MistNovel - Read Web Novel Stories & Fiction Online

The elevator doors slid shut, encasing them in a small, silent box of gold and glass. Emma could feel the heat radiating from James's body without touching him. She stared at the numbers climbing, her pulse thundering in her ears with each floor they passed.

She risked a glance at him. He was not looking at her. He stared straight ahead, but his jaw was tight, a muscle jumping in his cheek. He was not as calm as he pretended to be.

When his hand finally moved, just his fingers brushing the small of her back, electricity shot up her spine. Her breath stuttered.

"Nervous?" His voice was low, intimate in the confined space.

"Should I be?" She tried to sound confident, but her voice came out breathless.

His eyes dropped to her mouth. For just a moment, they flashed amber, bright and inhuman. She blinked, and they were brown again. "Probably."

The suite embodied impersonal luxury, all glass and steel overlooking city lights. But when he looked at her, his gaze dark with raw hunger, Emma felt anything but cold.

He backed her gently against the cool wood of the penthouse door. Her knees went weak. His hands came up to brace the door on either side of her head, caging her in. His scent filled her senses, sandalwood and rain and something purely male, something wild.

His eyes were dark, almost black with want. "Tell me to stop," he murmured, his voice rough with barely controlled desire.

Instead, her hands reached for him, fingers gripping the lapels of his suit jacket and pulling him closer. "Do not stop."

He kissed her then, his mouth claiming hers with a hunger that stole her breath. His lips were firm and demanding, yet tender, exploring her with a reverence that made her head spin. She gasped against him, and he took advantage, his tongue sweeping in to taste her. Her body arched instinctively as his hands slid down her sides, pulling her closer until there was no space between them.

She could feel him, hard and ready against her stomach, and liquid heat pooled between her thighs.

He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the bed. The world narrowed to the feel of his body against hers, the taste of him on her tongue, bourbon and mint and pure male desire. He laid her down on silk sheets, his fingers tracing the curve of her neck, down to her collarbone, sending shivers across her skin.

"Beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky against her ear. His hands found her chef's coat, and buttons scattered as he yanked it open. One flew across the room, landing somewhere in the shadows. His knuckles grazed her spine. "I have been thinking about this since the moment I saw you in that kitchen."

She tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. More buttons scattered. She revealed the hard planes of his chest, scattered with dark hair that trailed down his toned abdomen. Her hands explored him, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under her palm, the warmth of his skin. He was warmer than normal, almost feverish.

"Impatient," he murmured, amused. But his own hands were just as desperate, peeling away her clothes to reveal simple cotton beneath. They were not expensive or elegant, but the hunger in his eyes made her feel like the most desirable woman alive.

"These," he said, his voice a low growl as his fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties. "Off. Now."

She lifted her hips, and he dragged them down her legs in one smooth motion. Cool air hit her overheated skin, but it was nothing compared to the intensity of his gaze as he stared at her, completely bare.

"Perfect," he said, the single word rough with need.

He trailed kisses down her throat, across her collarbone, lower still. His mouth closed over her breast, his tongue circling her nipple before he sucked it into his mouth. She moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to her. When his teeth grazed the sensitive peak, she cried out.

"James."

"I want to hear you say my name like that again," he demanded, his voice gravelly. His hand slid down her body, fingers finding the slick heat between her thighs. "So wet already."

His fingers parted her folds, one thick digit sliding inside her as his thumb found her clit. "Oh God." Her hips bucked against his hand.

"Not God," he corrected, adding a second finger and curling them to hit that perfect spot inside her. His eyes flashed amber again, just for a heartbeat. "James. I want you to remember who is making you feel this way."

He worked her with expert precision, his fingers pumping in and out while his thumb circled her clit in maddening strokes. Pleasure built like a storm inside her, coiling tighter and tighter. Her thighs trembled, her hands fisting in the silk sheets.

"That is it, Emma. Come for me. Let me feel you."

The command in his voice sent her over the edge. Her climax crashed through her in waves, her inner walls clenching around his fingers as she cried out his name. Stars exploded behind her eyes, pleasure so fierce it bordered on pain.

She was still trembling when he shed the rest of his clothes. Her eyes widened as she took him in. He was big, thick and hard, his length jutting proudly. A bead of moisture glistened at the tip.

"See what you do to me?" he asked, wrapping his hand around himself and stroking slowly. "I have been hard since the moment I touched you."

He positioned himself between her legs, the blunt head pressing against her entrance. She was still sensitive, every nerve ending alive.

"Look at me," he said softly, his voice rough with barely leashed control.

She did, lost in the depth of his dark eyes as he entered her slowly, inch by inch. The stretch was exquisite, a perfect fullness that made her gasp. He was so much bigger than she had expected, and her body struggled to accommodate him.

