Page 11 of The Hotel Room

Kate smoothed her hands down the sides of the flimsy lace she wore, anticipation coiling tighter with every second. He was going to besoexcited when he saw her like this. His eyes would darken, he’d cross the room without a word, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her…

He was going toravishher.

But then—another voice.

Kate’s fingers froze on the door handle.

Oh damn, James must be with work colleagues.

Her first thought was complete bone-numbing relief that she wasn’t sprawled seductively on the bed in the center of the room like she’d originally planned. She held both hands over her mouth the muffle the bark of laughter. That would have been terrible. She hadn’t considered for a moment that James might not be coming back to his room alone.

She really hoped nobody needed to use the bathroom.

Because, she as she now fully appreciated, she was hiding. Practically naked. And the rest of her clothes were still in the bedroom.

There wasn’t even a towel, let alone a hotel robe in here. Just cold tile, a mirror that felt far too large, and the sickening realization that she was trapped.

It was like one of those anxiety dreams come to life, the kind where you show up without clothes and can’t find anything to cover yourself. But this wasn’t a dream.

She started to sweat.

Soft voices filtered through the door.

She strained to listen, willing whoever it was James had invited in, to leave. A shuffle of footsteps. A deeper murmur. A feminine laugh.

Room service? A colleague?

Kate pressed her palm against her chest, feeling the uneven hammer of her heartbeat.Breathe. Wait it out.

She pressed her ear to the bathroom door. She couldn’t hear the words clearly—just soft, high tones. Female. Unmistakably. The logical side of her brain whispered reassurance, but something uneasy coiled beneath it.

But then the sound changed.

A low moan. And another.

Kate's breath caught.

No. No, no, no.

The air felt too hot, her skin prickling with shame and disbelief.

She knew what James sounded like when he…when…she shut her eyes against the sharp pain. She was plastered against the door, her ear pushed so hard against the wood that the stud of her earring bit into her neck.

This was the real nightmare.

He’s having sex.

Her husband. With someone else.Right there.

And she wastrapped.

She’d dressed up for him. Spent nearly an hour carefully choosing this lingerie, putting on makeup she barely wore anymore, fussing with her hair.

She felt ridiculous. Foolish.

Standing here in nothing but lace, whilesome other woman—

Her stomach twisted.

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