Sinful, Secrets, Seduction And Snowflakes.

It shouldn’t have happened, but it did. What? You wouldn’t blame me? After the day I had, I think you’d understand. Or maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe you’d sit there, judging me like everyone else, thinking you’d handle it better. But trust me—you wouldn’t. The truth was, I’d just found out that my boyfriend, the man I thought I’d spend forever with, had been screwing his secretary. His damn secretary. And I found out in the worst way possible— walking into his office with plans to surprise him with lunch, only to get the shock of my life instead. So here I was, sitting at the bar, drowning in whiskey and misery, hoping to forget his stupid, smug face and her fake high pitched giggle. And of course, the moans I had heard from her. “One more shot of whiskey, please,” I said, my voice raspier than usual as I pushed my empty glass toward the bartender. The man looked at me—older, kind eyes, a worn-out patience. He hesitated, the whiskey bottle just out of reach. “Ma’am, I’m afraid you’ve had enough. I’m going to have to stop serving you.” I scowled, narrowing my eyes at me. “What does that mean? I’m here with my money, aren’t I?” My words slurred slightly, but I didn’t care. He sighed, shaking his head like he’d done this a thousand times. “Still, the safety and well-being of everyone here matters to me—especially that of a beautiful young lady like you.” “Oh, cut the flattery,” I muttered, rolling my eyes to the roof. “I mean it,” he continued, ignoring my sarcasm. “Listen, I’ll call you an Uber, and they’ll take you home safe and sound. How does that sound?” I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes. “I don’t need your help, sir,” I snapped, clicking my fingers at him There were three of him in front of me, but I couldn't care less— it didn't matter. “What I need is more whiskey so I can drown in my problems. Can you handle that?” He gave me a pitying look, and I hated it. I didn’t want pity. I wanted oblivion. “You seem feisty,” came a deep, smooth voice from behind me. I froze. The world around me coming to a halt. It wasn’t loud, but it carried a deep tone to it that demanded attention. I turned slowly, my heart skipping a beat as I faced him. The stranger leaned casually against the bar, one hand resting on the counter. He was tall, easily over six feet, with broad shoulders that filled out his leather jacket perfectly. His hair—- dark blonde was lightly messy, falling over his face, like he’d just run his fingers through it, and his gray eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made me feel exposed. I squinted my eyes, noticing a faint scar cut through his left eyebrow, giving him a rugged, dangerous look. “And you are?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest, trying to seem unaffected. He smirked, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. “Just someone who hates seeing a pretty woman drink alone.” I rolled my eyes, even though butterflies fluttered in my stomach at his words. “If this is some lame attempt at flirting, you’ll have to try harder.” “Who says I’m flirting?” he shot back, his voice teasing. “Maybe I’m just concerned about your well-being.” “Concerned?” I arched an eyebrow. “Do I look like I need a knight in shining armor?” “No,” he said, his gaze dipping briefly to my lips. “You look like you can handle yourself just fine. But even warriors need a break sometimes.” I blinked, caught off guard by his words. He wasn’t wrong. I felt like I’d been fighting all damn day—against heartbreak, humiliation, and now my own self-pity and horniness. “What do you want?” I asked, slumping my shoulders. I could feel every emotion now— emptiness, broken, happy, and damn, the wave of s****l desire. And his gray eyes did nothing to help me. He shrugged, his smirk resting casually on his lips like it was meant to be there. “Maybe I just want to distract you from whatever put that fire in your eyes.” “And what makes you think you can distract me?” “I think there’s another piece of information you’d love to know more about,” he said, leaning in slightly, his voice—- it had a bit of Russian to it, dropping to a low murmur. “Oh?” I tilted my head, my breath hitching as his face came closer. “And what’s that?” His answer wasn’t words. It was action. Before I could process what was happening, his lips crashed into mine. The kiss was nothing like I’d expected—if I’d expected anything at all. It was raw, urgent, and consuming. A tangy mix of alcohol and mint flooded my senses, and I didn’t push him away. I couldn’t. Maybe it was the need for revenge— to release the anger, but I felt a strange, magnetic pull— it rooted me to the spot, my fingers instinctively curling into the fabric of his jacket. I could feel my pants dampen, heat surged through my body chasing away the cold sting of heartbreak, replacing it with something far more dangerous. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer to him, and a low growl rumbled in his throat as the kiss deepened. My mind screamed at me to stop, to think, but my body ignored every warning. This isn’t you, a small voice whispered in the back of my mind. You don’t do this. You don’t kiss strangers in bars. But tonight, I didn’t care who I was supposed to be. Tonight, I wanted to forget. The kiss broke, but only for a second. His gray eyes, darkened with desire, locked onto mine. “Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice hoarse. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but no words came. Instead, I grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him back to me. He didn’t hesitate. His hands slid down to my hips, pulling me closer as he kissed me again, harder this time. The world around us faded—the bar, the bartender, the noise, the neon lights, the music and the people. It was just him and me, the taste of whiskey and regret mixing into something I couldn’t name. “Your place or mine?” he murmured against my mouth, his breath hot against my skin. “Yours,” I whispered, the word barely audible. I couldn’t go back to my place, not with the ghost of him still lingering there. He grinned, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Good choice.” The next thing I knew, we were outside, the cool night air hitting my flushed skin. He flagged down a cab, pulling me close as if daring me to change my mind. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. As we climbed into the backseat, his hand found mine, his fingers curling around mine in a way that felt oddly reassuring. In my hazy state, my eyes landed on something in his car. It was a passport— Mikhail Volkov Volkov Why does that name ring a bell? For a moment, I wondered if I’d regret this in the morning. But as he leaned in to kiss me again, all thoughts of regret vanished. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But tonight, nothing was supposed to. And yet, here I was, letting myself get swept away by a stranger with storm-gray eyes and a dangerous smile. For one night, I wanted to be reckless. For one night, I wanted to forget. Whatever happened next, I’d deal with it tomorrow