Vivienne looked radiant that evening, her dress hugging her curves perfectly, elegant yet subtle. Grayson couldn't take his eyes off her, stealing glances when she wasn't looking, heart hammering in his chest.
"You look… amazing," he muttered as they left the apartment. She smiled, cheeks warming.
The date went smoothly — laughter, light conversation, funny childhood stories, and moments neither had shared with anyone else. A little wine loosened their tongues, and for the first time, they were actually getting to know each other.
But underneath the laughter, Grayson's longing simmered. Every brush of her hand, every accidental touch, made his desire impossible to ignore. He wanted her badly yet he tried to stay careful, teasing, controlling the tension between them.
Back at the apartment, the door clicked shut behind them. The warmth, the closeness, the shared smiles had brought them dangerously near. Grayson moved closer, lips brushing near her ear, whispering her name softly. Vivienne's heart raced.
His hands found hers, fingers tracing lightly, possessively. She tried to pull back, soft protest in her eyes. "Grayson… we shouldn't—"
He leaned in, pressing gently, a heated whisper on her lips. She felt the pull, the magnetic force between them, and tried to resist, trembling. But just as she thought she might give in, she heard him murmur — low, possessive, and intoxicating:
"My wife…"
Her eyes widened. The words struck like lightning. She gasped, shoved him lightly, and ran upstairs, heart pounding, cheeks burning, leaving him behind in the quiet apartment.
Grayson stood still for a moment, chest heaving, eyes dark with longing and frustration. He had wanted her so badly… and now she was gone.