Peyton's POV

The man who held me, even in the dim light and the alcoholic daze, one would know that he was handsome. His strong hands gripped my arms, steadying me as I wavered on my feet. His jacket brushed against my skin, and I tried to focus on his face but couldn't quite make out his features.

"I'm... okay," I slurred, attempting to stand upright.

"What's a girl in a wedding dress doing here?" His voice was rich and deep, carrying a hint of amusement.

I frowned, looking down at myself. "I'm not in a wedding dress."

He cocked an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "You are definitely in one."

"I'm not," I insisted, trying to sound serious despite the ridiculousness of the situation. "I'm just... uh... really into lace and satin."

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Well, you're definitely rocking the 'runaway bride' look. Although, I have to say, you're the most beautiful bride I've ever seen."

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the flutter in my chest. "You're just saying that because you're trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me."

He held up his hands, mock-innocently. "I swear, I'm a gentleman. I'll even buy you a drink to prove it."

I raised an eyebrow, "What makes you think I need a drink?"

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because, sweetheart, you look like you've had one hell of a day. And I'm happy to help you forget it."

My cheeks burned as I stared into his eyes, my heart skipping a beat. I quickly decided to change the conversation. "Oh. Right. Well, it's not a wedding dress anymore." I said moving a bit far away from him.

He chuckled. "Okay, Miss - Not- in - a - Wedding Dress."

I couldn't help but smile at his teasing. He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle. "Mind if I invite you to a VIP room since you don't want me to buy you a drink?"

"Isn't that where the bad things happen?"

He laughed again, a genuine, hearty sound. "You are innocent, aren't you?"

I looked away, "I guess I am shy when tipsy."

"I noticed you," he said, his voice softer now. "And you only had one shot."

I blinked, surprised he had been watching me. "Just one?"

"Yep," he confirmed. "Just one. You're quite the lightweight.”

"You interest me," I said

“Glad I was able to.”

"Take me to the VIP room," I said, trying to sound confident.

He raised an eyebrow. "And?"

I leaned in, my eyes locked on his. "If you touch me, you die. If you drug me, you die."

He chuckled, a low, husky sound. "You've watched too many movies."

Before I could react, he wrapped his fingers around my wrist, his grip warm and firm. I tried to pull away, but he held tight, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Let's go," he said, pulling me towards the VIP room.

I stumbled after him, my heart racing with anticipation and fear. What had I just gotten myself into?

As we entered the VIP room, the music and laughter from the main bar faded away, replaced by a soft, pulsing glow. The air was thick with the scent of leather and smoke, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

He pulled me closer, his breath whispering against my ear. "Relax," he whispered. "I promise I won't bite... hard."

I tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin that sent shivers down my spine. It felt good. I was taking risks I never thought I would be able to take.

He signaled to the bartender, who promptly brought over two drinks. I eyed the glasses warily, "Is it... drugged?" I asked, my voice barely audible over the thumping music.

He laughed, a deep, rich sound, husky, "Of course not. I'd never do that to you."

I took a tentative sip, the liquid cool and soothing. He watched me with a knowing smile, his eyes never leaving my face.

His hand rested on my exposed thigh, his thumb drawing lazy circles that sent warmth flooding through me. I found myself leaning into him, drawn by the magnetism of his presence.

"When I first saw you, walking into the club, I gotta say, you're beautiful," he murmured, his lips brushing against my neck.

I shivered, the sensation electrifying. "Thank you," I whispered, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.

His lips trailed down to my shoulder, his touch light and teasing. "You deserve to be treated well," he said, his voice low and husky.

I closed my eyes, letting the moment envelop me. His hand slid up my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Every touch, every whisper, made me feel alive in a way I hadn't felt in a long time.

"What's your name?" I asked, my voice trembling.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto mine. "Let's keep that a mystery," he replied, his lips curving into a smile. "And you?"

"Let's keep that a mystery too," I answered, matching his smile with mine.

He leaned in closer, his lips grazing my ear. "Mystery Girl, MG" he repeated, his voice sending shivers down my spine. "I like it."

He tilted my chin up, his eyes searching mine. The world around us seemed to disappear as he slowly closed the distance between us. His lips met mine in a gentle, exploratory kiss, and I melted into him, the taste of him intoxicating. It was my first kiss. My first touch from the opposite sex.

The kiss deepened, his hands roaming over my back, pulling me closer. I felt a surge of desire, my body responding to his every touch. His lips left mine, trailing down my neck, pressing soft kisses that made me gasp.

I moaned, my hands clutching at his shirt.

He pulled me onto his lap, his hands guiding my hips. "Relax," he whispered again, his breath hot against my skin. "Let me take care of you."

I nodded, lost in the moment. His hands slid under my dress, caressing my thighs, his touch sending waves of pleasure that made me throw my head back. I arched into him, craving more, wanting to forget everything but this moment.

He stood, lifting me effortlessly, and carried me towards a private room. The door closed behind us, muffling the sounds of the club. He laid me gently on the bed, his eyes dark with desire.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice tender.

I nodded, my breath coming in quick gasps. "Yes," I whispered, reaching for him.

He smiled, “Good girl.”

****

Five months later

I stood in front of the club which was now being renovated. I clutched the paper I was holding, my fingers trembling. It was a pregnancy report. That night had felt like a daze, unreal after waking up and not seeing him. But no, it wasn't. Because if it was, I would not be four months pregnant.

It was midnight, and I had given up coming here every day hoping to see him. I hoped tonight I would, before I finally left town. I wished I could see him and let him know that I still kept him in mind. Let him know of the babies that now grew in my stomach.

I waited and waited but as usual, there was no one. It was false hope. He wouldn't be here, not when it was filled with scaffolds and the club was close. The city noises faded into the background as my focus narrowed to the club's entrance. I scanned every shadow, every passing figure, hoping to see that broad back, those familiar eyes.

But as the evening wore on, my hope disappeared. I clutched the ring he had left on the nightstand, with the initials L.F. engraved inside. My heart ached with a longing.

As the night deepened, I realized I would never see him again. Tears filled up in my eyes, but I blinked them away. I had to be strong, for myself and for my babies. With a heavy heart, I turned away from the club, the ring pressed tightly in my hand.

I took one last look at the place where our paths had crossed, where a fleeting moment had changed my life forever. Then, I walked away, never looking back.