From One Night to Wife

In City A, USA, Emma Carter woke with a start. Glancing around, she realized she was in an unfamiliar room. The scent of a man lingered in the air. Above the nightstand, a painting of Washington Crossing the Delaware hung beside a golden vajra.

She dragged both hands through her hair as memories jolted her back to last night.

After the department dinner, she had drunk way too much.

Then… someone had put her to bed.

A man claimed her body, kissing her like someone who’d been holding himself together all night and had finally snapped. His tongue plunged into her mouth, searching, claiming, drinking in every sharp breath she drew.

His mouth traveled lower with agonizing slowness, each kiss more deliberate than the last, leaving a trail of heat that made her toes curl against the sheets.

Gazing at the bewitching woman before him, the man’s desire ignited. He stripped off her underwear and pressed his lips to her intimate parts.

“Ah…” she moaned as color crept across her cheeks.

“You really are sensitive, sweetie,” he murmured, his breath brushing her ear.

“Spread your legs wider. I’ll make you feel even better,” he commanded, his words turning her legs to jelly.

**Is it a dream? Why does it feel so real? **

She turned her head instinctively, trembling as she spread her legs.

When he reached the inside of her thigh, he didn’t rush. He waited, breathing her in, letting the anticipation coil tight enough that her hips jerked toward him without her consent.

Before she could react, a deep, molten ache unfurled inside her, followed by rhythmic friction and gentle thrusts.

They moved in perfect harmony.

The moment her hands slid onto his shoulders, the pleasure surged and pulled them under together, her body tightening around him as he groaned against her mouth. The climax hit in a rush that left her shaking, clinging to him as though he were the only solid thing in the world…

Emma shook her head, forcing herself to tear free from the memory. The first thing she needed to do was leave. Now.

She picked up the torn white shirt from the floor.

It’s a violent crime, definitely.

Her hands trembled as she tossed the garment aside.

Glancing around, she spotted a neatly folded set of clothes lying by the bedside, clearly left by the man.

She hurriedly slipped into a professional skirt suit.

Standing in front of the mirror, she noticed several red marks at the base of her neck.

“That damn man!” she cursed as she stepped out of the bathroom.

Scooping her handbag up from the floor, she pushed open the door. A spacious living room opened up before her, and a familiar figure burst into view.

In City A, USA, Liam Hayes was sitting on the sofa in black loungewear, headphones on, his laptop resting on a cushion between his legs.

Emma froze, jaw dropping.

“Morning… Mr. Hayes—”

“Shh. I’m in a meeting.” His low voice cut across hers.

She snapped her mouth shut and swallowed hard.

** Isn’t he supposed to be the frigid one? **

** No. It was all an act. **

“Come have breakfast.” He leaned forward and nudged the orange juice to the opposite side of the table.

The motion turned his neck just enough that the hickey there was squarely in front of the camera, perfectly visible to every executive in the meeting.

Emma saw it too. Heat flooded her face. Her first instinct was to run.

Terrified, she sat down instead, head lowered.

She obediently took a few small sips of orange juice and nibbled at the sandwich in tiny bites.

** Did he mistake me for someone else? **

** Sleeping with his employee? Doesn’t he care about his reputation? **

Fifteen minutes later, he ended the meeting, closed his laptop, and finally joined her for breakfast.

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were a virgin. I was a bit rough.” His tone was as flat as if he were delivering a work report.

“Ahem…” Her cheeks burned scarlet.

“The family doctor will be here soon. You can leave after that,” he added.

** Is he afraid I’ll end up pregnant with an heir and start eyeing his family fortune? **

Emma finished the rest of her orange juice in silence.

He ate quickly, clearing his plate in no time.

“Wait here. Ryan Cooper will drive you back. I have to head to the office,” he instructed.

“I can go back on my own,” she blurted.

“Not satisfied with my performance last night?” He lifted his gaze, a faint hint of hurt flickering across his expression.

“What?” Her heartbeat spiked.

She was furious, but no retort came out.

“Dr. Foster is here, Mr. Hayes,” Zoe announced from outside.

Julian Foster studied Emma silently: extraordinary beauty, snow-white skin, golden hair, curves in all the right places.

“Come with me,” Liam murmured, letting out a soft sigh.

Once Emma and Julian stepped into the room, Liam immediately walked back out and closed the door behind him.

As last night’s frenzy replayed in her mind, Emma’s palms grew slick with sweat. She had expected birth control pills or an injection, but instead, the doctor asked to examine her lower body.

She covered her face with her hands the entire time, mortified.

After he applied the medicine, the burning sensation below finally eased.

By the time she emerged from the room, Liam was already gone.

Ryan was waiting for her in the driver’s seat.

Sliding into the back, she stared out the window and whispered, “Did I get into the wrong car last night?”

“Yes, future Mrs. Hayes,” he teased. “You got into the wrong car, threw yourself at the boss, and started kissing him like crazy. Pretty impressive.”

She lowered her head and twisted the hem of her shirt between her fingers.

“The boss was going to drive you home, but he was worried something might happen to you, so he brought you back here instead.”

She forced a smile.

“Did you two…?” He watched her in the rearview.

“As you can see.” She pointed to the marks on her neck.

“Seems the boss held back.”

“Yeah…” she drawled.