Spoiled by my Ex's Uncle 5

The nightclub’s music thumped through my body, but all I could focus on was the haze in my head. How did I end up here? Oh, right—Matt. His lies, his excuses, all his fake promises. “Working for his uncle” or “expanding his business”? Yeah, sure. He was probably with her. Just the thought made me throw back another drink, trying to drown out the anger.

Was he with her now? Laughing, touching her? My chest tightened. I needed to stop thinking about him.

I had thought that Matt would be the one. He seemed so gentel and kind, but I guess that wasn’t the case. After this, I felt like never falling in love again.

Gracie grabbed my hand and pulled me to the dance floor. “Come on!” she shouted over the music. I followed her, letting the beat take over. For a moment, I could forget. The crowd, the rhythm—it all blurred together, and I felt like myself again.

After a while, I left the dance floor, the drinks catching up to me. On my way back, I crashed into someone—hard. My ankle twisted, and I stumbled. Before I could hit the floor, strong arms caught me, holding me upright.

“Whoa, careful,” a deep voice said.

I looked up, my vision swimming. “Sorry,” I mumbled, trying to step away, but my legs felt shaky.

“You okay?” he asked, steadying me. His hands were warm, firm, and I couldn’t focus on anything but how solid he felt.

“I’m fine,” I lied, even as the room tilted.

He reached forward and brushed a bit of hair out of my face. “You don't look so good.”

I barely registered his words. For the first time tonight, my thoughts weren’t on Matt—or her. It was on him, this stranger holding me up like I wasn’t a mess.

“I don’t care, As someone who's just been betrayed by her boyfriend, it certainly doesn't look good.” I forced a smile, though I wasn’t sure if I was talking to him or myself.

He smiled and called the bartender. “I’m sure the renowned Vodka has at least one mocktail to your taste.” 

"Wait, "I wanted to protest, but he was already turning to the bartender and ordering with confidence. He pulled me to sit at the bar naturally.

“Do you treat all the girls like this?” I asked suddenly, surprised and embarrassed at my own question. It must have been the alchohol.

He stiffened, “You bumped into me first. A lot of women do that to get my attention. I'm used to women's passion. ” His voice was sharp, but not unkind.

I frowned. This egomaniac! I didn't even mean to hit him. I sized him up again and realized that he had a mature charisma, a very powerful aura. I am sure he was an older man, but I wasn’t sure how much older.

I have to say, he was very attractive, and it was the first time I'd met a man more attractive than Matt.

My mind was in a mess and I really wanted to go crazy tonight. I needed comfort.

“Then don’t ruin it,” I said, barely aware of my own words and pressed my lips to his.

He was much taller than me, and muscular to boot. This close, I could smell his cologne scent.

He suddenly kissed me deeply, holding me steady. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, though I clearly wasn’t.

"“I just… need a little comfort,” I said.

“Are you sure? Do you know who am I?” he asked. His tongue exploring my mouth in a way that Matt never did before.

But I clung to him, desperation bubbling up. “Please, I don't care” I whispered, meeting his gaze. “I just need to forget.”

For a moment, he hesitated, torn. Then he leaned closer, his voice low. “This isn’t a good idea.”

With a resigned sigh, he pulled me closer, his warmth chasing away everything else—the pain, the doubt, the anger. For once, I didn’t want to think. I just wanted to feel.