The club was loud, packed with bodies moving to the bass-heavy music, but the second you locked eyes with him, everything else faded into the background.

Jensen Ackles.

He didn’t belong here—older, effortlessly confident, standing out among the restless crowd of twenty-somethings trying too hard. But you liked your men older. And the way he was looking at you? Like he already knew how this night would end? You were hooked.

It started with shameless stares. Then drinks. Then his hand grazing your waist, his lips brushing too close to your ear when he spoke. The tension simmered, building with every passing moment, until finally, his body was on top of yours, pinning you to his bed, making you feel things no one else ever had.

Hours later, the sound of the shower hummed from the bathroom as you slipped out of bed, skin still buzzing. You padded over to his dresser, searching for something to wear, and that’s when you saw it.

A framed wedding photo, hidden beneath a few folded shirts.

Your stomach twisted.

The water shut off. The bathroom door creaked open, and Jensen stepped out, running a towel through his damp hair. When he noticed what you were holding, his face hardened...