Page 60 of The Hotel Room

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James drove the hammer into the insulation, again and again, until his arm burned.

Good. Let it burn.

The sting wasn’t enough. He deserved worse.

The work was punishing—his knuckles scraped raw, his muscles trembling from the relentless pace—but it wasn’t close to the ache clawing through his chest.

Penance. That was what this was.

Every slam of the hammer. Every bead of sweat rolling down his back.

It would never be enough.

And yet, he kept going.

The insulation was nearly done. Thick, expensive panels—he’d researched meticulously, making sure they would keep her warm in winter and cool in summer.

Because all he could think about was her comfort.Kate’s comfort.

The woman he’d betrayed.

The woman he had watched cradle her stomach at the ultrasound just days ago, protective, distant, her face so carefully guarded it made his chest feel like it might cave in.

James squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his palm to the unfinished wood.

He remembered the look on her facethat night.

The night he’d destroyed everything.

The memory burned, sharp and nauseating.

Not of the woman he’d slept with. He couldn’t even picture her face anymore. She was just a nameless, faceless memory. A stranger’s perfume. The mindless, empty pull of skin against skin.

No, the memory that haunted him wasn’t her. It wasKate.

The way she had looked when she’d stepped out of the hotel bathroom that night, wrapped in that stunning black lingerie.

He could see her so clearly.

The soft curve of her body.God, she had been breathtaking.

And he’d ruined it.

She had been there, vulnerable, wanting him, trusting him—

And all he could think now was how he had destroyed that trust for nothing.

Nothing.

Less than nothing. It had been the worst sex of his life. How could he have thought he would have enjoyed something so empty when all he had ever known was making love with his soulmate?

James’s throat tightened as he set the hammer down, the ache cutting deeper than the strain in his body.

This shed—this studio—wasn’t about fixing that night. Nothing could do that. But he could give her something.

The insulation was perfect now. Secure. Thick enough to protect her from the cold.

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