Between Sheets and Lies

**Between Sheets and Lies** The *Grand Hotel Excelsior*’s ballroom breathed the kind of luxury only old money or newfound success could afford. Crystal chandeliers spilled golden light over the guests, turning every movement into a spectacle of shadows and shimmer, as if even the air there were made of liquid gold. The murmur of conversations blended with the clink of champagne flutes, the soft strains of a string quartet playing something between classical and contemporary—music chosen not to offend the powerful, but also not to bore them. It was the kind of party where every detail was calculated to impress, from the arrangement of black orchids to the perfect room temperature, cool enough to keep bodies comfortable, but not so much that necklines would tremble. Laura adjusted her navy-blue silk dress, a shade that accentuated the contrast between her pale skin and her green eyes, nearly translucent under the artificial light. The fabric clung to her body like a second skin, slipping between her fingers when she moved, as if even the dress knew that tonight, she wasn’t just Ricardo Mendes’ wife. She was something more. Or perhaps something less. It depended on who was looking. —You look stunning— a voice said beside her, low and far too familiar. She didn’t need to turn to know who it was. His scent gave him away before he even finished speaking: a mix of sandalwood, aged leather, and something citrusy, like bergamot, that made her stomach clench in an involuntary memory. Daniel. —Thank you— she replied, turning slowly, as if every movement were rehearsed. —You don’t look so bad yourself. And he didn’t. Daniel had always had that kind of presence that made people stop and stare, even when he didn’t want to be noticed. Now, at thirty-eight, time had sculpted his face in a way that made him even more dangerous: the lines around his eyes more pronounced, his jaw more defined, the stubble giving him the air of a man who had just stepped out of an important meeting—or a bed that wasn’t his. The dark gray suit, tailored to perfection, draped flawlessly over his broad shoulders, and the loosened tie, as if he had undone the knot on purpose, suggested an intimacy Laura knew all too well. —How long has it been?— he asked, taking two champagne flutes from a passing tray. He handed one to her, his fingers brushing against hers a second longer than necessary. —Three years— Laura answered, bringing the glass to her lips. The icy liquid slid down her throat, leaving a trail of bubbles and warmth. —Or four. Depends on how you count. Daniel smiled, a slow smile, the kind that knew exactly how to count. And what to count. —I count from the last time I saw you naked. She nearly choked on her champagne. The comment was so direct, so *him*, that for a moment Laura wondered if anyone around had heard. But no, people continued their conversations, laughing, drinking, ignoring what was happening between them as if they were just two more guests exchanging pleasantries. —You haven’t changed— she murmured, but there was a teasing tone in her voice. —Oh, I have. Now I have more money and less patience for games. —And I have a husband. Daniel didn’t look away. His eyes, dark as strong coffee, locked onto hers with an intensity that made the air between them vibrate. —I know. I saw him over there, near the bar. Talking about investments with that bald guy.— He paused, as if savoring what came next. —You still wear your ring on the right finger? Laura looked at her own hand, at the platinum ring gleaming under the light. It was an automatic gesture, as if she needed to make sure it was still there. —Of course. —Too bad. She should have walked away. Should have made up some excuse—a friend to greet, a bathroom to visit, anything—and put distance between them. But she didn’t. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, as if studying the man before her, as if trying to decipher what lay behind that arrogant confidence. —Why did you come back?— she asked, her voice low, almost lost in the party’s hum. Daniel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out, as if to touch her face, but stopped halfway, his fingers hovering in the air between them. —Because I heard you’d be here. Laura’s heart beat faster. It wasn’t a declaration of love, nor a promise of reconciliation. It was something more dangerous: the realization that, even after years, even with marriages, careers, and entire lives built separately, they still recognized each other. Still desired each other. —That’s dangerous— she whispered. —I know. And then, as if the universe were conspiring in their favor, the music changed. A slow, melancholic waltz began to play, and Daniel tilted his head slightly, extending his hand in a silent invitation. —Dance with me? Laura should have said no. Should have looked around, searched for Ricardo, reminded herself of all the reasons why this was a bad idea. But the champagne had already done its work, and the heat of Daniel’s body, so close, was a temptation she couldn’t ignore. —Just one— she agreed, placing her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers, firm, possessive. And when he pulled her close, the familiar scent enveloped her, and Laura knew she was lost. Because, deep down, she had always known this reunion wouldn’t