For the first time in weeks, Emily felt like she could finally breathe. The weight in her chest—the constant ache of missing him and the fear of getting hurt again—started to lift, replaced by a quiet, cautious hope. She and Ryan had been slowly finding their way back to something new. They weren't what they used to be, but they weren't just coworkers anymore either. It was unfamiliar and fragile, somewhere between the past and what could be next, yet it felt surprisingly natural.
Ryan stayed true to his word. He didn't push or pressure her. Instead, he showed up in quiet, thoughtful ways. He'd bring her coffee the way she liked it, setting it on her desk with a soft smile that made her heart flutter. One morning, he even brought a croissant from her favorite bakery. The buttery smell filled the air as he placed it in front of her.
"Skipped breakfast again, didn't you?" he teased gently, eyes full of concern. Emily rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the smile as she took a bite, the pastry warm and flaky on her tongue.
He sent her home after late meetings, their chats light and easy. The tension between them slowly faded, replaced by something gentler, more genuine. One evening, as they walked through the quiet streets, Ryan paused at a small flower stand. Without saying a word, he picked out a sunflower and handed it to her. "For you," he said warmly. Emily laughed, her cheeks turning pink as she took it. "A sunflower? Really?" she teased, holding it to her nose. Ryan shrugged with a smile. "It reminded me of you. Bright, stubborn, and hard to ignore."
He also began to really listen when she spoke—not distracted, not thinking about work, just present. One afternoon, they sat in a park during lunch, and Emily found herself talking about a childhood memory, picking strawberries at her grandmother's house. Ryan didn't interrupt or glance at his phone. He just listened, eyes on hers the whole time. When she finished, he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft enough to make her breath catch. "I love hearing you talk about things that matter to you," he said, his voice full of quiet sincerity.
It all felt surprisingly easy. The way they slipped into a new rhythm—comfortable yet fresh—caught Emily off guard. There were no games, no pressure, just two people learning how to be together in a way that felt right. As the days went by, she slowly let go of the fear that had been holding her back, allowing herself to believe that maybe this time could truly be different.
Of course, doubts still crept in now and then. Old insecurities whispered that it might all fall apart. But then Ryan would do something simple, like leave a silly doodle on her desk reminding her to take a break, or surprise her with a book from her favorite café. And just like that, the fear would ease, replaced by a quiet warmth that filled her chest.
One evening, while they sat on her couch sharing popcorn and watching a movie, Ryan paused the screen and turned to her. "Hey," he said gently. "I know this is new, and I know it's scary. But I want you to know… I'm not going anywhere." Emily felt her heart swell, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. She nodded and whispered, "I know," leaning into him as he wrapped his arm around her.
It wasn't perfect, and it wouldn't always be easy—but it was real. And for the first time in a long time, Emily felt like she was right where she belonged.
So when Ryan told her he was leaving for a business trip to New York, Emily felt a wave of unease. It wasn't just that he'd be gone for two weeks—it was the quiet fear that something might change while he was away, that their fragile connection could start to slip. She tried to brush it off, telling herself not to overthink, but the tight feeling in her stomach wouldn't go away.
"How long will you be gone?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral as she leaned against the edge of her desk, her arms crossed in an attempt to appear casual.
"Two weeks, maybe more," Ryan said, his tone calm but his eyes watching her closely, as if he could sense the unease she was trying to hide.
Emily nodded, forcing herself to act casual, to keep her voice light. "That's not too long," she said, though the words felt hollow even as she spoke them.
Ryan studied her for a moment, his gaze lingering on her face, before a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Are you going to miss me?" he asked, his voice teasing but laced with a warmth that made her chest tighten.
Emily rolled her eyes, trying to play it off, but the way her heart skipped a beat betrayed her. "No," she said, her tone dismissive, though the faint blush creeping up her cheeks gave her away.
Ryan chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down her spine as he stepped closer, closing the distance between them. "Liar," he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned down, his lips grazing her ear. His proximity, his warmth—it was intoxicating, and Emily felt her resolve wavering with every second he stood this close.
"Ryan," she warned, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to step back, to put some distance between them before she lost herself completely.
But he didn't let her go. Instead, he reached out, his hand gently tilting her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, intense, filled with a quiet determination that made her breath catch.
"Stay with me tonight," Ryan murmured, his voice low and rough, the words sending a jolt of electricity through her.
Emily's heart pounded, her mind racing as she tried to process what he was asking.
