Page 3 of The Hotel Room

Kate exhaled against his mouth, pressing her body closer for a heartbeat before reality nudged its way back in.

“The risotto,” she whispered, reluctantly breaking the kiss.

James groaned playfully, his hand sliding down her hip before releasing her. “Fine. But I’m holding you to tonight.”

Heat curled through her, but she bit back a smile, turning back to the stove. “You better.”

James moved around the kitchen, rolling his sleeves up as he grabbed plates from the cabinet. This—the ease of it—felt good. Felt right. The quiet rhythm they’d built over years.

“Noah leave his history project at home?” James asked, loading the plates next to her.

“No, surprisingly. Though he was glued to his phone the whole morning.”

James chuckled, leaning against the counter. “Pretty sure Emily owns his brain now.”

Kate rolled her eyes with a fond smile. “Remember when we were like that? Couldn’t go a second without thinking about each other?”

His grin turned lazy, head tilting as he studied her. “We’re still like that.”

Her smile softened, warmth blooming in her chest. “Yeah…we are, aren’t we?”

They ate together at the small kitchen table, talking about the kids, plans for the weekend, and the latest from Lily’s dodgeball drama. The weight in James’s expression lightened gradually, the tension in his shoulders easing as the meal went on.

Afterward, as she loaded the dishwasher, Kate felt his presence behind her before he touched her. His hands slid to her hips, warm and certain.

“Come upstairs with me,” he whispered, his breath warm against her neck.

Kate closed her eyes, leaning back into his chest. The ache from the morning—that strange, hollow feeling—wasn’t there anymore. She loved her family and her role in it. Real and steady and still so good.

“Let me finish this,” she whispered, pressing back against him with a teasing sway.

James made a low sound, his grip tightening just enough. “You’re killing me.”

She laughed softly. “You’ll survive. Five minutes.”

“Three.” His lips brushed the spot just below her ear, and heat coiled low in her stomach.

He pulled back with a groan, leaving her flustered as she finished the dishes.

By the time she shut off the lights and padded upstairs, the bedroom door was already half-closed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. James was waiting, leaning backagainst the headboard, his dress shirt gone, the top button of his slacks undone.

Kate paused in the doorway, heart thudding a little harder. Eighteen years. Two kids. And still, the way he looked at her, the heat in his eyes, stole her breath.

She slipped the robe from her shoulders, letting it pool on the floor. Underneath, her tank top clung to her in all the right ways, and the soft cotton shorts bared just enough to make his gaze darken.

“Come here,” James said, voice rough with want.

And she did.

CHAPTER TWO

James

The bar was dimly lit, all polished wood and golden lamplight, the quiet hum of conversation blending with the low clink of glasses. It wasn’t the kind of place James would choose—on the rare occasions he went out these days, it was to family restaurants. But this was Nick’s kind of place.

James sat across from his oldest friend, swirling his untouched bourbon as Nick leaned back in his chair, already halfway through his second glass. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows, shirt open just enough to look casual, exuding the kind of ease James never quite figured out.

Nick was mid-story, something half-laughing and half-boasting.

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