From Divorce to Billionaire’s Baby

Chapter Two: Unspoken Desire

The gala finally ends, and we are back in the car, heading home. The entire ride, Ryan sits beside me in silence, his hands resting casually on his lap. But I can feel it, the tension in the air, the unspoken weight of what happened earlier at the bar. His words keep replaying in my mind: “Maybe it doesn’t have to be.”

What did he mean by that?

I stare out the window, the city lights blurring past, but I can’t focus. My body feels on edge, as if something is about to happen. My hands are still slightly trembling from the way he touched me all night, those lingering brushes of his fingers, the warmth of his hand on my back. After two years of being nothing more than strangers, why now? Why tonight?

The car pulls into the driveway of the grand house we have shared for two years but never truly lived in. It’s a house built for a family, for love, yet all it has ever felt like to me is a gilded cage. Tonight, though, it feels different. The walls seem closer, the air heavier.

Ryan walks ahead, as he always does, but I linger by the door. I am not sure what I am waiting for. I am not even sure what I am feeling right now. There’s an unfamiliar pull between us, something I can’t quite name but can’t ignore either.

Perhaps i had too much champagne.

Inside, the silence between us stretches thin. Ryan loosens his tie, his movements relaxed as he heads to his room. I entire my own room, standing in the middle of the room, suddenly aware of how tight this dress feels. The zipper is stuck, and I can’t seem to reach it. My pulse quickens. The logical thing to do would be to ask for help. Ryan is the only person in the house other than me. The house help has long gone so I have no choice.

Before I can stop myself, I walk to his room that’s across from mine. His door is open and he is just standing there, I call out to him.

"Ryan?"

He turns, his eyes meeting mine in the dim light of the room. I hesitate for a second, but then I take a small breath. "Can you… help me with my zipper?"

For a moment, he just stares at me. I think I see something flicker in his gaze, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. Without a word, he steps toward me, his footsteps deliberate and unhurried.

I turn my back to him, feeling the air shift as he closes the distance between us. His fingers brush my skin as he grips the zipper, and I shiver involuntarily. I tell myself it’s just the cold, but I know it’s a lie. His touch is doing something to me, something I don’t want to admit. My body betrays me, heating up under his hands.

The zipper slides down slowly, the soft sound of fabric parting filling the room. With each inch it lowers, I feel more exposed. Vulnerable. His fingers linger for a moment too long at the base of my spine, and I hold my breath, my heart pounding so loud I am sure he can hear it.

“Tess,” he murmurs, his voice husky, almost questioning.

I don’t know why, but I can’t bring myself to move away. I should step forward, thank him, and leave. But instead, I stand frozen, caught in this charged moment between us.

And then, his hands move lower, sliding to my waist, his palms pressing against my hips. My breath hitches, my entire body tensing. I am acutely aware of how close we are, how I can feel the heat of him against my back.

Before I can fully process what’s happening, he pulls me gently against him, and I feel it, his arousal, hard and undeniable.

“Ryan,” I whisper, but my voice comes out shaky, not at all the warning I intended it to be.

He doesn’t respond, not with words. Instead, he turns me around slowly, his hands never leaving my body. His eyes are dark, filled with something I have never seen in him before. His gaze travels over me, from the bare skin of my shoulders to the curve of my waist, as though he’s seeing me for the first time.

My breath quickens. My mind is screaming at me to stop this, to push him away, but my body won’t listen. Instead, I stand there, vulnerable and exposed in front of him, my chest rising and falling as he takes me in.

And then, before I can say anything, his lips are on mine, soft at first, tentative, as if he’s waiting for me to pull away. But I don’t.

I can’t.

My body betrays me, leaning into him, my hands coming up to rest on his chest. His heart is beating just as fast as mine, and that realization sends a jolt of something through me.

This is wrong. We have spent two years barely touching, barely looking at each other. We have shared separate rooms, lived separate lives. We have never even seen each other naked.

But none of that matters in this moment.

His kiss deepens, and I respond without thinking, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as his hands roam up my back. There’s no hesitation now. He pushes the dress off my shoulders, the fabric sliding to the floor in a whisper of silk. And still, I don’t stop him.

I have never seen this side of him, this raw, unfiltered hunger, and it ignites something in me that I didn’t even know was there. I imagined it existed, just never had an opportunity to experience it. My body moves of its own accord, pressing closer to him, needing more. His hands are everywhere, exploring, learning the shape of me for the first time.

