"Kissing," Rebecca Sanders slurred, "is when two people's tongues… really get to know each other."
She had clearly had too much to drink—her words were loose, uninhibited, and without the slightest filter.Her gaze landed on Ethan, who sat frozen in place, caught between disbelief and the dizzy haze of alcohol.
Rebecca reached for his hand, her grip warm but unsteady."You've got that clueless look, Ethan," she teased softly. "C'mon… sit on your aunt's lap. Auntie's gonna teach you how to kiss the right way."
Ethan's mind felt like it was drifting through a dream.The whiskey she'd ordered was the kind of burn-your-throat, knock-you-flat brand meant for seasoned drinkers, not someone who barely touched alcohol.
A few minutes ago, she had snatched the glass from his hand and taken a deep sip herself, then pressed it to his lips and made him finish it. Now, even he was feeling lightheaded.
Rebecca tugged him up from his seat and led him to the plush leather booth she'd claimed in the far corner of the bar.The place was dim, with a low bass thrum from the speakers and just enough shadows to make them invisible to most patrons.
Once he was seated on her lap, Rebecca smiled in that tipsy, warm way and whispered,"Ethan, Auntie's gonna teach you…"
And then, she kissed him.
It wasn't a quick peck—it was slow, deep, and filled with a kind of longing that made his heart pound. Her arms wrapped around him like she was holding onto something precious she'd been missing for far too long.
Since losing her husband years ago, Rebecca had kept her loneliness buried under layers of strength and confidence. But tonight, something inside her cracked open.
Two people, twenty-two years apart, locked together in a kiss that made Ethan's head spin. His breath caught, but he didn't pull away—part of him was too stunned, part of him… didn't want to.
When they finally parted, Rebecca wiped the corner of her mouth and reached for the bottle again."Drink," she urged.
They traded glasses for a while, her pace outmatching his easily. As the owner of several small businesses, Rebecca was no stranger to late nights and drinking with clients. But even she couldn't down whiskey like this without it hitting hard.
"These damn men," she muttered bitterly. "Always looking at me like I'm some kind of prize. Wanting to get me drunk so they can 'close the deal.'" She snorted. "Beasts. Every one of them."
Her voice softened for a moment. "It's better with someone like you. Simple. Not all twisted up with hidden motives."
Ethan said nothing, just listening. He was starting to understand just how much weight Rebecca carried every day. Being a tall, striking, forty-two-year-old woman in business—there were plenty of people who wanted something from her.
"Ethan, you remember what I taught you?" she asked with a sly smile."When you get yourself a girlfriend, you better put that to good use."
Before he could respond, she tipped another glass to his mouth.
By the time they stumbled to the counter to pay, Ethan's head was swimming. The cashier gave him a look—a mix of curiosity and disbelief.
Outside, the cold air hit them. Rebecca's balance gave out and she sank to the ground.
"Aunt Rebecca!" Ethan knelt, startled. She wasn't light—at six feet tall with a curvy, pear-shaped figure, she was at least one-forty, maybe more. Not heavy by any means for her height, but carrying her wasn't like picking up a petite girl.
Still, he managed to get her to her feet, draping her arm over his shoulders."Let's get you to a hotel. You can't stay out here."
She murmured something incoherent but didn't resist.
They found a budget hotel just down the block. The front desk clerk barely looked up.
"One room?""Yeah," Ethan said."King or two queens?""Uh… two queens.""That's $200 plus a $200 deposit. Card or cash?"
Ethan paid, took the keycard, and shifted Rebecca higher against his side—she was already half-asleep.
"Aunt Rebecca… we're almost there," he murmured, though his own voice was slurred.
The elevator ride to the third floor felt endless. When the doors opened, she was fully asleep, and he had no choice but to lift her onto his back.
Carrying a six-foot-tall woman in heels down a hotel hallway wasn't easy—but the soft brush of her stocking-clad legs against his hands sent strange jolts through him, pushing him to keep going.
Finally, he made it inside the room, set her gently on the bed, locked the door, and turned on the air conditioner. He collapsed onto the second bed with a groan, every muscle tired.
His mind wandered.Will the system refresh the intel at midnight?Even drunk, he couldn't shake the thought—his future depended on it.
He turned his head toward her. Her skin was unbelievably pale under the warm hotel light—paler even than Olivia's. In fact, Olivia hadn't inherited much of her mother's beauty at all.
Those sheer stockings, the perfect fit of her Valentino heels, the curves that defied her age… she was a vision.
Then, Rebecca shifted.
In an instant, she rolled toward him, pinning him down.
Her lips—warm, soft, and tasting faintly of whiskey—pressed to his. The kiss deepened, growing almost frantic.
"Husband…" she whispered against his mouth.
The word hit him like a shock. She wasn't seeing him—she was seeing her late husband. In her mind, he wasn't Ethan at all.
Part of him wanted to stop, to say something… but the alcohol had stripped away most of his restraint.
And so, the last of his clarity slipped away into the heat of the moment.