She stopped in front of the red-painted door at the end of the hallway, her breath catching as the music thumped softly from somewhere inside, slow, bass-heavy, intimate enough to feel like a heartbeat pressed against the wall.
She wasn't supposed to be here.
But curiosity was a sin she'd always been willing to commit.
Her fingers hovered over the brass doorknob. She told herself she'd just take a peek. Just see what kind of place someone painted a hotel door this shade of temptation-red. Then she'd leave.
But the door opened before she touched it.
A man filled the frame, tall, broad chest bare under an undone velvet robe, a faint sheen of water still clinging to his skin as though he'd stepped out of a shower moments ago. His dark eyes dipped instantly to her lips, then back up again, slow and sure.
"You're early," he said.
"I… I think you have the wrong person," she managed, even though her body hummed at the sight of him.
"Maybe," he replied, voice low, smooth, teasing, "but you're here. And you knocked."
"I didn't"
"You wanted to." He stepped aside, inviting without force. "Come in for a moment. If you don't like what you see, you can leave."
She shouldn't.
She knew she shouldn't.
But her feet made the decision before her mind did.
The room was dim, lit only by one amber lamp near the bed. Steam drifted from the bathroom, carrying the scent of cedar and skin-warmth. Her pulse tripped over itself.
"Is this some kind of… club room?" she asked.
He chuckled softly. "No. Just my room. Though I suppose you can call it anything you want."
She turned to him, intending to say something firm, something logical, but the look he gave her stole every sensible word.
His fingers lifted to her cheek, brushing a strand of hair away. "You look like someone who hasn't been touched the way she deserves in a very long time."
Her breath left her in a shaky exhale.
"I didn't come here for this," she whispered.
"Then why are you trembling?" His thumb traced the edge of her jaw, slow, deliberate. "Tell me to back away."
She didn't.
She couldn't.
He stepped closer, body heat sinking into her skin through the thin fabric of her dress. His hand slipped to the back of her neck, drawing her in gently, giving her every chance to pull away.
She didn't move.
The first kiss was barely a kiss, a soft, forbidden graze of lips that made her knees weaken. The second was deeper, his mouth claiming hers with an intensity that made her clutch his robe for balance.
He tasted like warm night, like quiet sin.
When he pressed her slowly against the red door, she gasped, not from surprise, but from how right it felt.
"Say stop," he murmured against her mouth.
She pulled him closer instead.
His hands moved to her hips, guiding her into the heat of his body. Her breath hitched as he kissed her harder, deeper, the robe falling open as he pressed her fully into him. Her fingers explored the lines of his shoulders, the warmth of his damp skin, the pulse beating fast beneath her touch.
"Who are you?" she breathed.
His lips brushed her ear. "Someone you'll forget by morning. Or someone you'll think about for the rest of your life."
Her head fell back as his mouth trailed along her throat, slow enough to feel every warm exhale. Her body arched into his, desperate, electric.
"I shouldn't be here," she whispered, even as her hands wandered lower.
"Then break the rules," he murmured, lifting her leg gently against his hip. "You came to the right door for that."
The red door thudded softly behind them as he kissed her again, deeper, hotter, pulling her into a moment she'd never meant to find… but couldn't bring herself to leave.
His hands slid to her waist, steady and certain, lifting her just enough that her breath caught in her throat. She felt the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of her dress, felt the quiet hunger in the way his fingers pressed into her hips, not forceful, but intentional. A question waiting for an answer her body was already giving.
Her hands moved without permission, fingers gliding up his chest, tracing the lingering droplets of water that hadn't fully dried. The heat of his skin beneath her touch made her shiver despite the warmth of the room. He noticed she felt the way his breath hitched, the subtle tightening of his grip as though her reaction fed something inside him.
"You feel that too," he murmured, lowering his forehead to hers.
She didn't deny it. Couldn't.
He brushed his thumb slowly along her lower lip, the gesture softer than the kiss they'd just shared. "You walk around like you don't want anyone touching you," he whispered, "but you melt the second someone finally does."
Her pulse stuttered. She hated how accurate it felt, hated and craved it in the same breath.
"Maybe," she admitted quietly, "I'm just tired of pretending I don't want things."
He smiled, not with arrogance but with understanding. "Then let yourself want something tonight."
His lips found her neck again, slower this time, tracing a path that made her toes curl inside her shoes. She arched into him instinctively, fingers slipping into the open edges of his robe, pulling him closer until every inch between them disappeared. His breath warmed her collarbone, trailing lower before rising again to meet her mouth in another slow, consuming kiss.
The room felt smaller with each heartbeat, the world narrowing to nothing but the space between their bodies. The rain outside tapped softly against the window, a quiet reminder that the rest of the city kept moving, unaware that she'd stepped out of her life and into a moment she didn't want to question.
He guided her gently away from the door, walking her backward until the soft edge of the bed brushed the back of her legs. She gasped, not from surprise but from anticipation, the kind that hummed low and warm through every part of her.
"If you step back," he said softly, lifting her chin with two fingers, "I'll take it as a yes."
Her breath shook.
For a second, she saw herself from the outside, a woman in a red dress, standing in a stranger's dimly lit room, heart pounding with the thrill of a choice she had no intention of taking back.
She stepped back.
His eyes darkened in a way that made her entire body react. He followed her down as she lowered onto the bed, his hands braced beside her shoulders, the warmth of him sinking into her skin before he even touched her again.
"You're sure?" he whispered, giving her one last chance, one she didn't want.
She slid her fingers into his hair, pulling him down until their lips hovered a breath apart.
Her voice was a whisper against his mouth.
"Don't stop."
The last of his restraint broke in the soft sound he made before kissing her deeply, fully. Their bodies met in a slow, aching collision, not rushed, not careless, but deliberate, like two people choosing the very thing they knew they shouldn't want.
The red door stayed closed, guarding their secret, holding in the heat, the breathless laughter, the soft, unsteady gasps that filled the room as the night deepened around them.
And for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel guilty.
She felt alive.