Ellison And Joycelyn A Love Beyond The Rules novel Chapter 1

Chapter 1 His Promise
Joycelyn Maynard slept with her boss after the company retreat. Now, watching him sleep beside her, her eyes traced the contours of his perfect abs as she swallowed nervously. 'Does this mean... I'm gonna be fired?' she wondered.

Ellison Grant's piercing gaze met hers. "We're getting married. I'll take responsibility."

Her mind went blank. 'Since when did successful men become so old-fashioned? One night together, and he's already talking marriage?' she thought.

*****

"Joycelyn, you're now twenty-six. Don't tell me you're still a virgin?" The teasing words from her colleagues at the company retreat echoed through Joycelyn's mind as she leaned against the hotel corridor wall.

Having never been kissed, she'd dodged their questions by downing several drinks, then excused herself, claiming intoxication.

Now she fumbled with her key card, the door stubbornly refusing to open. Frustrated, she pressed her flushed face against the cool surface, only to stumble forward as it suddenly swung inward.

Ellison stood before her, his chiseled features cast in shadow.

Joycelyn blinked in confusion. 'Why is he in my room?' she wondered, mesmerized by his commanding presence. 'This has to be a dream.'

"Is there something on my face?" His eyes narrowed, voice rough with barely contained desire.

"Mhmm." The sound escaped her lips before she could stop it, soft and breathy.

Standing before this usually untouchable man, she recalled her colleague Selene Whitmore's whispered words.

"A man like Mr. Grant must be incredible in bed," Selene had said, and now here he was, larger than life.

Joycelyn's tongue darted across her lips as heat bloomed through her body. 'If I can't have him in real life,' she thought, 'at least I can enjoy this dream.'

She launched herself forward, pushing the door shut behind her. "Mr. Grant, they say any woman who gets to spend a night with you must be very lucky." Her lips curved into a playful smile. "Care to test that theory?"

The air crackled between them as their eyes locked. Ellison, his own judgment clouded by alcohol, felt his control slipping as her soft curves pressed against him. Instead of pushing her away, he pulled her closer.

"Is this what you want? Huh?" he murmured against her ear, his proximity sending shivers down her spine.

"Yes," she breathed, the word barely a whisper.

Her eyes, glazed with desire and wine, held him captive. Up close, his features were even more striking than the glimpses she'd caught at the office.

She found herself tracing every perfect line with her gaze—from his sculpted brows to his straight nose, finally lingering on his parted lips. Her expression shifted from seductive to innocent as their eyes met again.

The way she looked at him—he knew exactly what was going on. In one fluid motion, he took control, pressing her against the wall. His fingers guided her hand to his belt, his voice husky with restraint. "Help me with this."

Before she could respond, his lips claimed hers in her first kiss. She melted into him as he deepened the kiss, her inexperience yielding to his expertise.

Her heart thundered in her chest. The kiss was both tender and commanding, more real than any dream could be. Every nerve ending sparked with electricity as she fumbled with his buttons and zipper, following his lead.

Perhaps because she believed it was a dream, there was no pain—only pleasure. Under his gentle guidance, she even found herself taking initiative, discovering that the normally stern boss was surprisingly tender and skilled, though his stamina proved overwhelming.

*****

The next morning, Joycelyn drifted between sleep and wakefulness as footsteps approached. 'Why does this dream feel so real?' she wondered, her brow furrowing as Ellison's voice reached her ears.

Reality crashed in as she opened her eyes to find him approaching, a towel slung low on his hips. Her gaze traced involuntarily over his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and the tempting V-line disappearing beneath white terry cloth.

Memories of the night before flooded her mind, each more explicit than the last. Color rushed to her cheeks, then drained away just as quickly.

"Mr. Grant! Why are you here?" She clutched the sheets tighter. "Last night, we... we..."

The words stuck in her throat as his eyes studied her flustered expression. "What exactly are you trying to ask?" He was curious.

"I mean, last night, did we..." Her tongue tied itself in knots.

"We did." His simple confirmation hit her like a thunderbolt.

Clinging to one last thread of hope, she stammered, "But did we actually..."