Drunk

I looked away, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. At the time, my head was… I was just thinking about making things right. Putting my life back together.”

He studied me for a moment, then leaned slightly closer.

“Can you please just tell me your name?” I asked, trying to make my voice light, maybe even flirtatious.

“I don’t know,” he said, and I noticed something in his eyes, disappointment?

“You’re going to have to earn it,” he added softly.

“And how do you suppose I do that?” I asked him, voice low, silky smooth, almost teasing.

There was something in me stirring, something long buried. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was him. But suddenly, the part of me that used to command a classroom, that used to flirt with confidence, that part wanted to come out and play.

“I haven’t decided yet,” he said, holding my gaze without flinching. His eyes were a challenge.

“Oh, so now it’s a mystery?” I raised an eyebrow, leaning into the moment, hoping my pose landed somewhere between charming and dangerously sexy.

He smiled slowly, slyly, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me. “Maybe you just have to figure out how to get it out of me.”

I couldn’t help it, I grinned, wide and wicked, and took another sip of my drink. My glass was nearly empty, so I reached for the bottle, ready to pour myself another.

But just as I tilted it, his hand shot out, catching my arm with firm gentleness. The second his skin touched mine, I nearly gasped.

A current ripped through me, intense and startling. Zing. Like lightning. I felt it all the way to my toes. Every nerve lit up like it had been waiting, begging for this moment. For this hand. For his hand.

I looked down at where he held me, his fingers warm and grounding, but also somehow lighting me on fire.

How could one touch feel this electrifying?

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog. It’s just the wine, I told myself. Definitely just the wine.

“What?” I asked him, breath a little uneven.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gently took the bottle from me and poured just a splash of wine into my glass.

“I think that’s enough,” he said quietly, sliding the bottle away.

“Oh, so now you’re going to control my alcohol too?” I shot back, eyebrow arched in mock offence.

His gaze lingered on my face, slow and thoughtful. And then he said, with a smirk,

“I’m not controlling any part of your life. Or your body.” He leaned just slightly closer, his voice a delicious promise. “At least… not yet.”

I don’t know why, but his words did something to me. They did something to my brain. Something to my body.

He was already so close, too close and all I had to do was lean in, just the tiniest bit more, and I could kiss him.

So I did.

I pushed myself toward him, closed my eyes because I couldn’t bear to see the look on his face when I did it and kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was fast, sharp, hungry. It was a kiss driven by impulse and fear, by loneliness and wine, by the aching need to feel something that wasn’t pain.

And then I let go. I pulled back and breathed hard, fast, still unable to process what I had just done.

He didn’t move. He didn’t say a word. He just sat there, staring at me with something between shock and disbelief. His eyes fixed on me like I was a puzzle he hadn’t expected to solve tonight.

I couldn’t believe what I had done either.

This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the woman I’d become in the last ten years. I’d been Ryan’s. Loyal. Controlled. Predictable. This? This was reckless. This was spontaneous. This was… me before I forgot who that woman even was.

And yes, I blamed it on the wine. The wine, and the pain.....

He didn’t kiss me back. Not even a little. So what did that mean?

Did he not feel the same way? Was he taken? Married? Did I just ruin something that never even had a chance to begin?

I panicked.

“Oh my God,” I gasped, the words tumbling from my mouth like broken glass. “I’m so sorry. I, I shouldn’t have done that.”

I shook my head, my hand trembling as I pushed my hair behind my ears. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You’re right, I really should stop drinking. Before I do something I regret even more.”

Still nothing from him. Not a word. Just his eyes, fixed on me like he was searching for something deeper than I knew how to hide.

And then slowly his face shifted. The shock melted away, and in its place came a seriousness that made my pulse stumble.

He leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable. And just when I thought the silence might crush me, he opened his mouth.

“That was… something,” he said, nodding slightly, his voice smooth but unreadable. “I didn’t know you had such feelings for me.”

I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning. I couldn’t help myself. I was dying from embarrassment.

"Let’s just blame it on the wine, okay? Can we do that? Let’s blame the wine and pretend that never happened.”

He smiled then, not kindly, not sweetly, but with a slow, devilish grin that sent a chill down my spine. Almost cold. Almost knowing.

Without a word, he raised a hand and made eye contact with the waiter. The man came quickly like they had an understanding.

“A bottle of water,” he said simply.

The waiter nodded and returned swiftly, placing the bottle on the table. The man opened it, pouring it neatly into a crystal glass. I watched him. Watched how he moved, how intentional and in control he was, and yet something wild danced beneath the surface.

He pushed the glass of water toward me.

I reached for it slowly, my fingers brushing the glass, my heart pounding like I’d run a marathon.

Then he spoke.

“So here’s the thing,” he said, calm as ever. “You like me?”

I paused.

He nodded, answering for himself. “I like you too. In fact…” he leaned in just a little, voice lower now, “I think you’re hot. Really hot.”

My breath hitched. I froze, somewhere between melting and combusting.

“You wanna come onto me?” he said, cocking an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. “That’s fine. But here’s the thing, I don’t do drunk women.”

He gestured to the water with a smirk. “So why don’t you drink a glass or a few of this, sober up a little, and then maybe.... maybe, after an hour, you can try that move you just pulled again… and see what happens.”

He winked.

Oh my God.

I think I just had a mini orgasm