The scrape of Ryan’s chair pushing back from the table echoed like a gunshot in the cavernous dining room.

He walked down the length of the heavy mahogany table with the slow, measured stride of a man entirely comfortable in hostile territory.

The thick Persian rug swallowed the sound of his boots. The crystal chandelier overhead cast sharp, fractured light across the half-empty plates of seared duck and the pooling dregs of red wine.

Diana stood at the far end, her knuckles resting white against the edge of the wood.

The pristine, slate-grey silk of her blouse shifted with the rapid, uneven rise and fall of her chest. She didn’t back away, but the sudden, rigid locking of her spine screamed of cornered panic.

"Stop right there," Diana commanded, her voice dropping into a harsh, frantic whisper. She threw a desperate glance toward the closed oak double doors leading to the hallway. "We cannot do this again. It was a mistake. A momentary lapse in judgment." 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

Ryan kept walking.

The scent of her expensive perfume—something floral, layered with the sharp tang of pure adrenaline—hit his lungs.

"A lapse in judgment," Ryan repeated, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that barely carried over the ambient hum of the townhouse HVAC system. "You begged me not to stop. You shattered against the glass and soaked my fingers."

"I was stressed," she hissed, her dark eyes flashing with defensive heat. "And you exploited it. It’s over. You said we wouldn’t do it again."

She swallowed hard, the muscles in her elegant neck working against the rising tide of panic.

Ryan stopped two feet away from her. The physical displacement of air between them was practically electric.

"You have a beautiful model girlfriend the whole of New york is obsessing over," Diana pushed, weaponizing the events of the Astor Hotel, trying to build a wall out of his own public life. "You have the ultimate prize wrapped around your finger. Why do you possibly care about this? About me?"

Ryan looked down at her.

He saw the frantic calculation in her eyes, the desperate attempt to logic him out of her personal space.

"I’ve gotten into the habit of having my cake and eating it too," Ryan said, his tone utterly devoid of apology. He closed the remaining distance, stopping inches from her chest. "And I don’t think I can stop now."

The instant he smelled her skin, the memory of the forty-seventh floor violently hijacked his brain.

He saw the fogged lenses of her reading glasses.

He felt the slick, tight heat of her inner walls clamping down on him. He saw the aristocratic, unshakeable venture capitalist reduced to a trembling, ruined mess, her wrists bound by his silk tie.

The heat pooling in his groin spiked into a heavy, agonizing throb.

He reached out.

Diana gasped sharply, her hands flying up to block him, but she was a second too slow.

Ryan’s palms slid over the sleek fabric of her slate-grey blouse.

He found the heavy, full weight of her breasts, cupping them firmly in his large hands.

The physical contact sent a visible jolt straight through her skeleton.

Her breath hitched, catching painfully in her throat. Ryan squeezed, his thumbs dragging ruthlessly over the hardened peaks of her nipples through the silk.

Diana’s eyelids fluttered.

For three agonizing seconds, her body betrayed her completely.

Her hips swayed forward, an involuntary, microscopic fraction of an inch, leaning into the bruising pressure of his hands. A soft, broken sound leaked from her parted lips.

Then, the heavy thud of footsteps echoed from the hallway outside the oak doors.

Diana snapped back to reality like a rubber band breaking.

Her eyes flew wide, terror bleeding the color completely out of her face. She shoved her hands against his chest, breaking his grip.

"No," she breathed, her voice shaking violently. She took a frantic step backward, bumping into her own dining chair. "We can’t. Ryan, my husband is literally in the next room. He could walk out here at any second."

She turned, grabbing the edge of the table to steady her trembling legs, attempting to walk past him toward the safety of the hallway.

Ryan didn’t let her pass.

His hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around her forearm like an iron shackle. The grip wasn’t bruising, but it was absolute.

"Richard is burying himself in some Tokyo housing index crisis," Ryan stated, his voice a dark, commanding rasp. "He’s screaming at a broker halfway across the world. He’s too engrossed in his own bullshit to care about what’s happening out here."

"Let me go," Diana pleaded, twisting her arm. Her eyes darted wildly to the heavy oak doors. "If he sees this, he will–."

"He won’t do a damn thing," Ryan growled.

He didn’t release her arm. Instead, he used his grip to spin her around.

The sudden, violent shift in momentum threw her off balance. Ryan caught her by the waist, shoving her forward until her stomach slammed flat against the polished mahogany dining table.

A crystal wine glass tipped over, the remaining red liquid spilling across the pristine white linen, soaking into the fabric like fresh blood.

Diana let out a muffled shriek, her hands slapping flat against the dark wood to brace herself.

The slate-grey silk of her blouse pulled tight across her back. Her tailored trousers stretched taut over the plush, heavy curve of her ass.

Ryan stepped in close, trapping her between his body and the edge of the table.

He pressed the front of his slacks flush against her rear.

The thick, rigid length of his erection dug a hard, undeniable line right into the cleft of her ass.

Diana froze, her breathing turning into shallow, jagged pants. The cold mahogany chilled her palms, but the burning, radiating heat pressing into her from behind felt like standing too close to an open furnace.

"Do you remember this feeling, Diana?" Ryan whispered, bending down until his lips grazed the shell of her ear. "Bent over a desk. Waiting for me to take what I want."

Her fingers curled against the wood, her nails scraping uselessly against the varnish. "Ryan... please."

"Please what?" He ground his hips forward, rubbing the heavy, straining bulge against her tailbone. "Please stop? Or please remind you who this ass belongs to now?"