Chapitre 3: A Brief Respite

Ella's POV:

"Rough night?"

The man asked, his voice was smooth, warm, a stark contrast to the coldness I had felt for hours.

I let out a bitter laugh, the sound foreign to my own ears. "You could say that." I lifted my glass in a mock toast before taking another sip, my gaze not leaving his.

He smiled, a small, understanding smile that somehow made my heartache a little less suffocating. "You want to talk about it?"

I stared at him, debating whether to spill my heart to a stranger. But the alcohol had loosened my tongue, and before I knew it, I was speaking. "Five years," I began, the words tumbling out of me in a rush. "Three years I spent loving someone, building a life with them, only to find out tonight that it was all a lie. He…he cheated on me. And then he threw me out like I was nothing."

The man's expression hardened, a flash of anger in his eyes. "He sounds like an idiot."

I smiled at that, a small, sad smile, and nodded. "Yeah, he is."

There was a moment of silence between us, the music and chatter of the club filling the space. Then, he spoke again, his voice low, almost a whisper. "You deserve better."

The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard, and I looked at him, really looked at him. There was something about him, something that made me feel…safe. It was a ridiculous thought, considering I had just met him, but in that moment, with my world falling apart, I clung to it.

"Maybe," I replied, my voice just as soft.

His gaze held mine, and for the first time that night, I felt a spark of something other than pain. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there. "Come with me," he said, and his words were more of an invitation than a command.

I hesitated, my mind still foggy, my heart still raw. But the alcohol, the loneliness, the need to feel anything other than despair, it all conspired against me, pushing me toward him. "Where?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"There's a hotel nearby," he said, his eyes never leaving mine. "Let's get out of here. You don't need to be alone tonight."

Something in his tone, in the way he looked at me, made me want to trust him, to let him take away the pain, even if only for a little while. The rational part of me screamed that this was a bad idea, that I was only setting myself up for more heartache, but I ignored it. I was too far gone to care.

"Okay," I found myself saying, the word slipping from my lips before I could stop it.

He held out his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, I took it. His grip was firm, reassuring, and he led me out of the club, away from the noise and the memories. The night air hit me like a slap, cool and sobering, but I didn't let go of his hand.

We walked in silence, the hotel only a short distance away. My mind was a whirl of conflicting emotions, the alcohol still muddling my thoughts, but one thing was clear, I needed this. I needed to forget, to lose myself in something, someone, other than the pain.

When we reached the hotel, he checked us in quickly, and before I knew it, we were in the elevator, heading up to the room. The tension between us was almost touchable, the air thick with unspoken words, unfulfilled desires. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, a mix of nerves and anticipation swirling in my stomach.

The elevator dinged, and we stepped out, making our way down the hall to the room. He opened the door, gesturing for me to enter first. I hesitated at the threshold, a moment of clarity piercing through the haze. But then I looked at him, at the way he was watching me with those intense eyes, and all doubts melted away.

I stepped inside, and he followed, closing the door behind us. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting shadows on the walls. My heart raced as he moved closer, his presence overwhelming, intoxicating.

Before I could say anything, before I could second-guess myself, he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. The world fell away, leaving only the sensation of his lips on mine, the taste of whiskey and something uniquely him. I kissed him back, the desperation, the need to forget, driving me.

He deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down to my waist, pulling me closer. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the raw desire in his touch. My mind was spinning, my heart pounding, but I didn't care. All I cared about was the way he made me feel, alive, wanted, needed.

We stumbled toward the bed, our hands fumbling with each other's clothes. I barely registered the soft thud of my dress hitting the floor, his shirt following suit. All I could focus on was him, on the way his hands roamed my body, igniting a fire in me I hadn't felt in a long time.

He pushed me onto the bed, and I went willingly, my body aching for his touch. He hovered over me, his gaze dark and hungry, before lowering his head to trail kisses along my neck, my collarbone. I moaned, the sound escaping me before I could stop it, and he smiled against my skin, clearly pleased with my reaction.

His lips found their way to my breasts, his hands kneading the soft flesh as he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking, biting gently. The sensation was almost too much, a mix of pleasure and pain that had me arching off the bed, a gasp escaping my lips. His other hand teased my other nipple, twisting and pinching it in time with his mouth, driving me wild.

I could barely think, barely breathe, as he continued his assault on my senses. I was lost in the moment, in the pleasure he was giving me, in the way he was making me forget. For the first time that night, the pain, the heartbreak, the betrayal, all of it faded into the background, leaving only the raw, unfiltered need.

"Please," I whispered, my voice breathy and desperate.