"Ryan—" she began, her voice barely above a whisper, but he cut her off, his thumb brushing against her cheek in a gesture so tender it made her chest ache.
"No pressure," he said softly, his eyes searching hers. "But I don't want to leave without being with you—really being with you."
Emily knew what he meant. It wasn't just about physical intimacy—it was about connection, about being present in a way they hadn't been before. And despite every warning in her head, every voice telling her to be cautious, to protect herself, she found herself whispering, "Okay."
The word hung in the air between them, fragile and heavy with meaning, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Then, Ryan's lips curved into a small, almost relieved smile, his hand sliding down to intertwine with hers.
"Okay," he repeated, his voice filled with quiet promise as he gently pulled her closer, his other hand resting on her waist.
Emily's breath caught as she looked up at him, her heart racing. She knew letting herself get close again was a risk, that it could end in heartbreak. But standing there, wrapped in his warmth, seeing the honesty in his eyes, she realized she didn't want to hold back anymore.
For the first time in weeks, she let herself believe that maybe this time could be different. And when Ryan leaned in and kissed her—softly, with a quiet longing—Emily felt her last bit of doubt slip away.
Ryan's apartment was dimly lit, the soft glow of the city skyline filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. The moment they stepped inside, the outside world faded away, leaving only the two of them and the electric tension that had been building between them for weeks. Emily barely had time to take a breath before Ryan's lips were on hers—hungry, demanding, desperate. His kiss was a wildfire, consuming her completely, and she melted into him, her hands gripping his shoulders as she kissed him back with equal fervor.
He backed her against the wall, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her flush against him. The heat between them was immediate, raw, like a fire reignited after weeks of restraint. Emily gasped as his mouth trailed along her jaw, down her neck, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin, making her shiver. "God, I missed you," he muttered against her skin, his voice thick with desire, the words sending a thrill through her.
Emily didn't hesitate. Her fingers found the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. Her hands traced the hard planes of his chest, reveling in the way his muscles tensed under her touch, the way his breath hitched as her nails lightly grazed his skin. Ryan's eyes darkened, his gaze filled with a hunger that made her pulse race. "Bedroom. Now," he said, his voice low and rough, leaving no room for argument.
She didn't argue.
The moment they reached his bed, Ryan wasted no time peeling away her dress, his hands trembling slightly as he revealed her inch by inch. His eyes drank in every curve, every line of her body, and Emily felt a flush of heat spread through her at the intensity of his gaze. "Damn," he whispered, his hands running down her curves, his touch both reverent and possessive. "You have no idea how much I've thought about this."
Emily shivered as his fingers teased the straps of her bra, slipping them down slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving hers. Then, his mouth replaced his hands—kissing, tasting, savoring every inch of her. She moaned as his lips trailed down her collarbone, his tongue flicking against her hardened nipple before taking it into his mouth, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as she whispered his name. "Ryan…"
Ryan groaned at the way she said his name, his hands sliding lower, gripping her hips, pressing her against him. She could feel how much he wanted her, the hard evidence of his desire pressing into her, and God, she wanted him too. With one swift motion, Ryan had her lying beneath him, his body pressing into hers, skin against skin, heat against heat.
Emily arched as his fingers dipped between her thighs, teasing her, drawing out soft gasps from her lips. "So wet," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction, his touch driving her closer to the edge.
"Stop teasing," she whispered, her voice trembling with need.
Ryan smirked, but there was no hesitation as he finally slid into her, filling her inch by inch, the sensation so overwhelming that she cried out, her nails digging into his back. He began to move—slow at first, deep, deliberate, his eyes locked on hers as if he wanted to memorize every expression, every sound she made.
"You feel so damn good," Ryan groaned, his voice rough with desire as he picked up the pace, his thrusts growing faster, harder, deeper.
Emily couldn't think, couldn't breathe—all she could do was feel. The way his hands held her, anchoring her to him. The way his lips brushed against hers between every thrust, his breath mingling with hers. The way he whispered her name like she was the only thing that mattered. Their bodies moved in perfect rhythm, the connection between them undeniable, until neither of them could hold back.
Until they both shattered together, breathless, undone.
Ryan collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms, his heartbeat racing against her skin as they lay there, tangled together, their breaths slowly evening out. Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to. For now, this was enough. The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his fingers traced lazy patterns on her back—it was all she needed to feel safe, to feel whole.