CHAPTER THREE

Gary’s POV

The place was dim, drenched in a red glow that clung to the velvet walls like a secret. It smelled of perfume, musk, and quiet desperation. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not tonight. Not ever.

My father thought I was out with some senator’s daughter, another blind date in a line of many. He wanted me married off quickly. As if a wedding ring could fix grief, as if a wife could replace what I had lost. What I was losing.

But I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t stand another fake smile. Another shallow conversation where I pretended to be okay. So I came here, to the one place where I could lose myself without being judged.

I didn’t want sex. I wanted something simple. Intimate. Real.

So when they told me about the private room. No talking, no sex, just kissing, I agreed. It sounded stupid at first. A room where two people just kissed? But I was desperate for something that felt honest. Something human.

I stepped in expecting a woman. Maybe blonde. Maybe soft-spoken.

But the figure standing there in the low light didn’t speak. Neither did I.

It was part of the arrangement. No names. No questions. Just the moment.

I moved closer. Close enough to feel the air shift between us. Then our lips touched.

At first, it was gentle. Testing. But as the seconds passed, it grew deeper. Our mouths moved like they remembered each other. Like they knew something our minds hadn’t caught up to.

And then it hit me. This kiss. I had felt it before.

The weight of it. The hunger. The way he breathed out shakily when I pressed a little harder. It wasn’t unfamiliar. It was… déjà vu. Like I'd already kissed this person, but couldn't remember where or when.

My hands stayed at my side. I didn’t dare hold her. I didn’t want to break the spell.

When we pulled apart, we said nothing. I turned and walked out, pulse racing, heart slamming into my ribs.

For the next few days, I couldn't focus. That kiss kept replaying in my head, haunting me. It wasn’t lust. It was a question I couldn’t answer. I went back to the house again. And again. Hoping she'd be there.

But every time, someone else waited.

It drove me crazy.

One night, I paid extra just to know who she was.

They warned me that sometimes the mystery was better than the truth. But I didn’t care. I needed to know. My hands trembled when they drew back the curtain.

And there there was Clause Jefferson.

My late wife’s brother.

The man who had kissed me the night of her funeral, the kiss I’d convinced myself I imagined. But it hadn’t been a dream. It was real.

He was the person in the private room.

Everything hit me like a truck.

The tension I’d felt around him. The confusion. The flashes of desire I’d buried under guilt. It all made sense now.

I started seeing him. Really seeing him.

His hair, always a bit messy like he ran his fingers through it when nervous. His intense blue eyes. Eyes that felt like they could read every part of me. The way his shirts clung to his chest and arms—he wasn’t the skinny kid I once knew. He’d grown into a man.

Strong. Quiet. Devastating.

And suddenly… I wanted him.

The next morning, my phone buzzed. It was Clause.

He asked to meet. Said he needed to talk. His voice was soft, but I could hear something else in it. Nervousness. Maybe fear.

We met at the same bar where it all began, the night of the funeral. Same VIP booth. Same amber lighting. Same smell of whiskey.

He sat across from me, fingers tapping against his glass.

“I kissed you that night,” he said quietly, looking down. “You were drunk. But it wasn’t a dream. It was me.”

I just stared.

I didn’t know what to say. My thoughts were a mess, swirling like a storm. That kiss. The room. Him.

And now he was sitting in front of me, confessing.

He looked terrified. Like I’d stand up and walk away.

But I didn’t.

I leaned forward, eyes locked on his and I kissed him.

No hesitation, no more pretending.

And when he kissed me back, it wasn’t shy or uncertain. It was deep. Full of longing. Like we’d both been starving and finally got to eat.

We stumbled out of the bar together, laughing breathlessly, drunk on each other, not alcohol. He flagged down a cab and whispered something to the driver. Minutes later, we arrived at a hotel.

We barely made it into the room before our lips found each other again.

I pressed him against the door, hands greedy, mouths clashing. His fingers tugged at my coat, and I peeled his shirt off, heart pounding.

He was beautiful. I hadn’t really noticed before. Or maybe I refused to.

But now I couldn’t look away.

My mouth trailed kisses down his neck, over his chest. He gasped when I grazed a sensitive spot, and his fingers dug into my back.

“Say my name,” he whispered, voice shaky.

“Clause,” I breathed into his skin.

He dropped to his knees.

My breath hitched.

He unbuckled my belt slowly, like it was sacred. His hands brushed over my thighs, and then his mouth. Hot, wet, perfect. Wrapped around me.

I couldn’t think.

I gripped his hair, groaning.

Every flick of his tongue was like lightning. He didn’t rush. He took his time. Let me feel every second.

I pulled him up. “Get on the bed.”

He obeyed, lips swollen, chest heaving.

I joined him, hands roaming over his body, exploring every inch. He trembled under me, moaning into my mouth as I kissed him again and again.

When I finally slid into him, he arched his back, mouth falling open in a silent scream.

His hands clutched my shoulders. Mine tangled in the sheets.

We moved like we were made for each other.

It wasn’t just sex. It was something else.

Something deep, raw, real.

We kissed through it all. Through the guilt, the fear, the shame.

And in that moment, I didn’t care about right or wrong. All I cared about was the man beneath me. The way he whispered my name like a secret. The way his eyes searched mine like I was the answer to a question he’d been asking for years.

When we collapsed, tangled in sweat and breathlessness, I held him.

I didn’t want the moment to end.

But deep down, I knew everything had changed.

Clause wasn’t a mistake, he was the beginning of something dangerous.

And I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to stop it anymore.