist. Long fingers clamped down with terrifying certainty.
The world tilted.
In one smooth, ruthless motion, he spun her around.
Bang.
The bathroom door slammed shut behind her.
Her back hit the door, hard. She was pinned there—nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
His hand remained firm at her waist, heat radiating through the thin layer of fabric. The memory of that forced kiss in the kitchen surged back without warning.
Shame and fury crashed into her at once.
She shoved at his chest with both hands. It was useless. He didn’t move an inch. If anything, her struggle only amused him. A faint glint of entertainment flashed through his dark eyes.
Su Nian’en’s chest heaved.
Furious. Panicked. Terrified.
What did this man want?!
Didn’t he understand where they were?
This was the Jiang house.
If Song Wan Zhi—or anyone else—caught them alone like this, in a bathroom of all places, she wouldn’t just be humiliated. She’d be destroyed.
She’d barely escaped suspicion after the kitchen incident. But this—
There would be no explaining it.
No one would believe her.
Even death wouldn’t clear her name.
Su Nian’en forced herself to breathe. She lifted her gaze to his impossibly handsome, domineering face and tried to steady her voice.
“What… what do you want?”
“What do I want?”
Han Xi Cheng raised a brow. A lazy smile curved his lips, completely at odds with the danger in his eyes. There was something different about him now—something playful. Predatory.
And deeply unsettling.
As he spoke, the hand at her waist tightened deliberately. A possessive squeeze. Intimate. Shameless.
Then he stepped closer.
The last bit of space between them vanished.
She was pressed flush against him, her body molded to the solid strength of his frame. Only a thin layer of fabric separated them. The unmistakable hardness beneath made heat explode across her face.
Her heart slammed wildly against her ribs.
This man was insane.
Completely shameless.
Was he trying to ruin her?
Su Nian’en barely dared to breathe. She lowered her voice to a trembling whisper. “Mr. Han… please remember where you are.”
This was a warning.
A reminder.
This was his fiancée’s home.
If they were caught, she would be the only one crushed beneath the consequences.
“What?”
He leaned down, deliberately slow, as if he hadn’t heard her at all. His low voice brushed against her ear. Warm breath skimmed her skin.
The scent of him—clean, restrained, with a hint of sandalwood—flooded her senses.
Her chest tightened.
Her pulse went completely out of control.
She was twenty-two years old.
And she had never been this close to a man while fully conscious.
Yes, she’d slept with him before.
But she hadn’t been awake.
She hadn’t felt any of it.
Now she felt everything.
Every breath. Every inch of him. Every humiliating reaction of her own body.
Her face burned.
“This is the Jiang house!” she snapped, forcing steel into her voice. “You can’t—”
She stopped.
Because he was watching her.
Not just looking.
Studying.
Every flicker of fear. Every tight breath. Every trace of flustered defiance. And most of all—the blush she couldn’t hide.
That mix of anger and vulnerability.
Like a ripe cherry on the verge of splitting.
His gaze darkened.
His fingers tightened around her waist and pulled her even closer.
When he felt her body stiffen in shock, Han Xi Cheng’s lips curved slowly, dangerously.
His voice dropped to a velvety murmur.
“You seem awfully afraid of me,” he said.
“Why?”
He tilted his head slightly, eyes locking onto hers.
“Do I really look like such a bad guy to you?”
- Writer
