The Affair

Chapter 23

Kendra knew exactly where to go. She led Mark down the street to a small, dimly lit Mexican bar tucked between two larger buildings. The neon sign buzzed softly overhead, casting a warm glow on the sidewalk as they stepped inside. The place had an old-world charm, with dark wooden beams, colorful string lights, and the lingering scent of tequila and citrus. A live band played soft Spanish guitar in the corner, and the hum of conversation blended with the music, creating a lively yet intimate atmosphere.

They approached the bar, and the bartender, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, greeted them in Spanish. Mark hesitated, the words foreign on his tongue, but before he could attempt to respond, Kendra giggled and answered effortlessly. Her voice was smooth, confident, and natural as she spoke, her Spanish flowing like honey.

Mark felt his stomach flip. There was something about the way she spoke the language—how easily it rolled off her tongue, how her lips moved, how she lit up as she talked—that made his throat dry. It was hypnotizing.

Kendra sighed, resting her elbows on the bar. “My dad used to speak Spanish all the time. It drove my mom crazy because she didn’t understand him. When he got me speaking it fluently by the time I was six, she finally decided to learn enough to keep up with us.” Her voice was nostalgic, a hint of sadness creeping into her words.

Mark smiled, admiring the way her face softened when she talked about her father. “Sounds like he was a good man.”

Kendra nodded, then turned to the bartender. “Dos tequilas, por favor.”

The bartender nodded, setting down two glasses and pouring them each a generous shot. Kendra wasted no time, lifting hers and looking at Mark with a challenging smirk. “Think you can keep up, old man?”

Mark chuckled, shaking his head. “I can handle my liquor just fine, kid.”

They clinked their glasses together, and Mark downed the shot, wincing only slightly at the burn. Kendra, on the other hand, took hers like a pro, licking the salt from the rim with a flick of her tongue before sucking on the lime. Mark caught himself staring at her lips, the way they wrapped around the fruit, and immediately looked away, clearing his throat.

They sat at the bar, throwing back drinks, sharing stories, and laughing in a way that felt too easy, too natural. Kendra leaned in as Mark told a story about his past relationships, laughing when he mentioned dating a Latina woman years ago who turned out to be completely unhinged.

“She keyed my car, burned my favorite leather jacket, and threw my watch into a lake,” he admitted, shaking his head.

Kendra threw her head back, laughing. “Oh yeah, we’re definitely crazy.”

Mark grinned, his eyes lingering on her as she calmed down. Somewhere between the shots and laughter, Kendra had shifted closer—her knee now brushed against his leg, her arm barely touching his.

Then, as if drawn by some magnetic force, she moved even closer. Mark could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin. Her fingers lightly traced the rim of her empty glass, but her attention was entirely on him.

“Kendra…” Mark’s voice was barely above a whisper.

She smirked, tilting her head slightly. “Hmm?”

He shouldn’t be this close to her. He knew that. But when she leaned in, her lips a breath away from his, he couldn’t help but mirror the movement. His pulse roared in his ears, his body betraying every ounce of restraint he had left.

Her lips barely grazed his, and for a split second, Mark swore he forgot how to breathe.

Then, with everything in him, he pulled back—just enough to break the spell.

“Kendra,” he rasped, his voice thick with something unspoken.

Her smirk faltered, replaced by something vulnerable. “I’m sorry.”

She started to pull away, embarrassment washing over her features, but Mark gently reached for her hand, stopping her.

“No, Kendra,” he said, his jaw tight. “Trust me, there’s nothing I want more in this world.” His thumb brushed against the back of her hand, lingering for a second too long before he forced himself to let go. “But… we can’t.”

He wanted to say it—wanted to remind her that she was his fiancée’s daughter, that this was wrong on so many levels. But the words wouldn’t come.

Kendra nodded, biting her lip as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I know.”

But as they sat there in silence, both acutely aware of what had almost happened, Mark realized the truth.

This wasn’t going away.

Mark was going to speak up when his phone pinged—Rebecca.

He took a deep breath, glancing down at the screen before shoving the phone back into his pocket. “Come on, let’s go,” he said, his voice rougher than intended.

Kendra nodded, her playful smirk fading as she straightened up. Mark threw some cash onto the bar before leading her toward the exit. They stepped out into the cool night air, the streetlights casting a soft glow over the quiet sidewalk.

Just as Kendra was about to turn away, Mark instinctively reached out, his fingers curling gently around her arm. She looked up at him, her dark eyes searching his face. Without thinking, without giving himself the chance to stop, Mark pulled her in.

It wasn’t just any hug. It was slow, deliberate—an unspoken confession. His arms wrapped around her, one hand splayed against her lower back, the other gripping her shoulder. Kendra melted into him, her body pressed against his, her breath warm against his collarbone.

For a moment, they stood like that, tangled in something neither of them had the courage to name.

Then, just as Mark was about to pull away, he felt it. A ghost of a touch—Kendra’s lips brushing against his neck, soft, barely there a soft kiss. A shudder ran down his spine, his fingers digging into her waist on reflex.

She didn’t pull away immediately, letting her lips linger for a second longer before finally stepping back. Mark swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Kendra met his eyes, and in the dim glow of the streetlights, there was no teasing, no smirk—just something raw and dangerous between them.

Without a word, they turned and walked toward the car.

Rebecca and Ethan were already inside, waiting. Mark opened the back door for Kendra, watching as she slid in without so much as a glance in his direction. He took a steadying breath before getting into the front passenger seat.

The car ride home was silent.

Rebecca was focused on the road, unaware of the tension suffocating the air inside the vehicle. Ethan had his headphones in, playing something on his phone, oblivious.

But Mark could feel Kendra’s presence behind him, could still feel the phantom press of her lips against his skin.

He stared out the window, jaw tight.

This was getting dangerous.

When they pulled into the driveway, Kendra wasted no time getting out of the car. She muttered a quick “Goodnight” before disappearing inside, her heels clicking against the hardwood as she made her way upstairs.

Mark exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face before stepping out of the car. Rebecca shut the engine off and stretched, yawning. “Well, that was an eventful night,” she said, smiling softly. “I think Kendra just needs time. She was really close to her dad, you know?”

Mark forced a nod. “Yeah,” he muttered, distracted.

Rebecca stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You’re good with her,” she murmured against his chest. “I know she can be stubborn, but she’ll come around. She just needs to know we’re here for her.”

Mark swallowed, the weight of guilt pressing hard against his ribs. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling anymore, but he knew it wasn’t what Rebecca thought.

He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Yeah. I’ll be up in a minute,” he told her.

Rebecca smiled, squeezing his hand before heading inside.

Mark stood there for a moment, staring at the darkened sky, trying to clear his head. He replayed the night in his mind—the way Kendra had looked at him, the way she had pressed against him, the way his body had betrayed him in those fleeting moments.

With a deep breath, he finally went inside.

Upstairs, Kendra stood in front of her mirror, slowly pulling off her earrings. She caught her own reflection and scoffed at herself.

What the hell was she doing?

She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. The way Mark had held her outside the bar… the way his hands had lingered just a second too long… it wasn’t in her head. He felt it too.

But what did that even mean?

Shaking her head, she changed into a tank top and shorts, climbing into bed. She needed sleep.

Down the hall, Mark stood outside his own bedroom door, his hand hovering over the handle. Inside, Rebecca was waiting for him, probably already half-asleep.

But his mind wasn’t in that room.

It was two doors down, behind a locked door, where a girl who wasn’t his to want was lying awake, thinking of him just the same.