His attractive allure left me feeling hazy. He waved his friends away, watched them depart, and sat beside me.
Despite my intoxication, I thought he was just one of the bar’s charming models trying to catch my eye.
With a stranger, I no longer felt the need to hold back.
Overcome with emotion, I began to cry my heart out.
Taken aback, he hurriedly reached out to brush away my tears.
“You’ve had too much to drink,” he said gently.
I shoved his hand away and collapsed into his arms, insisting stubbornly, “I’m not drunk! I’m perfectly sober! I know you’re a model, so how much to come with me? Will ten thousand do it?”
In my haze, I writhed against him, beating his chest with frustrated, unsteady fists. Above me, I could hear him gulping with unease.
With a fleeing hesitation, in the end, he scooped me up and carried me out.
The next morning arrived, and I woke up from my deep slumber only to find myself in his arms in an intimate embrace.
Before I could process anything, a familiar face came into view.
Spencer Smith, the new permanent hire at our company, graduated from a prestigious university.
Seeing his face surprised me, and my heart skipped a beat. Cold sweat instantly coated my forehead.