I kept my focus on Winston, deliberately ignoring the guy’s presence, but he wasn’t getting the message. His body language was clear—he wasn’t just here to dance.
Winston noticed.
His movements slowed for half a beat, his eyes flicking toward the guy, assessing, before coming back to me. He didn’t speak, didn’t react outright, but I could feel the shift in him, like a wire tightening between us.
I stopped moving and held my breath, unsure which one of them would make the next move first. Unexpectedly, the stranger grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him, and I freaked out and shrieked. The action triggered bad memories for me, of when my father used to do the same to force me to get closer to him, to give in. My scream didn’t cover the music, but Winston’s fist landed squarely in the guy’s jaw.
What happened afterward was a mess.
The college guy tried to hit Winston back, but he dodged the blow, already getting ready to hit the college guy again. I saw people aimtheir phones at us. By tomorrow, this entire sordid incident would be splashed all over the media.
I shouted, “No!” and tried to stop Winston from throwing a second punch. At the same time, one of the men I’d noticed trailing us earlier clasped the college guy’s forearm in a tight, merciless grip, twisting it behind his back. The other guy from earlier flanked him on the left side, and they both escorted him out. Winston nodded briefly at them.
The two men hadn’t been there to stalk me. They were Winston’s security detail.
For a moment, I felt exposed, my anonymity slipping under their watchful eyes. What must they think of me, standing here by his side? The thought prickled, sharp and unwelcome. But instead of running, I straightened my spine. Let them look. Let them wonder. If they’d already judged me, so be it—I’d lived through worse.
A girl in a fishnet dress was shamelessly filming us, her camera in our faces—in Winston’s, mostly.
Annoyance flared in me. People had no boundaries anymore. No shame.
I turned my back to her and tugged at Winston’s hand. “Let’s go!” I shouted in his ear over the pounding bass.
He nodded, already moving with me toward the edge of the dance floor. But just as we started weaving through the crowd, the music shifted, the heavy beat fading into something slower, smoother. Ed Sheeran’s “Thinking Out Loud.”
I froze.
The opening chords wrapped around me like a slow embrace, stopping me in my tracks before I could think better of it. The urge was instant, overwhelming.Just this once.
Winston turned, brows lifting in question. My grip on his hand tightened for a second, hesitating.
Then I looked up at him, a soft smile playing on my lips—an unspoken invitation in my eyes.
Understanding flickered across his face, and before I could second-guess myself, he pulled me toward him.
I let him.
Phones, gawkers, security—none of it mattered. Not right now. His arms wrapped around my body, holding me close. He moved easily to the slower rhythm. The shift suited him, with the controlled grace of a man who didn’t need to prove anything.
Being in his arms felt like sinking into warmth, his body solid and steady against mine. His hand pressed gently against my back, fingers warm through the fabric of my dress, guiding me in a way that felt both natural and deliberate. The faint scent of him, of his skin, a hint of lavender, wrapped around me, mixing with the subtle spice of his cologne.
Our bodies swayed together, finding an effortless rhythm, the space between us shrinking with every slow turn. His breath fanned against my temple, and the heat of his touch lingered, sending little sparks along my skin. The moment stretched, stretched again, dissolving everything beyond the music and the quiet tension threading between us.
I rested my head on his chest, sensing his strong, steady heartbeat beneath the soft fabric of his shirt, the scent of him stronger, filling my nostrils. The connection between us sizzled and deepened while the lyrics of the song seemed to tell our story, the story that could’ve been, a lifetime spent loving each other after falling in love right there, right then.
Still dancing, I raised my head and looked deeply into his eyes. His forehead rested against mine for a moment, and then he kissed my lips softly.
“Stay with me tonight,” he said, and I nearly said yes. As the song ended, we kissed again, hungrily. When the thumping beats of another mash-up started pounding, I pulled away from him. He led me to the table, but I shook my head. He mouthed,Thank you,and laughed all the way to the exit.
We rushed through the hotel lobby, heading outside. I didn’t regret cutting my dance club experience short; that final dance with him hadmade it all worthwhile, and nothing could ever top that. Once we stepped out in the cool evening breeze, he wrapped me in his arms again for a smoldering kiss.
“Come with me tonight,” he said, looking at me as if he were about to lose me forever. “I have a suite at the Cosmopolitan.”
I pulled away and pressed my lips together to stifle a sigh. “I can’t, Winston.” The sadness in my voice wasn’t an act. “What am I to you?” I asked, looking at him through a blur of tears. “You’re married! Someone’s waiting for you to come home, and you’re here with me. We talked about this.”
He looked away for a moment, but then met my eyes with that persuasive obstinance I was learning to recognize. “We’re separated, my wife and I, almost—”
“Almost?” I asked, cutting him off bitterly. “I won’t be a home-wrecker, Winston. Just your friend. Perhaps.” I stroked his face with slightly trembling fingers, saying goodbye without words. “Thank you for a wonderful time tonight.”
