Olivia stared out the window of the private jet, stunned. She still couldn't believe this was her life.
Steve had flown her out for a weekend getaway - his invitation wrapped in casual confidence, like asking her to join him for coffee. Except this wasn't coffee. This was a chartered jet, a destination unknown, and a man who kissed her like she was fire he couldn't help but play with.
They landed just after sunset.
The moment the black SUV pulled up to the estate gates, Olivia's breath caught. The mansion was like something from a dream - elegant but not ostentatious. Wide glass windows, ivy-laced stone walls, and soft golden lights glowing from within.
Steve helped her out of the car, fingers warm around hers.
"Welcome home," he said.
She blinked at him. "You mean your home."
His gaze lingered. "It could be yours too… eventually."
Her stomach fluttered.
Inside, the home was a reflection of him - polished, powerful, yet undeniably personal. Artwork filled the walls, soft jazz played in the background, and the scent of cedarwood and spice danced through the air.
Steve gave her a tour, but her mind was only half on the marble floors or the rooftop garden. The way he looked at her - the way his hand rested at the small of her back, the way his lips brushed the shell of her ear when he spoke - made her pulse race.
When they reached the master suite, everything changed.
It was dimly lit, wrapped in gold and deep navy. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a skyline that shimmered in the distance. In the center, a king-sized bed - inviting, plush, and impossible to ignore.
He stepped behind her, his arms circling her waist.
"I've wanted you here," he murmured, "in this room… for a long time."
She turned to face him, her hands resting on his chest, her heart thudding so hard she was sure he could feel it.
"Kiss me," she whispered.
He didn't hesitate.
The kiss was deeper this time, more urgent. He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her toward the bed with a slow, deliberate confidence that made her breath hitch.
Clothes melted away in stages, each layer revealing more skin, more vulnerability, more desire. He took his time - tracing her collarbone with his lips, tasting the soft curve of her shoulder, drawing out every sigh, every shiver. When he laid her down on the cool silk sheets, he paused.
"You're beautiful," he said, his voice gravelly, full of restraint and reverence. "You have no idea what you do to me."
Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for him, but he guided her - whispering where to touch, where to hold. He was patient, teaching her through sensation. With every kiss, every brush of his hands, she learned what it meant to be adored.
They made love more than once that night - each moment different.
The first time was slow and aching, a quiet claiming. The second, hours later, was more primal - laughter and heat tangled in the dark as they explored each other like puzzle pieces that had waited too long to meet.
In between, they whispered secrets, shared kisses in the shadows, and tangled themselves in each other until morning crept through the windows.
Olivia lay in his arms as sunlight warmed her skin. She looked at Steve - hair tousled, shirtless, half-asleep beside her - and realized something had shifted.
She didn't just feel wanted. She felt chosen.
And in a house that looked like a dream, wrapped in sheets that smelled like him, she knew she'd stepped into something far more real than anything she'd ever imagined.