end with a dance. It would end with her back in his arms, exactly where she never should have left. The waltz wrapped around them like an ancient spell, one that doesn’t break with time, only sleeps, waiting for a touch to awaken. Laura and Daniel’s bodies moved in perfect sync, as if the years apart had never passed, as if each step were a memory etched into their skin. He guided her with one hand at the small of her back, his fingers lightly pressing against the thin fabric of her dress, while the other held hers with a firmness bordering on possession. Laura felt the heat of his palm through the satin, burning her skin, and the scent—oh, the scent—was the same as before: sandalwood and something darker, like aged leather, an aroma she had tried to forget in vain. —You still dance like the world’s about to end— Daniel murmured, his voice low and rough, his lips almost brushing her ear. Laura closed her eyes for a moment, letting the music wash over her, letting his closeness consume her. When she opened them, she found Daniel’s gaze fixed on her, intense, hungry. It was the same look from years ago, when he watched her as if she were the only woman in the room, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. —And you still talk like you know what I’m thinking— she replied, her voice soft but with an almost imperceptible tremor. He smiled, slow and dangerous. —I know what you’re thinking. Laura arched an eyebrow, defiant, but didn’t pull away. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to. —Oh, really? And what am I thinking, then? Daniel pulled her a little closer, enough for her to feel the hardness of his body against hers, enough for his hot breath to brush her lips when he spoke. —You’re thinking you should have avoided me. That you should have turned your back the moment you saw me. But you didn’t. Because deep down, you wanted this as much as I did. Laura felt her heart beat faster, her breath catching in her throat. He was right. She had tried to ignore his presence from the moment she saw him, elegant in his dark suit, the slight gray at his temples giving him a maturity that only made him more attractive. But the stolen glances, the disguised peeks, the times their fingers brushed accidentally when reaching for a champagne flute—all of it had been deliberate. She wanted to be caught. Wanted him to see her. Wanted him to desire her. —You’ve always been arrogant— she said, but there was no conviction in her words. —And you’ve always loved that. The music ended, but neither of them moved. They stood there, frozen in the middle of the dance floor, their bodies still pressed together, their gazes locked. Laura knew they were being watched. Knew Ricardo, her husband, was somewhere at that party, probably talking to some important client or laughing at a bad joke. But in that moment, he didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except the man in front of her and the electricity coursing through her skin whenever he touched her. Daniel tilted his head, his lips almost touching hers. —Let’s take a walk. It wasn’t a question. It was an invitation, an order, a promise. Laura hesitated for a second, but then nodded, almost imperceptibly. He let her go slowly, his fingers sliding over hers as if unwilling to part, and guided her off the dance floor. The ballroom was crowded, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfumes, alcohol, and whispered conversations. Laura felt the gazes on them—some curious, others envious, still others disapproving. But she didn’t care. She walked beside Daniel with her head held high, her high heels echoing on the marble floor, her dress fluttering slightly with each step. He led her between tables, past groups of people laughing and toasting, until they reached a side door that opened into a quieter hallway. The noise of the party faded as soon as the door closed behind them. The hallway was softly lit, the walls lined with dark wood, giving a sense of intimacy. Daniel didn’t stop. He kept walking, his steps firm, until they reached a glass-enclosed terrace overlooking the city, the buildings’ lights twinkling like fallen stars. Laura took a deep breath when he stopped, feeling the night’s cool air on her face. They were alone there, far from prying eyes, far from the rules. Daniel turned to her, his dark eyes reflecting the city lights. —You’re nervous— he observed, his voice low, almost a whisper. —No— she lied. He smiled, knowing she was lying. —Lying was never your strong suit, Laura. She crossed her arms, as if that could shield her from the effect he had on her. —And you’ve always been good at making me feel exposed. Daniel took a step forward, closing the distance between them. Laura didn’t retreat. He raised his hand, his fingers lightly brushing her arm, tracing a slow path to her shoulder, then to her neck, where they stopped, caressing the sensitive skin just below her ear. —You like feeling exposed— he murmured. —You like it when I look at you like I can see right through you. You like it when I touch you like you’re mine. Laura felt a shiver run down her spine. His words were dangerous, but she didn’t want them to stop. She wanted more. Needed more. —You don’t have that right— she said, but her voice came out weak, without conviction. —Don’t I?