MAXEN
I'm still finding it difficult to believe Rian asked me out to dinner.
Of all our encounters, he's never shown this kind of boldness before.
Sure, he exudes confidence—effortlessly, even—but this?
This feels different. Like he's letting me see a version of himself he rarely shows.
And I'm prepared for it. Ready for it, even.
That single message brought me here—to one of the most expensive restaurants in Aurelia Bay.
A place I've passed by a hundred times but never had a reason to step into.
From what I've seen of Rian—his social media, the charity gala, his public image—this doesn't seem like his usual scene either.
He doesn't flaunt wealth. He doesn't dine extravagantly.
But still... I couldn't risk making a bad impression on what might be...
What?
Our first date?
Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. But the possibility... it's intoxicating.
A buzz from my pocket draws me back.
Rian: "I've arrived."
I reply quickly. Okay.
And inhale slowly, steadying my nerves.
---
He walks in like he owns the room—sharp in black, with that quiet elegance only he can pull off.
I stand up instinctively, and he gives me a nod, lips twitching into a small, amused smile.
"Nice choice," he says, eyes sweeping the room.
"Didn't want to ruin our first dinner with cheap lighting and noisy kids running around."
"First dinner?" he echoes, brow raised.
I hesitate. "Well... we've never really sat down and talked. Just the two of us."
Rian hums as he takes his seat. "True."
The waiter comes. We order. We talk.
At first, it's light—charity events, awkward run-ins with reporters, bad coffee at high-end hotels.
His laugh is low and addictive, and it keeps slipping past his lips more often than I expected.
But then, somewhere between the main course and dessert, the air shifts.
He goes quiet.
I look up—and he's watching me.
Not glancing.
Watching.
His eyes are darker in this light. His gaze intense. Focused.
It stops me mid-sentence.
"What?" I ask, heart racing.
"You're nervous," he says, voice low.
I laugh softly, trying to play it off. "Am I?"
"Yeah. Your shoulders tense up when you're nervous."
My breath catches. "You've been paying that much attention to me?"
He shrugs, but there's a smug little tilt to his mouth. "Only since you started watching me like that."
I try to answer—but the words don't come.
Because he's not looking away.
Neither am I.
His eyes search mine like he's looking for a crack in my armor—and finding it.
"I didn't expect tonight to feel like this," I admit.
"Like what?"
"Like... something I don't want to end."
He doesn't smile this time. Instead, he says quietly, "Then don't let it."
We finish dessert in silence, tension humming between us.
And then we leave—walking side by side into the cool night air.
Our shoulders brush once, and again, and this time, we don't step away.
Outside, under the warm glow of the streetlamp, we pause.
I turn to him. "Rian—"
He steps closer, close enough that I can smell the subtle scent of his cologne—fresh, grounding.
"You're still nervous," he murmurs.
"Maybe. Are you?"
"No."
Then, without a moment more, he reaches out—his fingers brushing along my jaw before surprising me with a hug.
He buries his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling slowly. The sensation sends a shiver through me.
I wrap my arms around him, and he tightens the embrace.
Then—soft, almost hesitant—his lips brush against my neck. A kiss.
Then another, trailing along my jawline. My breath stutters.
His hand moves to the back of my neck, pulling me even closer.
And then he whispers, "Xen."
The way he says my name—with longing—nearly makes me cum in my pants.
And then his mouth claims mine.
Hungry.
Desperate.
Like he's been waiting for this—for me—and I didn't realize how much I needed it too.
His tongue explores my mouth like it knows its way, like it's done it a thousand times in dreams and fantasies.
My hands tighten around his waist. A soft gasp escapes me—helpless and wanting.
Our bodies press together, arousal igniting fast between us.
Even through layers of fabric, the tension is undeniable—feverish and unspoken.
I'm seconds from rocking forward, losing myself in him completely, when he pulls back.
Leaving me breathless.
Flushed.
Wanting.
He looks at me—cool, collected, but his eyes burn with the same fire coursing through me.
"Now you can congratulate me properly," he says, voice low and sharp with meaning.
Then he turns and steps into his car.
Leaving me under the streetlight, breathless—like if I blink, I'll lose the taste of him on my lips.
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TO BE CONTINUED...
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