And I let him.

It’s only when I feel his fingers on the clasp of my bra that reality comes crashing back. I pull back suddenly, breathing hard, my chest heaving as I meet his gaze. For a second, I see something vulnerable in his eyes, something almost hesitant.

But then he steps back, his expression guarded again, his hands falling to his sides.

We stand there in silence, the air between us thick with everything that just happened, and everything that didn’t.

“I…I should go to bed,” I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nods once but says nothing. I quickly gather my dress and walk out of the room, my heart racing, my mind spinning.

I enter my room and immediately drop my heels and dress on the small couch in my room. I need to take a shower before I get into bed. I hear a soft knock on my door.

I walk over to open the door and find Ryan, looking dishevelled and earnest. His eyes, usually so guarded, are now filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability. He stands there, swaying slightly, and I can tell he’s fighting to keep his composure.

“Ryan, what’s wrong?” I ask softly, concern threading through my voice.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he says, his voice breaking. “I can’t keep pretending. I have been such a fool, Tess. I have wasted so much time, and I can’t bear the thought of us separating without ever truly knowing.”

I look at him, my mind racing with thoughts. “Ryan, you are drunk. You should get some rest.”

“No,” he insists, stepping closer. “This isn’t just the alcohol talking. It’s the truth. I have been afraid to face my feelings, but I can’t run from them any longer.”

I hesitate, searching his eyes for any sign of deception. Slowly, I step aside, letting him into my room. The door closes behind us, the sound echoing in the quiet night. The silence between us feels thick and heavy. I am not sure what to expect, but I brace myself for whatever comes next.

“Ryan, what are you doing here?” I ask, my voice edged with confusion and concern.

“I needed to talk to you,” he says, his words slurring a bit. “I can’t keep this up, Theresa. I have been such a fool.”

“Ryan, you should be resting,” I say, trying to keep my tone calm. “You are drunk. We can talk in the morning.”

“No,” he insists, taking a step closer. “I have been avoiding this for too long.”

Ryan almost falls to the floor after missing a step, but I am quick to pull him up before he touches the floor.

“Like I said, you are drunk. Let me help you to your room,” I suggest.

“No! I want to talk to you.”

Let’s hear what he wants to say. I help him sit on my bed.

“Let me get you some orange juice from the kitchen.” Orange juice helps him sober up.

But before I can leave, Ryan grabs my arm, pulling me back.

“Tess,” he slurs, his voice heavy with emotion. “Wait.”

I turn to face him, my heart pounding. “What is it, Ryan?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pulls me closer, his hands rough against my skin. “I... I have been a fool,” he mutters, his breath warm and tinged with alcohol. “I have wasted so much time.”

I can see the turmoil in his eyes, the regret and confusion. Before I can respond, he kisses me, his lips urgent and desperate. I am taken aback, but a part of me has longed for this, for any sign of genuine emotion from him.

I try to pull away, but he holds me tight, his touch becoming more insistent. “Ryan, you are drunk,” I protest, my voice trembling.

“I know,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear. “But I need this. I need you.”

His words cut through me, a mixture of longing and pain. I have craved his touch, his affection, even if it’s only for tonight. So, I let him pull me closer, let his hands explore my body. It’s not the tender moment I have imagined, but it’s something, and in this moment, I need it too.

There’s an urgency to his actions, a desperation that mirrors my own. As he kisses me, I let myself get lost in the sensation, the heat of his body against mine. It’s a mixture of passion and pain, a final connection before the end. For the first time, we are not just playing a part. This is real, raw, and unfiltered.

As we move together, I can feel the walls we have built around ourselves crumbling. There’s no more pretence, no more hiding. Just us, stripped bare of all our defences. It’s not perfect, but it’s honest, and in this moment, it’s enough.

When it’s over, we lie there in the darkness, our breaths heavy and uneven. The reality of what just happened settles in, and I feel a mixture of relief and sorrow. This was our first true moment of intimacy, and it will also be our last.

Ryan’s arm wraps around me, pulling me close. “I am sorry,” he whispers, his voice filled with regret.

I don’t know what to say, so I simply rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. We may not have had the love story I once dreamed of, but tonight, for the first time, we were real. And in the morning, we will face the reality of our choices and the new paths we must walk alone.