— Daniel tilted his head, his lips almost touching hers. —Then tell me to stop. Laura opened her mouth, but no words came out. He smiled, satisfied, and then their lips finally met. The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, as if both were remembering each other’s taste. But then Daniel pulled her closer, one hand on her waist, the other tangled in her hair, and the kiss deepened, became more urgent. Laura moaned softly against his mouth, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, as if she wanted to merge their bodies into one. When they parted, both were breathless. Daniel rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, as if trying to regain control. —You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this— he whispered. Laura also closed her eyes, feeling her heart race. She knew she should stop. Knew she was playing with fire. But desire was stronger than reason. —Daniel…— she began, but he cut her off with another kiss, this one shorter, more intense. —Don’t think— he murmured against her lips. —Just feel. And Laura obeyed. Because in that moment, there was nothing she wanted more than to lose herself in him. The terrace was a refuge of shadows and diffuse light, a forgotten corner of the ballroom where the music arrived muffled, like a distant echo. Laura felt the night’s cool air caress her skin, still warm from contact with Daniel, as he guided her away from curious eyes. The glass doors closed behind them with a soft click, and suddenly, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of them. She leaned against the marble railing, her fingers sliding over the cold surface as she caught her breath. Daniel stood a step away, watching her with that look she knew so well—intense, hungry, as if he could devour her right there. The breeze played with the loose strands of her hair, and he reached out to brush them from her face, his knuckles grazing her cheek in a deliberately slow touch. —You still smell the same— he murmured, leaning in to inhale her scent, a mix of jasmine and something sweeter, almost intoxicating. —As if time hadn’t passed. Laura closed her eyes for a moment, letting his voice envelop her. The sound was deep, rough, laden with memories she had tried to bury. When she opened them again, she found his lips inches from hers, so close she could feel the heat of his breath. —And you still talk like I’d believe every word— she replied, but there was no conviction in her voice. Just a tremor, a surrender disguised as defiance. Daniel smiled, one corner of his mouth lifting in a gesture she knew all too well. It was the smile he used when he knew he had already won. —You’ve always been terrible at lying to yourself. Before she could retort, he pulled her to him, one hand firm at the small of her back, the other tangled in her hair. The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was voracious, as if he were trying to reclaim years of absence in a single gesture. Laura clung to his shoulders, her fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket, while Daniel’s tongue explored her mouth with an urgency that made her moan softly. When they parted, both were breathless. Daniel rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, as if trying to regain control. But Laura didn’t want control. Not that night. —We shouldn’t be doing this— she whispered, more to herself than to him. —But we want to— he replied, his voice rough. —And that’s all that matters. She should have resisted. Should have remembered her husband, the ring on her finger, the promises she had made. But Daniel’s body against hers was an irresistible temptation, and the way he looked at her—as if she were the only woman in the world—was a sweet poison too hard to refuse. Daniel slid his hand along the curve of her waist, down to the hem of her dress, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin of her thigh. Laura shivered, a chill running down her spine, and he smiled against her lips. —You still like that— he murmured, his lips tracing a path of kisses down her neck as his hand slowly inched the dress upward. —Shut up— she moaned, but there was no anger in her voice. Just desire. He chuckled softly, his teeth grazing her skin in a gentle bite before returning to kiss her. Laura arched against him, her hands slipping under his jacket, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath the shirt. Daniel was stronger than she remembered, more confident, as if the years had shaped him into something even more dangerous. —I dreamed about this— he confessed, his voice rough against her ear. —About you, like this, surrendering. Laura closed her eyes, feeling the heat spread through her body. She had dreamed too. Many times. —Just for tonight— she whispered, as if trying to convince herself. —No consequences. Daniel didn’t answer with words. Instead, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again, slower this time, as if savoring every second. Laura lost herself in the touch, the taste, the sensation of being exactly where she shouldn’t be. His hands explored her body with a familiarity that made her shiver. He knew every curve, every sensitive spot, as if the years apart had erased nothing. When his fingers found the clasp of her dress, Laura didn’t protest. She only arched her back, allowing him to slide it off her