"Breathe," he murmured, kissing her jaw, her neck, giving her time to adjust. "That is it. Take all of me."

When he was fully seated inside her, they both groaned. He stayed still for a moment, his forehead pressed to hers, his exhalations coming in harsh pants. "You feel incredible. So tight. So perfect."

Then he began to move. Slow at first, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, hitting depths she did not know existed. But slow was not enough.

"More," she demanded, her nails digging into his back. "Harder."

Something primal flashed in his eyes, amber bleeding through the brown. "Careful what you ask for."

His control snapped. He withdrew and slammed back in, the force of it making her cry out in pleasure. He set a punishing rhythm, driving deep and hard, his hips pistoning against hers. A low sound rumbled in his chest, animalistic and possessive. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, mixed with their gasps and moans.

She met him thrust for thrust, her hips rising to take him deeper. The pleasure built again, faster this time.

He angled his hips, and suddenly he was hitting that perfect spot inside her with every thrust. "Right there!" she gasped. "Do not stop."

"Never," he said, the sound vibrating through his chest. His hand slipped between their bodies, his fingers finding her swollen clit and rubbing tight circles. "Come again. Come on my cock, Emma."

The dual sensation was too much. Her second climax hit her like a tidal wave, even stronger than the first. She screamed his name, her entire body convulsing as pleasure whited out her vision.

"Emma." He thrust twice more, hard and deep, before his own release overtook him. He said her name as he came, his body shuddering, his face transformed by raw pleasure. His grip on her hips was almost painfully strong, fingers digging into her flesh with inhuman force.

He collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms immediately. Their skin was slick with sweat, their exhalations harsh in the quiet room.

For several minutes, neither of them spoke. Emma felt his fingers trailing lazy patterns on her shoulder, his other hand resting possessively on her hip.

"That was..." she started, unable to find words.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice still rough. He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Give me ten minutes and I will show you it gets even better."

She laughed, surprised by the easy intimacy between them.

True to his word, ten minutes later he was ready again. This time he took his time, exploring every inch of her body. He discovered that the spot behind her ear made her gasp, that she was ticklish along her ribs, that she made the most beautiful sounds when he used his tongue between her thighs.

He made her come twice more with just his mouth. Only when she was trembling and oversensitive did he finally enter her again, this time taking her slowly, deeply, drawing out the pleasure until she was sobbing his name.

When they finally collapsed together again, exhausted and sated, the first hints of dawn were coloring the sky beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

James pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin. His hand stroked her hair with surprising gentleness. "Stay," he whispered against her hair, his voice thick with sleep. "Do not go."

"I am right here." She pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, taking in his scent, now mixed with hers.

Her body felt deliciously used. Small bruises where his fingers had gripped too tight. The pleasant ache between her thighs. The slight burn on her skin from his stubble.

Wrapped in his arms, feeling safer than she had in years, she let herself believe, just for a moment, that this could be more than one night.

He fell asleep, his exhalations deep and even against her back. One heavy arm draped over her waist, holding her close even in sleep.

Dawn light crept through the windows, painting everything gold.

Emma woke slowly, awareness returning in fragments. Silk sheets. Strong arms. The scent of sandalwood and sex.

Reality crashed over her like ice water.

What had she done?

She carefully extracted herself from his embrace. He murmured in his sleep, reaching for her, and her heart cracked. She pressed one last kiss to his shoulder, memorizing the feel of him, then slipped from the bed.

In the bathroom mirror, she looked different. Flushed, well loved, happy. But as she dressed, pulling on her chef's coat and noticing the missing button, harsh truth reasserted itself.

She was Emma Lopez, a chef who lived paycheck to paycheck. He was James Wilson, a billionaire CEO who probably had a dozen women like her.

Last night was beautiful, but it was not real. It could not be.

This was his world. She was just passing through.

The missing button was somewhere in the bedroom, lost in their passion. She looked for it briefly but could not find it in the dim light. She could not stay to search. If she stayed, she would want to stay forever.

And that was impossible.

She scribbled a note on hotel stationery, her hand shaking. "Thank you for a beautiful night. E" Below it, she wrote her phone number, but her hand trembled so badly the final digit smudged into an unreadable blur.

She was a coward.

But she could not face him in the morning light and see the regret in his eyes. Better to leave with the dream intact.

She fled down the silent hotel corridor, clutching her chef's coat closed where buttons should have been. The missing button was somewhere in that room, lost in twisted sheets and abandoned passion.

She did not know James would keep it.

She did not know he would carry it every day for six years.

And she did not know that in eight weeks, she would stand in a bathroom staring at two pink lines, while his engagement announcement stared back at her from her phone screen.