03. One night

Scarlett:

He was just… there.

Seated at the corner stool by the bar, backlit by the amber glow behind it. He looked like he didn't belong here. He wasn't talking. Wasn't drinking. Not even pretending to blend in. Just sitting there...watching me.

He didn't even look away when I caught him. Shameless.

Instead, his gaze slid down the line of my body, taking in every curve, every inch my dress dared to reveal. Then it climbed back up to my face, locking on like he’d just undressed me and was deciding what to do next.

My breath stuttered. Heat pooled low in my stomach, a sharp throb blooming where I didn’t want it to.

My chest rose and my lips parted.

His mouth curved, slightly, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me. I turned away too fast, heat rushing to my cheeks.

God. What the hell was that?

I tipped the rest of my drink, warmth buzzing through my veins. A server walked by and I dropped the glass in her tray, trying to focus on how the music pulsed through me.

I started moving again, eyes searching for Hera who was no longer in front of me. When I found her, she was across the room, locking lips with some man and with the way they had their hands on each other...

A frown crept up my face, knowing how this was going to end.

“You okay?” she called over the music, after getting off him. I nodded, eyes narrowing at the small of her back where the man's hand rested, guiding her against him as he turned towards the exit. Fuck. She was going to leave me here.

She pursed her lips, catching my expression: “I’m sorry, Scar.” I feigned disbelief and she pouted pleadingly, making me sigh.

“I fucking hate you!” I yelled and from the smile that spread on her lips, she'd heard me

“I’ll text you, have fun!” she winked as she finally turned, leaving with the man.

Fun? Yeah right.

Hera was a legendary swinger. If not Tinder dates, she was going out with a random hot man she met on the streets. Dangerous, I know but it was thrilling to her. Besides, she had an appeal anyone would want to bask in.

And, she was one to take risks unlike me.

The only risk I'd taken so far was getting married to Stephen and look how that turned out.

But I didn't appreciate her taking a risk tonight because I was alone now and very aware of him. His gaze was still heavy, searing, like he was daring me to look again.

It took everything in me not to turn. For some reason, I felt a thrill knowing he was just sitting there and watching me like I was the only thing worth looking at in the room.

Without meaning to, my movements changed. Slowly and intentionally, my fingers trailing my hips and arms. My heart pounded behind my ribs, loudly, skin prickling from the heat of his gaze. With every roll of my hips, I realized I was giving him a show.

Suddenly, a man in a crisp shirt stumbled into my space. He was tall, with a sure smirk on his face as he leered at me. “Hey, beautiful.”

I forced a smile and turned away but he leaned closer, his hand grazing my arm as he laughed under his breath.

“Playing hard to get, darling? I know your type.”

Disgust pulsed through my veins.

“I’m not interested,” I said, voice firm.

“C’mon, I just want —” He paused mid-sentence, eyes darting over my shoulder like he'd seen something dangerous.

I shifted slightly, not turning because I felt him. He was closing in. My heartbeat picked up a notch, my breath catching.

The man before me pressed his lips into a thin line, cautious, as he slowly backed away, melting into the crowd.

Then I felt it — heat, solid and undeniable, right behind me.

My body knew before my brain caught up, that he was the one. He didn’t touch me at first, just stepped into my space like he had every right to occupy it.

It was ridiculous just how much my body reacted to this stranger.

I felt him lean in. His scent, dark and expensive evading my senses. Then his low voice brushed my ear, smooth and deep, meant for me alone.

“This little performance… is it for me?”

A shiver skated down my spine, but I kept my voice even. “Do you go to clubs assuming everyone’s dancing for you?”

His chuckle was low, close enough that it brushed against my ear. “I know what’s meant for me when I see it.”

My breath caught.

“Well, you’re mistaken. I’m not dancing for you.”

Lie.

“Is that so?” His voice was quieter now, coaxing, taunting. “Then why are you leaning into me?”

My body went rigid. Heat rushed up my neck. I wasn’t leaning. Crap! I was. I tried to turn, but his hands closed around my hips, holding me there, firm. My body jolted at the contact.

I should’ve moved. I didn’t.

“Fuck…” I muttered under my breath.

He chuckled again, the sound vibrating through me.

He pulled me back into him, fitting me flush against his chest like I belonged there. His grip tightened, guiding my hips in slow, deliberate rolls.

We moved in sync. His chest against my back, his breath warm against my skin. To anyone else, it was just dancing. To me, it felt like something else entirely.

At some point, I tipped my head to look at him. He was tall with broad shoulders and stormy grey eyes that darkened as our eyes met. His dark hair was tussled like he'd run a hand through it more than once.

This man was handsome — in that dangerous, ruin-your-life way.

And right now, I don't mind getting ruined by him.

I turned away when I saw his lips curve like he knew what I was thinking. Eventually, he leaned in, voice low against my ear.

“Come with me.”

I knew exactly what he meant. Exactly where this would go. My core clenched just thinking about it.

Reckless? Absolutely. But for some reason, I couldn’t make myself care. What did I have to lose? It was just going to be a night.

I nodded a little too eagerly before I could stop myself.

His hand slid into mine, pulling me through the crowd. I followed without a fight, feeling my heart pound against my ribs.

Tonight, I might just do something stupid.

_____

My eyes fluttered open and the first thing I felt was warmth. The second was a pain — sweet, deep, unmistakable ache between my thighs.

And this wasn’t my room.

For a second, I didn’t move. My mouth was dry, my head heavy, my body even heavier. Then it hit me.

Last night. The club.

Him.

The memories crashed in hard and hot, too vivid to deny. His hands. His mouth. His body pounding into mine like he owned it. My moans echoing off the walls.

“Oh, fuck.”

I had sex with a stranger.

Undoubtedly, the best sex of my life.

God, my skin still felt scorched from his touch. My body still hummed from the way he’d taken me, like he knew what I wanted.

I shook my head. Scarlett, not now.

Adrenaline shot through my veins and I bolted upright, ignoring the ache between my thighs. My eyes swept the room — empty. No sign of him. Just a man’s jacket draped over the chair like he’d only stepped out for a minute.

Shit.

I scrambled for my dress, crumpled near the bed, my heels tipped sideways beneath the nightstand, and put them on without looking in the mirror. I didn’t want to stare at the aftermath of my decisions.

When I was done, I practically dashed out of the room, my pulse still racing like I’d stolen something.

One night.

A reckless, filthy, mind-blowing mistake.

That’s all it was.

At least, that's what I told myself.