shoulders, leaving her exposed to the night’s cool air. Daniel stepped back, his eyes roaming her body with an intensity that made her feel more naked than she was. Laura instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, but he gently took her wrists and pulled them away. —Don’t hide from me— he murmured. —Never hide. She obeyed, letting her arms fall to her sides. Daniel let out a low, almost reverent sigh before stepping closer again. His hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, while his lips found hers in a kiss that seemed to promise much more than words. —You’re beautiful— he whispered against her mouth. —More than I remembered. Laura didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Her body was already responding for her, arching against his, seeking more contact, more heat. Daniel lifted her slightly, sitting her on the marble railing, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. —Daniel…— she moaned, feeling the pressure of his body against hers. —Shhh— he murmured, his lips tracing a path of kisses down her neck to her collarbone. —Let me show you how I remember you. His hands slid down her thighs, moving up to the edge of her lingerie, his fingers playing with the elastic before pulling it aside. Laura held her breath as he touched her, a moan escaping her lips as he explored her body with a precision that left her on the edge of desperation. —You’re wet— he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction. —For me. Laura didn’t deny it. She couldn’t. Her body had already betrayed any attempt at resistance. —Just for tonight— she repeated, as if still trying to convince herself. Daniel smiled against her skin, his fingers continuing their slow, torturous work. —We’ll see— he whispered before capturing her in another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. Laura clung to him, her fingers tangled in Daniel’s hair, as the world around them disappeared. There was no more party, no more husband, no more past or future. There was only the now, the heat of their intertwined bodies, the promise of forbidden pleasure. When Daniel finally lifted her into his arms, carrying her away from the railing, Laura didn’t protest. She only nestled against him, her lips finding his in a kiss that sealed a silent agreement. The night was still young, and they had much to make up for. The elevator ascended in silence, its mirrored walls reflecting only fragments of what was to come. Laura felt the weight of Daniel’s body against hers, his hands already exploring beneath the fabric of her dress, his fingers deftly sliding along the curve of her thigh as his lips sought hers with a hunger that brooked no refusal. She gasped against his mouth, her high heels making her rise onto her toes to reach him better, her hips pressing against the evident bulge beneath the thin fabric of his trousers. The air in the compartment was thick, dense with the scent of sweat mixed with Daniel’s expensive cologne, a woody aroma that reminded her of past nights, of rumpled sheets and promises whispered at dawn. When the doors opened, Daniel pulled her out with a sharp, almost possessive motion, guiding her down the hallway with long strides. Laura stumbled once, her heels unsteady, but he caught her by the waist, his hand firm against the bare skin of her back, his fingers burning like embers. The room was just a few meters away, the door ajar like a silent invitation. He pushed her inside with a decisive gesture, and Laura barely had time to register the surroundings—luxurious, impersonal, with a king-size bed covered in Egyptian cotton sheets—before her back hit the wall. —You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this— Daniel murmured, his voice rough as his lips descended along her neck, nipping, sucking, leaving marks she knew she’d have to hide later. His hands moved up her dress, pulling the fabric upward until the lace of her panties was exposed. He didn’t waste time. A finger hooked into the elastic, pulling it aside with a quick motion, and then Laura felt the wet pressure of his fingers against her sex, sliding with deliberate slowness. —*Fuck*— she moaned, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her nails leaving crescent marks on his skin. Daniel chuckled low, a dark and satisfied sound, as his thumb found her clit, circling it with a pressure that made her arch her back, her hips moving on their own, seeking more. —That’s it— he whispered against her ear, his teeth grazing her earlobe. —Show me how you like it. Laura didn’t need encouragement. The years apart, the lonely nights, the accumulated frustration—all of it dissolved in an instant, replaced by a raw, animalistic need. She grabbed his hand, guiding him, quickening the pace, her moans escaping between clenched teeth. Daniel watched every reaction, every tremor, every bead of sweat trickling down her temple, his dark eyes gleaming with predatory satisfaction. —You’re mine— he said, his voice a growl as a finger slid inside her, then another, his movements firm, relentless. —Even if it’s just for today. Laura wanted to deny it, wanted to remind him—and herself—that this was just a slip, a stolen night. But the words died in her throat when his fingers found a spot that made her see stars, her entire body tensing, her inner