Chapter 42
Ruby
Istare at myself in the mirror.
Red dress, soft waves. Glossy lips. The kind of neckline that should come with a safety warning.
I look like a woman who is about to ruin a billionaire.
My heart pounds.
Okay. Time to go.
JAXON
I’ve been ready since 6.
Which is ridiculous.
I’m never ready ahead of time.
But tonight isn’t business. Tonight isn’t casual. Tonight isn’t even just desire.
Tonight is something else.
Something I don’t have a name for yet.
I check the clock again.
7:58.
The penthouse lights are dimmed. Music low. Whiskey poured, but untouched. A throw blanket moved because it wasn’t soft enough for her. Fresh flowers I never buy for anyone on the table.
I catch myself adjusting the cuffs of my shirt.
Twice.
I don’t get nervous.
But she makes me feel… anticipatory. Focused. Alive.
My phone buzzes.
Ruby:
I’m outside.
My chest tightens.
I walk to the elevator doors and hit the button.
When they slide open, she steps in, and I forget how to breathe.
Red dress. Soft curls. Glossy lips.
Beautiful.
So beautiful I feel it like a punch.
She looks at me with a shy, breathless smile.
“Hi.”
I swallow hard.
“Ruby.”
The elevator closes around us.
We don’t speak.
We don’t need to.
Her breath stutters.
Mine isn’t much better.
When the doors open at the penthouse floor, she steps out first.
I follow.
But only because I want to watch her walk.
I unlock the door.
She steps inside.
Then turns toward me.
And everything in me pulls tight.
Tonight.
Finally.
EVAN
He shouldn’t be here.
He knows that.
Standing across the street from Cole’s building is pathetic, irrational, and borderline unhinged.
But he needed to see it with his own eyes.
He needed to know if she was really going.
He sees her.
Red dress. Hair down. Looking nervous but… happy.
He sees Cole open the doors for her.
Sees her disappear inside.
His heart drops straight into his stomach.
He whispers:
“…Ruby…”
And knows he’s too late.
RUBY
The penthouse is warm. Quiet. Lit in soft gold.
I take one step inside.
Then another.
Jaxon follows and closes the door.
The click echoes through me.
When I turn around, he’s already watching me, slowly, hungrily, like he’s been waiting for this moment all day.
He walks toward me.
My breath catches.
He stops right in front of me, his voice low and warm:
“You’re stunning.”
My knees almost buckle.
Then he lifts a hand, slow, deliberate, and touches my cheek.
“Come here,” he whispers.
And I do.
The room feels too warm. Or maybe it’s just him.
He steps closer, slow and deliberate, like he’s giving me a chance to run even though we both know I’m not going anywhere.
His fingers brush my cheek.
The lightest touch. Barely there. But my whole body reacts.
“You came,” he says quietly.
I swallow. “You asked.”
Something flickers in his eyes, surprise, desire, something deeper I can’t name.
He lifts his other hand and gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture is soft enough to shatter me.
“You look incredible,” he murmurs.
I try to respond, but the words stick in my throat.
All I can manage is a shaky, “You too.”
He smiles, small, warm, devastating.
He steps in until the space between us disappears. I feel his breath on my lips.
“Ruby,” he whispers, “tell me you want to be here.”
My heart stutters.
“I want to be here.”
His breath leaves him in a slow exhale, like he wasn’t letting himself believe it until now.
He lifts my chin with his thumb.
“Kiss me.”
I do.
And the second our mouths meet, everything else falls away.
His hands slide to my waist, pulling me against him. Mine slip into his hair. The kiss deepens immediately, slow, then hungry, then slow again, like he’s savoring every shift of my tongue against his.
He kisses me like he’s learning me. Like he wants to memorize the shape of my mouth. Like every second without me has been a mistake.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests on mine.
“Come with me,” he whispers.
He laces his fingers through mine and leads me deeper into the penthouse, past the living room, down a short hallway.
The bedroom door is open.
I stop in the doorway, breath trembling.
He turns back.
“Are you nervous?” he asks softly.
“Yes.”
“Good,” he murmurs, stepping close.
“I am too.”
Then he cups my face and kisses me again, not rushed, not urgent, but achingly slow.
His hands drift down my arms, brushing goosebumps into my skin. His fingers graze my waist, my hips, the curve of my thigh through the red dress.
I inhale sharply.
He whispers against my lips, “Let me take care of you.”
The room tilts.
And I nod.
JAXON
She is breathtaking.
Not because of the dress, though the dress is a problem all on its own, but because of the way she looks at me.
Like she’s afraid and wanting and hopeful all at once.
She has no idea what that does to me.
I touch her carefully, slowly, like she’s something I need to savor. I undo the moment one breath at a time.
Her lips are softer tonight, her hands more confident, her body warmer against mine than it was in the dark of the conference room.
But this is different.
Not stolen. Not rushed. Not hidden.
This is intentional.
She gasps softly when my hands trail along her waist. Her fingers tug at my shirt like she needs me closer.
God.
I kiss her again, deeper this time, my thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. Her breath breaks beautifully.
She whispers my name like a confession.
“Jaxon…”
Everything inside me tightens.
I lower my forehead to hers.
“I want all of you,” I say quietly. “But only if you want me too.”
She nods, breath trembling. “I do.”
My chest aches with how much I believe her.
I kiss her again, slow, then hungry, then slow, and her hands slide to my shoulders, pulling me closer, trusting me without hesitation.
That trust is the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever felt.
I guide her toward the bed.
She goes willingly.
And when I lay her back against the sheets, her red dress against the soft grey blanket, I nearly lose control.
I breathe her in.
Her scent, her warmth, her softness.
I press my lips to her collarbone, her shoulder, the side of her throat. Her fingers tighten in my hair, a breathless sound escaping her.
I murmur against her skin:
“Tell me if you want me to slow down.”
“I don’t,” she whispers.
My restraint snaps, slow and sweet/
Tonight… tonight I’m giving her everything she asks for.