A Different Kind of Escape [POV: Nate]
“He’s mine.”
My head snapped up, the words jolting through me like a bolt of electricity. Even through the haze, I knew exactly who it was.
Hannah.
The woman I’d spent weeks patching up, stitching back together with my own two hands as she lay broken in a hospital bed. The woman who’d stared into my eyes with tears streaming down her face and begged me to let her die.
And now?
Now she stood before me like a goddess, bold and unshaken, wrapped in a skin-tight dress that clung to her curves like it was painted on.
The fabric hugged every dip and swell of her body, the deep crimson hue making her skin glow like she was lit from within. Her auburn wig cascaded over her shoulders in loose waves, framing her face like a masterpiece. She exuded a confidence that was almost hypnotic, like she owned the damn room and everyone in it.
The dancer hesitated for a split second, her mouth opening like she was about to protest, but one look from Hannah had her stepping back without another word.
“Of course, Hannah,” she muttered, her voice clipped, before disappearing into the crowd like a rat scurrying from a predator.
I didn’t have time to process what had just happened before Hannah’s hand shot out, her fingers wrapping around my wrist with a grip that was firm enough to pull me back to the present. She didn’t say a word, just dragged me away from the bar with a determination that left no room for argument.
I stumbled after her, my head spinning as I tried to piece together what the hell was happening. The world around me was a blur of colors and sounds, but all I could focus on was the heat of her hand on my wrist and the way her hips swayed as she led me through the crowd.
“Hannah,” I muttered, my voice thick and heavy, the alcohol weighing down my tongue.
She didn’t respond, not until we reached the dimly lit private room at the back of the club. She shoved me inside with a force that made me stagger, then slammed the door shut behind us, the sound echoing in the small space.
Only then did she turn to face me, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes sharp enough to cut through every drunken thought in my head.
“What the hell are you doing here, Dr. Wood?”
I let out a low chuckle, leaning against the couch and rubbing my jaw as I tried to steady myself. “Just trying to have a good time.”
She scoffed, her lips curling into a smirk as she took a step closer. “Didn’t take you for this kind of guy.”
I arched a brow, my eyes dragging over her in a way that made my throat dry. “And what kind of guy is that?”
“The kind who sits in a bar, lets a woman climb onto his lap, and looks like he wants to disappear.”
She wasn’t wrong. I should’ve laughed. I should’ve thrown back some kind of cocky retort, but I didn’t. Instead, I just stared at her, my eyes roaming over every inch of her body—the way her dress hugged her curves, the way her lips were painted a deep red that made my mouth water, the way her confidence seemed to radiate from her like a fucking force field.
Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy, the tension almost suffocating.
She sighed, rubbing a hand down her arm as if she was suddenly unsure of herself. “You’re a good guy, Nate.”
I let out a humorless chuckle, running a hand through my hair as I took a step closer to her. “Not tonight, I’m not.”
Before she could respond, I closed the distance between us, my hands grabbing her by the waist and pulling her flush against me. She let out a sharp gasp, her hands flattening against my chest, but she didn’t push me away.
I could feel her heartbeat hammering against mine, fast and frantic like she was just as on edge as I was.
“Tonight,” I murmured, my voice low and rough, “I don’t want to be good.”
Then I kissed her.
Her lips were soft and warm against mine, and for a moment she stiffened, as if she wasn’t sure if she should give in. But then she melted into me, her hands curling into the fabric of my shirt as she pulled me closer, her body pressing against mine in a way that made my head spin.
I backed her against the couch, my hands gripping her thighs and lifting her with ease. She let out a soft gasp as I set her down on the edge of the couch, but she didn’t hesitate to wrap her legs around my waist, pulling me down with her until I was pressed between her thighs.
Her scent overwhelmed me—vanilla and something dangerously sweet, something that reminded me of all the mistakes I wanted to make with her.
I kissed her harder, my tongue tangling with hers as I drank in every soft sound that escaped her lips. Her nails scraped against my scalp as she tilted her head back, giving me better access to the soft skin of her throat.
I didn’t waste it.
I trailed kisses down her jaw, then her neck, my teeth grazing over the sensitive skin of her collarbone until she let out a soft whimper.
My hands slid up her thighs, tracing the curve of her hips before gripping the hem of her dress and pulling it higher inch by inch, teasing along the bare skin beneath it.
She arched into me, her breath coming in ragged gasps as I exposed more and more of her body to my hungry gaze.
“Nate,” she whispered, her voice breathless and aching, like she was already falling apart in my hands.
Hearing my name on her lips sent a bolt of heat straight through me, and I captured her mouth again, swallowing her moan as I finally pulled her dress up and over her head, leaving her in nothing but a lace bra and panties that clung to her curves like they were made for her.
Her skin was soft and warm under my hands as I explored every inch of her, tracing the curve of her waist, the dip of her hips, the swell of her breasts. She let me touch her like I had every right to be there, like she wanted me to memorize every part of her.
I pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, searching for any hesitation, any flicker of doubt in those green eyes of hers.
But all I saw was hunger—raw and unrelenting—and it matched my own perfectly.
I kissed her again, slower this time, savoring the way she clung to me like I was the only thing keeping her grounded. My hands moved to the clasp of her bra, fumbling with it for a moment before it finally came undone and fell away, leaving her bare to my hungry gaze.
Her breasts were flawless—full and perky, with nipples that were already hard and begging for attention. I didn’t hesitate to give it to them, taking one into my mouth and swirling my tongue around the hardened peak until she let out a moan.
Her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as I moved to the other breast, giving it the same attention as I slid one hand down her stomach and into the waistband of her panties.
She was already wet for me—soaked—and I groaned at the feel of her slick folds against my fingers.
“God, Hannah,” I breathed against her skin as I slid a finger inside her, earning another moan from her lips.
I added a second finger, curling them just right to hit that spot that made her cry out and arch into me. Her legs tightened around my waist as I worked her with my fingers, my thumb circling her clit in slow, deliberate circles until she was trembling in my arms.
“Please,” she begged, her voice shaking with need as she clung to me. “Please, Nate.”
I didn’t need to be told twice.
I stood just long enough to strip out of my own clothes before kneeling between her legs and pulling down those soaked panties, tossing them aside before settling back between her thighs.
She was beautiful like this—spread out beneath me, her breasts heaving with every ragged breath, her skin flushed with desire—and I couldn’t wait any longer.
“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice rough with need but still laced with concern for her.
She nodded frantically, her hands grabbing at my shoulders to pull me closer. “Yes,” she breathed. “Please.”