muscles clenching around the invasion. She bit her lower lip hard, trying to stifle the cry that threatened to escape, but Daniel wouldn’t allow it. —No— he ordered, pulling his fingers out with a sharp motion that made her gasp. —I want to hear you. Before she could protest, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bed. Laura fell onto the soft mattress, her hair spreading like a dark halo against the white sheets, her dress still bunched at her waist. Daniel didn’t take his eyes off her as he undressed, his movements slow, almost theatrical, as if he knew every second of anticipation left her more desperate. The shirt came off first, revealing his defined chest, marked by a few old scars—memories of a life she no longer knew. Then the pants, and then he stood there, naked, his erection proudly jutting against his abdomen, his entire body tense with the control he imposed on himself. Laura swallowed hard. She had seen him like this before, but there was something different now—the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he wanted and wasn’t in a hurry to get it. He knelt on the bed, his hands moving up her legs, his fingers tracing lazy lines along the inside of her thighs, getting closer to her center but never quite touching it. Laura arched her back, trying to force contact, but he only chuckled, low and teasing. —Patience— he murmured, leaning in to kiss her knee, then her thigh, then closer, until his hot breath blew against her wet sex. —I want to taste you first. And then his tongue was there, hot and insistent, licking her in long, slow strokes, as if she were a sweet he intended to savor to the last drop. Laura gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles turning white, her hips moving involuntarily, seeking more pressure, more contact. Daniel held her in place with firm hands on her hips, keeping her still as his tongue explored every fold, every sensitive nerve, until she was trembling, her moans turning into incoherent pleas. —Daniel, *please*… He lifted his head, his lips glistening, his dark eyes fixed on hers. —Please what? Laura hesitated. She shouldn’t be there. Shouldn’t be doing this. But her body no longer answered to reason. Only to desire. —I want you inside me. The words came out in a hoarse whisper, but they were enough. Daniel rose, his body covering hers in a fluid motion, his erection pressing against her soaked entrance. He didn’t enter all at once. Instead, he slid back and forth, teasing, making her feel every inch of his sensitive skin, every pulse of desire. Laura dug her nails into his back, trying to pull him closer, but he resisted, his lips finding hers in a slow, deep kiss as his hips continued that torturous motion. —Say it again— he ordered, his voice a growl against her mouth. Laura didn’t need to ask what he wanted to hear. She knew. —I want you inside me— she repeated, her words broken, her entire body trembling with anticipation. This time, Daniel didn’t make her wait. With a firm motion, he entered her all at once, filling her completely, her body stretching to accommodate him. Laura moaned loudly, her fingers tangling in his hair, her hips rising to meet each thrust. Daniel wasn’t gentle. Not this time. His movements were fast, deep, each thrust drawing a new sound of pleasure from her, louder, more desperate each time. —That’s it— he grunted, his lips brushing her ear. —Come for me. And Laura obeyed. The orgasm hit her like a wave, her entire body clenching around him, her inner muscles tightening as she cried out his name, her nails leaving deep marks on Daniel’s back. He didn’t stop. He kept moving, prolonging her pleasure until she was limp, breathless, her eyes half-closed, her body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. But Daniel wasn’t done yet. With a quick motion, he flipped her onto her stomach, pulling her up until she was on all fours, her knees sinking into the mattress. Laura barely had time to recover before he entered her again, this time from behind, his hands firm on her hips, guiding her back into the relentless rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with Laura’s muffled moans and Daniel’s satisfied grunts. —You feel so good— he murmured, one hand sliding forward, his fingers finding her swollen clit. —So tight. So *mine*. Laura didn’t answer. She couldn’t. The words were lost in another moan as pleasure began to build again, more intense, more urgent. She felt Daniel nearing his limit, his movements becoming more erratic, his breathing heavier. And then, with one final thrust, he came inside her, his entire body tensing as a guttural sound escaped his throat. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of ragged breaths, of sweaty bodies moving in sync, trying to catch their breath. Laura felt Daniel’s weight on her, his lips brushing the nape of her neck, his arms wrapping around her in an embrace that felt more possessive than affectionate. —That was…— she began, but the words died in her throat. Daniel chuckled softly, kissing her shoulder. —Better than you remembered? Laura didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. They both knew the truth. He pulled out of her carefully, lying down beside her and pulling her close. Laura nestled against his chest, listening to his accelerated heartbeat, feeling the heat of his skin against hers. For a moment, she allowed herself to pretend this was real. That they were just two lovers, with no past, no future, no lies between them. But then Daniel’s phone vibrated on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a message. He reached out, picking it up without moving away from her, his fingers brushing Laura’s hip as he read. —Who is it?