A Bitter Kiss

TESSA

Was it just me, or was popping the question in a club packed with sweaty, drunken bodies the least romantic thing imaginable? Personally, I couldn't think of anything worse. While the rest of the bar stopped whatever they were doing and crowded around the dance floor to witness a life-altering proposal between two total strangers, I remained glued to my barstool, slowly swirling the melting ice in my glass. The music blasted through the heavy speakers, the bass vibrating straight up my spine.

"YES! YES! I’ll marry you!" the girl screeched, her voice cutting through the thumping music.

I groaned under my breath. The sheer volume of the club was giving me a pounding headache. I lifted the glass and downed the rest of my drink. The cheap alcohol burned a harsh trail down my throat, but I welcomed the distraction. It was only my second drink of the night, yet I already felt a dull haze trying to settle over my thoughts.

I signaled the bartender for a refill. As he turned away, my gaze drifted down to my left hand. Resting on my ring finger was a heavy gold band, glittering mockingly under the harsh pink and blue neon lights. It felt like a lead weight, dragging me backward into the agonizing memories of this afternoon.

Just a few hours ago, I had been happy. I had spent the morning in my kitchen, baking fresh raspberry cookies for Mason, wanting to surprise him at his art studio. I remember the weight of the warm container in my hands as I walked down the street, imagining his smile.

Instead, when I pushed open his studio door, my world shattered.

Mason wasn't painting. He was sitting in his velvet armchair, his pants pushed down to his knees. Kneeling on the floor between his thighs was Lola. I would recognize that bright, electric blue hair anywhere. She was holding his erect dick in her hand, her lips wrapped tightly around the head of his shaft. She was sucking him, sliding her mouth up and down his hard dick with wet, enthusiastic strokes. Mason's eyes were closed, his fingers tangled in her blue hair, his hips lifting slightly to meet her mouth.

The container of cookies slipped from my fingers, crashing onto the wooden floor. The plastic lid popped open, and the warm cookies scattered into the dust.

Mason’s eyes snapped open. He gasped, trying to pull away from Lola's mouth, but the image was already burned into my brain. The sight of his wet dick slipping from her lips, the sheer betrayal of it all, made my stomach turn.

My throat tightened, a physical ache blooming in my chest as I sat at the bar. The universe really had a cruel sense of humor, putting a marriage proposal right in front of me on the worst day of my life.

Suddenly, a heavy shadow fell over my shoulder, and a deep, masculine voice spoke.

"Such a beautiful couple," he said.

The tone was rich and smooth, cutting through the alcohol-induced fog. I looked up, and my breath hitched in my throat.

He was stunning. With thick chestnut brown hair, warm brown eyes, and a razor-sharp jawline, he looked like he had walked straight off the pages of a high-end fashion magazine. He wore a black fitted shirt that clung to a lean, muscular chest. I stared at him, momentarily speechless.

Amusement flickered in his eyes, and I realized I had been gaping. I quickly looked back toward the dance floor. "Yeah," I muttered.

The universe had a brilliant way of rubbing salt into fresh wounds. My eyes wandered back to the gold band on my finger.

"Well, that’s new," the handsome stranger said, sliding onto the empty stool right next to mine.

"What's new?" I asked.

"A woman looking so lost in her own thoughts while sitting in my presence," he replied, ordering a whiskey.

I let out an amused chuckle. "Wow. You're a very humble man."

The corner of his lips tugged upward in a playful half-smirk. A dangerous wave of heat rushed through me.

"Speaking from experience, Love," he said smoothly.

I believed him. A man with those looks would never have to worry about getting a woman's attention.

"You have something heavy on your mind," he noted, turning to face me. "I can see the gears turning."

"Why should I discuss my private matters with a stranger?"

He let out a low chuckle. "Vaughn. If you wanted my name, you just had to ask, Gorgeous."

Hearing him call me "Gorgeous" sent a thrill straight to my stomach. I blamed it on the rich scent of his cologne—a mix of cedar and musk. We fell into a brief silence, the ambient noise of the club filling the gap. I didn't want him to leave me to my pathetic pity party.

Before I could stop myself, the words slipped out. "My fiancé cheated on me. My ex-fiancé."

Vaughn paused, taking a slow sip of his whiskey. His dark, assessing eyes locked onto mine, studying my expression with an intensity that made me feel exposed.

"And let me guess," he said. "You didn't confront him, and now you plan to drown your heartbreak in cheap liquor."

My eyes widened. "Do you have me all figured out, then?"

I tried to keep my posture relaxed, refusing to shrink under his intense gaze.

"That ring," Vaughn said, pointing toward my left hand. "You still have it wrapped around your finger. That means you haven't reached the point where you can throw it in his face and tell him to fuck off. You’re trying to escape reality. You're scared that the moment you take it off, the situation is going to feel final. It's going to make it real."

A faint, knowing smile touched his lips. His words hit so close to home that it felt like a physical blow. He had stripped away all my defenses in seconds.

To hide how vulnerable I felt, I swallowed my fear and leaned closer into his space. "For some absurd reason, I find you incredibly hot."

Vaughn’s eyes instantly dropped to my mouth. He bit his lower lip. "Should I be offended by your honesty?"

He leaned in closer, bringing his face mere inches from mine. The warm scent of whiskey on his breath brushed my skin. His lips hovered agonizingly close, close enough that I could feel their heat, but he didn't make contact. The lingering anticipation was maddening.

Unable to bear the delay, I gripped the fabric of his shirt. "Kiss me already."

Vaughn let out a soft chuckle before capturing my mouth with his.

The moment his lips met mine, every bitter thought of Mason’s betrayal, Lola's blue hair, and the disaster at the art studio vanished. The kiss was deep, warm, and addictive, consuming my entire being. His lips were firm yet soft, parting mine easily to deepen the kiss. I wound my fingers into his thick, chestnut hair, pulling him closer as the heat between us flared. For a moment, the crowded club and my broken heart didn't exist. There was only Vaughn.

We kissed passionately, our breaths mingling, until the sheer intensity of it forced us to break apart before our actions became too inappropriate for a crowded public venue. We were both breathing heavily. Vaughn reached up, his fingers warm against my skin as he gently tucked a loose curl behind my ear. His eyes were dark with desire.

"Let’s take this somewhere a little more private, yes?" he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine. "Your place or mine?"

I paused for a split second, considering the options. "Yours."

Keeping my apartment address a secret felt like a small, necessary shield of safety. I was leaving a club with a man I had met only minutes ago. If by some terrible chance he turned out to be a serial killer, at least he wouldn't know where I lived. And if he wasn't, and I managed to survive the night, I could easily go back to my apartment tomorrow to wallow in self-pity in private.

Vaughn stood up and offered me his hand. I took it, letting him wrap his fingers around mine and pull me to my feet. He guided me through the crowd, his hand resting protectively on the small of my back.

As we walked past the bouncer, I realized something. "Wait. We didn't pay for our drinks."

"He'll charge it to my tab," Vaughn replied smoothly, not even slowing his pace.

The cold night air hit my face as we stepped out of the club. Outside, parked right at the curb, was a sleek, black Aston Martin. Vaughn walked me to the passenger side and opened the door.

Sending a silent prayer upward, I slid into the leather seat. I was ready to let go of my past, even if only for a night.