The steam was still thick in the bathroom. It hadn't cleared yet. It floated through the air like a soft veil. It clung to everything. Warm. Heavy. Close. The room felt smaller because of it. More private. More intimate.
Jenny stood just outside the bathroom. She could still feel the heat on her skin. Her hair was slightly damp near the temples. Her pulse hadn't settled. Not since he passed by her.
James had walked past without a word. He didn't touch her. He didn't even glance at her. But she felt it. The air had moved with him. His scent had wrapped around her. Clean soap. Fresh water. And something else. Something deeper. Something entirely him.
The scent brushed her face like a soft hand. It was barely there. But it was enough. Her breath hitched. Her heart skipped once, then again.
He wore only a white towel. It hung low on his hips. It swayed as he walked. It looked loose. Like it could fall at any moment. That idea made something inside her tighten.
He moved into the main room. His back faced her. Broad. Strong. Silent. The lighting was soft, just enough to cast shadows. His body cut through the light like a sculpture. Controlled. Quiet. Unbothered.
Jenny's eyes followed him for a long moment. Then she pulled her gaze away.
She looked around. The suite was elegant, high-end. Thick carpet. Soft colors. Everything designed to be comfortable. But not too warm. It was luxury with restraint. The kind that whispered rather than shouted.
Behind her, the bathroom door remained open. Steam drifted into the room. In front of her, a dark gray sofa sat against the wall. It was low, simple, and expensive. The kind of furniture that held secrets. She imagined how many lovers had sat there. How many moments like this one had happened in its presence.
To the right, a bedroom door hung half open. Just a crack. Just enough to tease. She could see a sliver of bedpost. A corner of white sheet. The rest was shadow.
She had changed in a suite just like this earlier. Same layout. Same walls. But this one felt different. It felt charged. The air was no longer neutral. It was alive. Heavy with tension.
She walked over to the sofa. Her steps were quiet. Her feet barely made a sound on the carpet. Her fingers brushed the armrest. It felt cool. Textured. She sat down slowly.
The cushions pushed up gently beneath her. They held her body like a secret. Her back settled into the curve. She inhaled. Exhaled. Tried to calm herself. But her pulse kept fluttering.
Then came a sound.
It was soft. From the bedroom.
The door hadn't shut completely. Just enough space for sound to travel.
She heard a dull thud. The towel had dropped. Her breath caught. That sound was nothing, really. But to her, it was everything. Her mind filled in the picture. James. Naked. Just feet away. Just behind that door.
Her mouth went dry.
Then came another sound. Cloth. Brushing skin. Slow. Unhurried. She imagined it. Each motion. Each breath. Him dressing. Piece by piece. Like a scene unfolding behind a curtain.
She couldn't help it. She looked at the door.
Through the crack, she saw a glimpse. His back. Tanned skin. Smooth muscle. He moved. Bent slightly. Then rose. His trousers were on now. Black. Slim. Perfect fit. They shaped every part of him with brutal precision.
Jenny bit her bottom lip. Hard.
He picked up his shirt next. White. Crisp. She watched as he lifted it. The fabric floated, then landed against his chest. He slipped one arm in. Then the other. She imagined the shirt sliding over his skin. She imagined her hands doing the same.
Her breath deepened. But she stayed still.
He raised his arms to fix the collar. His silhouette shifted. Strong lines. Clean movements. The door creaked slightly under the weight of the moment. Like the room itself was holding back a sigh.
Jenny stood.
She walked toward the bedroom. Her pace was slow. Deliberate. Each step pulled her forward like a tide. Her bare feet sank into the carpet. Soft. Quiet. But inside her, everything roared.
She reached the door.
She placed her fingers against the edge. The wood was cool. Smooth.
She pushed.
The door opened with a soft sound. A hush.
James stood at the mirror.
His shirt was still unbuttoned. His chest bare. His skin glowed under the light. Bronze. Firm. Carved. His posture was calm. Unshaken. He looked like he belonged there. As if this moment had always been coming.
Then he looked up.
Their eyes met in the reflection.
He didn't flinch. He didn't speak.
Jenny didn't drop her gaze. She didn't smile wide. Just a small curl of her lips. The kind that said, I'm not here by accident.
She stepped into the room.
The air between them thickened. With each step, the world outside faded. She stopped in front of him. Close, but not touching.
She looked at the shirt.
Then she reached up.
Her fingers brushed the first button. Light. Gentle. One by one, she fastened them. Each movement slow. Each brush of skin deliberate. Her voice came quiet.
"You're taking forever. Let me. Can't have people staring."
She said it like she did this every day. Like it was normal.
But it wasn't.
With each button, her fingers moved down his chest. His skin was warm. His heartbeat strong. She felt it. Heard it. Matched her own.
James didn't move.
He watched her. Silent. Still. But something had shifted in his eyes. They had darkened. Deepened.
She finished the last button. Her fingers didn't fall away. She smoothed the fabric. Traced the line of his chest. Then his collarbone. She stepped even closer.
Her hands moved lower.
She tucked in the shirt. Her fingers brushed the waistband. Skin. Heat. She buttoned the trousers. Zipped them up. The sound was quiet. Sharp.
Next came the belt.
She picked it up. Slid it through the loops. Her hands worked slowly. Her body was close enough to feel his breath. His chest rose and fell against her.
No words. Just silence.
She reached for the tie.
She stepped closer. He lowered his head slightly. Gave her space. Trusted her.
She looped the tie around his neck. Her fingers moved easily. Quickly. Fold. Pull. Tighten.
Their breath mixed now. Hers was quick. His was deeper.
She finished the knot. Tugged it into place.
James still didn't speak.
But his eyes held fire now. Not just watching. Consuming. She saw what he saw. Her control. Her calm. The edge beneath it.
She didn't move.
She didn't smile.
She didn't need to.
The silence said everything.
And neither of them looked away.
Jenny stood there, her fingers brushing the curve of his waistband.One breath.One inch.One choice away.
James didn't wake.
But something in him shifted. Responded. Welcomed her.
She should've walked away.But instead—
She stayed.
And the line between want and wrong began to blur.