Chapter 3: One Night With My Ex

Diana

“Yes, Diana…”

I threw my arms around him, hugging him tightly before he could speak further.

“Oh my God,” I whispered against his chest. “Harry Scot.”

His arms hung at his sides for a moment before he slowly wrapped them around me.

“Diana Bennett.”

I pulled back to stare at him. He still remembered my maiden name, even after all these years.

My eyes burned, and before I could stop them, tears spilled down my cheeks.

“It’s really you,” I breathed, laughing as I clutched his jacket. “You’re actually here.”

“I’m here.” His hands settled on my shoulders as he studied my face. “Diana what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.” I wiped my cheeks quickly. “Can’t a woman hug an old friend?”

“An old friend?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Is that what I am now?”

I opened my mouth, then shut it again.

He glanced at the empty glass on the counter before looking back at me.

“Have you been drinking…?”

“Of course not.” I cut in sharply, sniffing back.

His gaze dropped to my glass. I followed it, then sighed.

“Fine. A little.”

“How much is a little, Diana?”

“Must you interrogate me every moment you see me?” I reached for my glass, but he moved it out of reach.

“Hey! Give that back.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, though the room swayed slightly when I turned my head.

“Harry, we’ve barely been together again for five minutes, and you’re already telling me what to do,” I slurred with a clumsy smile.

“And you’ve spent the last two crying into my chest. Forgive me for being concerned.”

My smile faltered.

“God, I’ve missed you.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

His expression softened. “I’ve missed you too, Diana.”

For a moment, we simply stared at each other, as if neither of us knew what to say next. Then he pulled out the stool beside mine and sat down.

“So, what are you doing here all alone?”

I laughed bitterly, reaching for my glass and he let me. “I’m married, remember? Happily married.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’ve never been good at lying to me.”

I took a sip. “Then stop asking questions.”

“Is this about your husband?”

My fingers tightened around the glass. “Please, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Mention the man you married?”

“Listen Harry, you don’t get to question me about my marriage.”

“Fine.” He leaned closer. “Then tell me about us.”

My throat tightened. “Harry—”

“You left, Diana.” His jaw clenched. “You looked me in the eye and said you didn’t want us anymore. Then you walked away.”

“And you… you disappeared.” I reached for another sip, but he snatched the glass from my hand.

“Because you told me to!” He dragged a hand through his hair. “What did you expect me to do? And you need to stop drinking. You’re clearly getting drunk.”

I stared at the glass in his hand, my fingers curling against the counter.

He had no idea why I’d left. No idea what it had cost me. And with Lawrence and Jasmine haunting my thoughts, I couldn’t bring myself to explain.

“Forget it,” I muttered.

“Was it that easy for you to forget us?”

I snapped my gaze up. “Do you think it was?”

“Then tell me it wasn’t.”

I swallowed hard, unable to find the right words.

Harry watched me in silence before speaking again. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

My chest tightened. “Please, can we not talk about this?”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t do this.”

“Do what? Talk about us?”

“Talk about what happened between us!” My voice cracked. I glanced at the couple beside us before lowering it. “You don’t know anything about my life anymore.”

“Then let me in.”

I shook my head, blinking back tears. He reached across the counter and brushed his fingers against mine.

I should have pulled away. Instead, I turned my palm upward and let him lace his fingers through mine.

His gaze dropped to our joined hands.

“Diana…” he whispered.

I hated how one word from him could undo years of pretending.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you still—”

“Still what?”

My gaze fell to his lips.

Harry leaned closer, pausing just inches from me. I could have moved away. But I didn’t. His mouth covered mine, and I grabbed his jacket, kissing him back with all the longing I’d spent years trying to bury. For a few reckless seconds, I forgot Lawrence. Jasmine. My marriage.

When we broke apart, he brushed his thumb across my cheek.

“Come with me.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding.

He stood and held out his hand. “Come on, Diana.”

I took it.

………………………

The car service he’d booked dropped us off at the hotel where he’d already checked in, just a few streets from the club. He helped me upstairs, and the second the door closed behind us, Harry pushed me against it. His hands were everywhere—in my hair, under my dress, gripping my thighs as he lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed him like I was starving.

Our clothes came off in a desperate rush. My silk dress hit the floor, followed by his jacket. When his bare chest pressed against mine, a broken sound escaped my throat.

It had been so long since anyone had touched me like this. So long since I had felt wanted.

Harry carried me to the bed and laid me down. His mouth traveled down my neck, between my breasts, lower. He pushed my thighs apart, pressed my breasts hard in his grip, and put his mouth on my cunt.

“Ahh… Goddamit..”

He licked and sucked my clit until my back arched off the mattress, fingers tangled in his hair, his name a broken cry on my lips.

“Fuck… Harry—mmm”

He didn’t give me time to recover. He climbed over me, eyes hazy and damn sinful with the same need I felt. When he pushed his rock-hard cock inside me, slow and deep, I nearly sobbed.

“Ha…rry… what the fuck.”

It felt too good. Too right to be wrong. We moved together like we had never been apart. Every thrust drove the loneliness out of me. Every kiss reminded me of everything I had lost. I clung to him as my orgasm ripped through me, and he followed with a low groan, burying his face in my neck.

Afterward we lay tangled in the sheets, sweat cooling on our skin. Harry’s fingers traced lazy patterns on my lips.

“Stay with me,” he murmured.

I didn’t answer. I only closed my eyes and let the alcohol and the afterglow pull me under.

……

I woke to the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains. My head throbbed, and my body ached in ways that made the night rush back in vivid, humiliating detail.

Harry was still asleep beside me, one arm thrown across the pillow, breathing evenly. Panic washed over me first, followed by a heavy, immediate wave of guilt.

What the hell had I done?

I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could, gathering my clothes with shaking hands. My hair was a mess. I looked exactly like a woman who had spent the night doing something she shouldn’t have.

I didn’t leave a note. I didn’t look back. By the time the taxi dropped me at Grant's residence, the sun was fully up. The security guards opened the gate without a word, though I caught them stealing glances at my appearance.

I hurried through the front doors, hoping to reach my room unnoticed.

Unfortunately, Lawrence was already in the foyer, dressed for the day. He turned at the sound of my footsteps, his gaze sweeping over my wrinkled dress and messy hair before settling on my eyes, which I struggled to meet. His expression hardened.

“Where the hell are you coming from?”