"Yes," Ryan confirmed without hesitation, his gaze never leaving hers. "Do you really not remember anything?"
As he spoke, fragments of the night began to resurface in Emily's mind—the warmth of his hands, the way he had held her so tenderly, the softness of his lips against hers. Her cheeks flushed at the memories, a mix of embarrassment and something else she couldn't quite name.
"I'm sorry… I was drunk. I'm not usually like that," she tried to explain, her words tumbling out in a rush as she desperately tried to clarify her actions, not wanting him to misunderstand her.
Ryan's expression remained calm, his voice gentle as he responded. "I know last night was your first time. And just so you know, I don't regret it," he said honestly, his words carrying a sincerity that made Emily's heart ache. She looked down at her hands, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her glass.
"I see… then let's not talk about it anymore," she said, her voice barely audible as she tried to brush the topic aside, hoping to move past the awkwardness.
But Ryan had other thoughts. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze intense yet tender. "I want to be with you again tonight. Will you stay with me?" he asked, his voice soft but firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation.
Emily's breath hitched at his words, her mind racing as she processed what he was asking. She was momentarily taken aback, her heart pounding in her chest as she weighed her options.
After a moment's hesitation, she nodded shyly, her cheeks flushing even deeper. She didn't want to miss another chance to be close to him, to explore whatever this was between them. As they left the bar together, the city lights casting a golden glow around them, Emily couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation, knowing that this night would change everything.
That night, instead of heading to a hotel as Emily had expected, Ryan led her to his car and drove them to his home. The quiet hum of the engine and the soft glow of the streetlights created an intimate atmosphere, but Emily couldn't help but feel a flicker of confusion.
"Director Ryan, we're not going to a hotel?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity as she glanced at him from the passenger seat. Ryan kept his eyes on the road, but a soft smile played on his lips.
"No. We're going to my place," he replied, his tone calm and reassuring, as if he had already made up his mind about how the night would unfold. Emily's heart fluttered at his words, a mix of nervousness and anticipation swirling inside her. She had never been to a man's home before, and the idea of stepping into his private space felt both thrilling and daunting.
When they arrived, Ryan's home was exactly as she had imagined—sleek, modern, and impeccably designed, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a stunning view of the city skyline.
But before she could take in the details, Ryan closed the door behind them and pulled her into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around her with a possessiveness that made her breath catch.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "Emily, this time, I want you to remember everything." His voice was low and husky, sending shivers down her spine.
Before she could respond, Ryan leaned in, his lips capturing hers in the softest, most tentative kiss. It was a question, a choice laid bare. She could pull away, retreat into the safety of distance and professionalism, or she could give in to the pull of whatever this was between them.
For once, Emily chose to follow her heart. She kissed him back, her hands sliding up to his shoulders as she surrendered to the moment. Ryan groaned softly, the sound vibrating against her lips as he deepened the kiss, his arms tightening around her as if he never wanted to let her go.
This time, there was no hesitation, no alcohol-clouded judgment—just pure, undeniable desire that burned brighter with every passing second.
Ryan lifted her effortlessly, his strength surprising her as he carried her toward the bedroom without breaking the kiss. Emily's pulse raced, her heart pounding in her chest as he laid her down on the bed, his body pressing against hers in a way that felt both familiar and exhilaratingly new.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," Ryan murmured against her lips, his voice rough with desire. His hands slid under her shirt, fingers tracing the curve of her waist, sending shivers down her spine.
Emily arched into his touch, breathless. "Then stop wasting time," she teased, tugging at the hem of his shirt. He didn't need to be told twice. Clothes disappeared between kisses, their movements hurried yet deliberate, as if they were both desperate to close the distance between them.
When they were finally skin to skin, Emily gasped at the intensity of it all—the heat of Ryan's body pressed flush against hers, his calloused hands roaming possessively over every curve. His mouth was relentless, leaving marks along her throat, her breasts, her stomach, as if branding her his.
God, he's beautiful. The thought seared through her mind as she let her hands explore him in return—the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of his abdomen, the way his muscles tensed under her touch. His shoulders were broad enough to pin her down effortlessly, his body a perfect contrast of strength and controlled restraint. She could feel the power coiled in his thighs as he settled between her legs, the evidence of his desire pressing against her, hot and insistent.
There was something almost primal about the way he looked at her—like he wanted to devour her, worship her, ruin her—all at once. The dim light caught the sweat glistening on his skin, the sharp angle of his jaw clenched with need. When he kissed her again, deep and claiming, she moaned into his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair.
The weight of him, the scent of his skin, the way his breath hitched when she scraped her nails down his back. Every inch of him was intoxicating, and she wanted more—more of his touch, his taste, the low, rough sounds he made when she arched against him.
"Ryan—" His name escaped her in a breathless whisper, half plea, half praise, as his fingers slid between her thighs, teasing her until she was slick and trembling.
He smirked, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pinned her beneath him, his voice a rough command. "Tell me what you want."
Emily's nails bit into his shoulders, her hips arching off the bed in silent demand. "I want you Now."
A growl rumbled in his chest as he positioned himself between her legs, the thick head of his cock dragging through her wetness before pressing against her entrance.
And when her eyes locked onto his—dark, desperate, completely his—he pushed inside with one slow, deliberate thrust, stretching her exquisitely.
Emily cried out, her back bowing as he filled her completely, the stretch bordering on too much before melting into pure, molten pleasure. "God—you feel—"
"I know," Ryan gritted out, his muscles taut with restraint as he let her adjust. But when she clenched around him, urging him on, he lost control.
His hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt before pulling back and driving into her again, each stroke deep and punishing. The slap of skin on skin, the way her breath hitched with every thrust—it was filthy, intoxicating.
"Harder," Emily gasped, her legs hooking around his waist to take him deeper.
Ryan obliged, his pace turning ruthless, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside her with every plunge. She could feel him everywhere—his sweat-slicked chest against hers, his fingers digging into her hips, the ragged groan that spilled from his lips as she tightened around him.
"You're gonna make me come," she panted, her climax coiling tight, ready to shatter.
"Do it," he growled, his thrusts turning erratic. "Let me feel you."
And she did—her body clamping down on him as pleasure ripped through her in waves, her scream muffled by his mouth crashing onto hers. Ryan followed with a rough groan, his hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside her, his release hot and endless.
For a long moment, they stayed locked together, breathless and trembling, the only sound their ragged breathing. Then Ryan finally collapsed beside her, pulling her against him, both of them still thrumming with the aftershocks.
"Fuck," he muttered against her hair, his voice wrecked. "That was—"
"Yeah," Emily breathed, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "It was."
A slow, satisfied smirk curled his lips as he tilted her chin up, capturing her mouth in a lazy, possessive kiss. "And we're just getting started."
Before she could respond, Ryan rolled them over in one smooth motion, his hands gripping her hips as he settled her on top of him. The sudden shift made her gasp, her thighs tightening around his waist as she straddled him. The new angle sent a jolt of pleasure through her—he was still deep inside her, still so there, and now she had control.
"Like this?" she whispered, rocking against him experimentally.
His groan was all the answer she needed. His hands slid up her body, rough palms skimming her ribs before cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples in a way that made her breath hitch. "Fuck, yes. Just like that."
Emily braced her hands on his chest, rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles, watching his face as pleasure tightened his features. The way his jaw clenched, the way his fingers dug into her skin—she loved knowing she could unravel him just as thoroughly as he did her.
"You feel so good," she murmured, arching back slightly, letting him watch the way she took him, inch by inch.
Ryan's grip on her tightened, his hips lifting to meet her movements. "Look at you," he growled. "Riding me like you were made for it."
The words sent a rush of heat through her, and she leaned forward, pressing her palms flat against his chest as she picked up the pace. Their breaths tangled, the air between them thick with sweat and shared desire.
"Ryan—" His name spilled from her lips in a broken moan as his hands dropped to her ass, guiding her, urging her faster.
"Come for me, Em," he demanded, his voice rough. "Let me feel it again."
And when she did—when pleasure crashed over her in waves, her body clenching around him—he followed her over the edge with a groan, his fingers pressing bruises into her skin as he held her close.
For a long moment, neither of them moved, their breathing ragged, their bodies still tangled together. Then Ryan brushed a damp strand of hair from her face, his smirk returning.
"Told you," he murmured. "Just getting started."
*****
Emily woke up to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a golden hue across the room. For a moment, she forgot where she was—the unfamiliar surroundings, the plush bed, the quiet hum of a space that wasn't hers.
But then she felt it: the warmth of a strong arm draped over her waist, the steady rise and fall of a chest pressed against her back.
Ryan.
Her heart raced as memories of last night flooded back: his deep kisses, the way he touched her and left her breathless, and how he held her close like she meant everything. It was overwhelming, but it felt right.
Her gaze shifted to him. He was still asleep, his face relaxed, his dark hair slightly tousled from the night.
In the soft morning light, he looked almost boyish, his sharp features softened by the peacefulness of sleep. She couldn't help but stare, her heart aching with a mixture of affection and fear. This was dangerous. She knew she should get up, get dressed, and leave before this became even more complicated. Before she let herself fall any deeper.
But when she tried to move, Ryan stirred, his arm tightening around her waist as he pulled her closer. "Where are you going?" His voice was husky with sleep, low and gravelly, sending a shiver down her spine.
Emily swallowed, her mind racing as she tried to find the right words. "I should leave before—" she began, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ryan opened his eyes, fixing her with a lazy yet intense gaze that made her stomach flip. "Before what?" he asked, his tone calm but probing.
"Before this gets out of hand," she admitted, her cheeks flushing as she avoided his eyes. She could feel the weight of his stare, the way it seemed to see straight through her defenses.
Ryan smirked, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I think that ship has already sailed," he said, his voice teasing but laced with a seriousness that made her heart race.
Emily groaned, burying her face in the pillow to hide her embarrassment. "You're not helping," she muttered, her voice muffled.
His expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something deeper, something that made her breath catch. "Emily, I know you're avoiding," he said, his voice quiet but steady.
She bit her lip, her mind racing with all the reasons why this was a bad idea. "This isn't just about me, Ryan. You're my boss. If anyone finds out—" she began, her voice trembling with the weight of her fears.
Ryan reached out, his fingers gently tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to look at him. His gaze was unwavering, his eyes filled with a determination that left her speechless. "Then let them," he said simply, his voice firm.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You can't be serious," she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest.
He sighed, his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek. "I don't care what anyone thinks," he said, his voice low but resolute. "I care about you."
Emily's breath hitched, her mind spinning as she tried to process his words. The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at her—it was too much, too real.
She wanted to believe him, to let herself fall into this moment without fear or hesitation. But the rational part of her brain screamed warnings, reminding her of the risks, the complications, the potential fallout.
And yet, as she lay there in his arms, the warmth of his body pressed against hers, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, this was worth the risk.