Ellison And Joycelyn A Love Beyond The Rules

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..."

"Yes, we did," he replied firmly.

Her sharp intake of breath echoed in the sudden silence.

"Having regrets now?" His expression remained unreadable.

She wrestled with her answer. Objectively speaking, her first time with a gorgeous, skilled partner had

been incredible. But sleeping with her direct superior? That was career suicide.

"Well, Mr. Grant," she began carefully, "I was drunk last night and barely remember anything. We're both adults can't we just forget this and go back to normal?"

His lips curved into a dangerous smile as he studied her. "You're still in my bed and already trying to pretend this never happened?"

Catching sight of the hickeys she'd left on his collarbone, she pulled the sheets higher. "Then at least turn around so I can get dressed."

Instead, he moved toward the bed, his weight making the mattress dip. Her breath caught as his handsome face loomed over hers. She tried to retreat, but he caught her wrists, pinning them above her head.

In their struggle, the sheet slipped to her waist. Skin met skin, sending tingles of electricity through her body. A shiver ran down her spine.

"Mr. Grant-" Her protest died in her throat.

Her heart raced as heat flooded her face. His weight pressed her into the mattress, the position simultaneously thrilling and mortifying. The tension in his features as he held himself in check only made him more irresistible.

"You said you couldn't remember anything," he murmured, his intense gaze holding hers. "Then let me refresh your memory."

Her blush deepened as she tried to look anywhere but at him. A glimpse of his taut muscles reminded her exactly how well-equipped he was. Even as a novice, she knew that desire, once unleashed, was impossible to contain.

His masculine form pressed against her once more. His teeth grazed her pale collarbone, drawing a soft whimper from her lips.

"Mr. Grant!" She meant to stop him, but her breathy moan betrayed her.

Now fully sober, she found him even more overwhelming than before. This was the final day of the company retreat they were supposed to head back after lunch. If they delayed much longer, her colleagues would surely notice. But he seemed intent on taking his time.

"Please," she whispered urgently.

"Soon," he promised.

She was losing her mind. Biting her lip, she fought to contain the embarrassing sounds threatening to escape.

Just then, a knock at the door interrupted them, followed by the sound of executives laughing in the hallway.

"Mr. Grant, lunch is ready. We'll be departing for the office afterward," a voice called out.

Joycelyn grabbed this chance like a lifeline. "Mr. Grant, we need to go. We can't be late, and it would be terrible if anyone found out." Her earlier boldness had vanished completely, replaced by panic. Frustration flickered across Ellison's features at the interruption. Rolling away, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand and made a call. A ringtone sounded from the hallway.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Joycelyn clutched the sheet to her chest. Spotting a white shopping bag with women's clothing beside the bed, she snatched it up and hurried to the bathroom.

"Go ahead without me." He spoke into the phone. "I'll be down shortly." The voices outside soon faded away.

Joycelyn dressed as quickly as possible, wincing slightly at her tender muscles. As she emerged, another phone rang in the room.

Ellison was buckling his belt when he reached for it. "Yes?"

Joycelyn froze in the bathroom doorway, noticing that was her phone in his hand.

She lunged forward in panic, forgetting her soreness. Her legs betrayed her, and she stumbled. Still on the call, Ellison caught her effortlessly with one arm.

"Hello?" He spoke into the phone.

Joycelyn snatched it away, ending the call. Her stomach dropped as she saw the caller ID-Selene Whitmore.

Meanwhile, in the hallway outside Joycelyn's room, Selene exchanged shocked looks with their coworkers.

"Did a man just answer Joycelyn's phone?" She paused, eyes widening. "And that sexy voice... it sounded exactly like Mr. Grant."