The billionaire’s only obsession

Chapter two

The man’s hand dug into her wrist, his sour breath flooding her nose. Emma winced, struggling, but his grip on her was like iron.

“Don’t fight it, sweetheart.” He slurred, leaning closer.

Her stomach knotted. She could taste bile at the back of her throat. She wanted to scream but her voice was caught in panic.

Suddenly there was someone else between them. He yanked the man back, slamming him against the wall with a force that shook the door frame.

“Touch her again,” his voice was low and lethal, “And you won’t have hands left to regret it.”

The pervert stammered, fear flickering in his eyes before he bolted out the door.

Emma clung to the sink, her knees weak, her breathing ragged. Slowly, she lifted her gaze. Ocean blue eyes locked on hers.

She should have walked away. She should have simply thanked him and left. Instead, Emma found herself stepping closer to the stranger who just saved her.

Her heart hammered. The alcohol still blurred her head, but this…..this was something else. The ache that Jason had left behind pressed her ribs until she could barely breathe. She had begged silently, just once, for someone to chose her.

Her voice shook as she whispered, “Thank you… for saving me.”

“There’s no need to thank me.” He said, his voice clipped and turned towards the door.

Emma’s hand shot out before she could think.

Fingers curled into his sleeves. “Wait.” She whispered.

He turned back, brows knitting.

Emma rose on her toes and kissed him.

At first, he went rigid. His hands lifted slightly as if to push her away but Emma clung tighter. Her lips desperate, trembling, pleading for something she couldn’t name.

The man hesitated. His chest heaved, a silent war flickering across his face. Then something in him gave way.

He grabbed her waist, pulling her closer, his lips crashed onto hers.

Heat surged between them, raw and consuming. Emma’s heart jolted. His kiss was nothing like the soft, hesitant brushes she had imagined with Jason. This was hunger—raw and unyielding. It pulled her under, stripped her bare, made her forget everything except the way his lips devoured hers.

He bit her lower lip and she let out a moan—a sound that startled her, but dragged a groan from him, deepening the kiss. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling, needing more. His grip tightened, one hand sliding to the back of her neck, anchoring her, while the other curved around her hip, claiming her.

For the first time all night, Emma didn’t feel invisible. She felt needed. He wasn’t looking past her. His hands held her like she was the only thing keeping him steady, like letting go wasn’t an option.

When they finally broke apart, her head spun.

He leaned his forehead against hers, their breaths ragged. His voice was hoarse, low against her lips. “Come with me.”

Emma’s chest rose and fell, torn between reason and the hollow ache inside her. She should say no. She didn’t know him. She was drunk. This was reckless.

But the way he kissed her? The way he held her—like she was glass–was something she had never felt before. She had never been touched that way. She’d be damned if she let this one night of freedom slip away.

“Yes.” She whispered, her voice low and filled with emotion.

Emma couldn’t remember when their hands had first intertwined, only that by the time they stumbled into his penthouse, her body was already trembling with anticipation.

He pressed her back gently against the wall, his face hovering close, but he didn’t touch her lips. His ocean blue eyes searched hers, hesitant. “You’re drunk,” he murmured, his voice low, rough, as if fighting himself.

Emma swallowed hard. “So stop me.” Her voice broke, but her hands fisted his shirt anyways, dragging him closer. “Please…. don’t stop.”

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking, he was holding onto his last shard of self control. “You don’t even know me.”

“Then let me forget,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his. “Just tonight. Please.”

And his resolve broke. He threw self control out the window. He crashed his mouth against hers, the kiss raw, hungry, claiming. Emma’s knees buckled, but he held her up, his hands gripping her waist as if she might vanish.

Her breath hitched as he trailed kisses along her jaw, down her throat. She gasped, tilting her head back, her fingers tangling in his hair. “I… I’ve never…” she whispered, her throat tightening.

He froze, his hands hovering at her waist. His eyes widened slightly, the tension in his chest rising. “Never?” His voice was barely a whisper.

Her lashes fluttered as she looked away, cheeks burning.“Not once.” Her voice cracked. “But tonight… I just want to feel free.”

The silence stretched. For a heartbeat, Emma thought he might pull away, leave her standing there with her desperation laid bare. Or worse, throw her out to the streets in the middle of the night.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he growled against her skin, but his hands betrayed him—sliding beneath the hem of her gown, skimming the soft curve of her waist.

“I really want this.” She whispered, breathless.

That undid him. His lips claimed hers once again, softer this time—almost reverent. Every touch was slowed, deepened, became something different from the fevered hunger she had expected. His hands moved with care, as though he was memorizing her.

He lifted her and Emma wrapped her legs around him, clinging tighter as he led them to his bedroom.

The sheets rustled as he laid her down. He paused —hovering above her, his breath ragged. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

Her nerves sparked with uncertainty but she forced it away. She didn’t want to think. Not tonight.

Her voice came out in a whisper, but it was steady. “Yes.”

He stripped her dress away until she was bare before him. His gaze raked over her, reverent and hungry.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, kissing down her chest. Emma gasped, soft moan spilling from her lips as his mouth worked her breasts until she writhed beneath him.

When his hands slid down, pressing against the dampness between her thighs, she trembled. “So ready for me.” He groaned, his voice thick with need.

Her breath hitched when his fingers slid inside. Pain shot through her, sharp and new, but soon it blurred into something deeper, pulling moans from her throat. Shame and desire tangled, but she couldn’t stop the way her body leaned into him.

When he finally stripped off the last piece of clothing between them, he paused, his forehead resting on hers. “Tell me if it hurts.”

Emma nodded, unable to form words.

He entered her slowly. Tears pricked her eyes at the sting, but she gripped his shoulders tighter, her nails digging into his back.

He stilled, his voice rough. “Should I—?”

She shook her head, “I’m okay.” She whispered, though her voice shook. “Don’t stop.”

Something softened in his eyes then— Something she didn’t have words for. He kissed her again, gentler, slower, as though trying to ease every ache.