— she asked, her voice still hoarse. Daniel smiled, putting the phone back. —Nothing important. Laura knew he was lying. But at that moment, she didn’t care. Her body still vibrated with the echoes of pleasure, her mind fogged with exhaustion and satisfaction. She closed her eyes, letting herself be carried away by fatigue, by the heat, by the moment. Tomorrow, there would be time for regrets. Tomorrow, she would return to reality. But for now, there was only this. Only them. Only the night. The morning light filtered through the hotel room’s linen curtains, painting golden stripes over the rumpled sheets. Laura woke with a heavy body, as if every muscle held the memory of Daniel’s touches, of the hands that had roamed her with a nearly desperate urgency. The air still smelled of sex—sweat, masculine cologne, the faint citrus trace of the soap he had used in the shower before pulling her under the hot spray. She turned in bed, expecting to find him beside her, but the space was empty, the pillow still marked by his head, the sheet cold where his body should have been. A low noise came from the bathroom. The door was ajar, and through it, Laura saw Daniel standing by the sink, wearing only tailored trousers that hung low on his hips, the muscles of his back shifting as he ran the razor over his face. He caught her reflection in the mirror and smiled, a slow, satisfied gesture, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. Laura pulled the sheet up to her chest, suddenly aware of her own nudity, of the marks he had left—discreet hickeys on her collarbone, scratches on her thighs, the sensitive skin between her legs. —Good morning— he said, his voice still rough from sleep, or perhaps from something more. —Did you sleep well? She didn’t answer right away. She watched him rinse his face, his long fingers sliding over his freshly shaven jaw, and felt a shiver run down her spine. *How is it possible he still has this effect on me?* she thought, hating herself a little for it. Eight years had passed since the last time she had given herself to him like this, eight years of a marriage that, despite everything, was still a safe harbor. Or at least that was what she tried to convince herself. —I need to go— she murmured, finally, pulling the sheet away. The cool air of the room raised goosebumps on her skin, and she hurried to pick up the dress lying on the floor, crumpled like an unwanted memory. Daniel didn’t move. He just watched her, his dark eyes following every movement, as if memorizing the scene. —Sure?— He tilted his head, a lazy smile on his lips. —It’s still early. We could order breakfast in bed. Or…— He left the sentence hanging, his gaze deliberately dropping to the neckline of the dress she hadn’t yet put on. Laura felt her face flush. *Breakfast. As if that could erase what we did.* She shook her head, pulling the dress straps over her arms with more force than necessary. —Ricardo must be waiting for me. Her husband’s name hung between them like an invisible barrier. Daniel chuckled softly, a sound that held no humor, and turned back to the mirror, adjusting his tie with precise movements. —Of course. The exemplary husband. She didn’t answer. There was nothing to say. Instead, she slipped on her high heels and walked to the door, her steps hesitant, as if the floor were made of glass. Before she could turn the doorknob, though, she felt his hand on her wrist, firm but not violent. Daniel pulled her to him, and Laura didn’t resist—not really. He kissed her, a slow, deep kiss that tasted of mint and sin, and when he pulled away, his lips brushed her ear. —This isn’t over, Laura. She didn’t look back. She left the room with her heart pounding, her legs trembling, and only when the elevator doors closed behind her did she allow herself to take a deep breath. The hotel hallway was silent, just the distant hum of a vacuum cleaner and the clinking of dishes from the restaurant downstairs. Laura ran a hand through her hair, trying to tame the rebellious strands, and checked her reflection in the elevator mirror. *Looks normal*, she told herself. *No one will know.* But she knew. The room she shared with Ricardo was three doors down on the same floor. When she slid the key card into the lock, the mechanism clicked dryly, and she hesitated before turning the handle. *What if he’s awake? What if he notices?* But when she entered, the room was bathed in dim light, the heavy curtains blocking most of the morning sun. Ricardo slept on his side, his face turned toward the window, his breathing slow and steady. Laura closed the door quietly, holding her breath, as if the simple act of breathing could wake him. For a moment, she stood there, watching him. Ricardo was a handsome man, with serene features, the kind of beauty that didn’t demand immediate attention but revealed itself gradually—his brown eyes, always a little sleepy, his mouth that curved easily into a smile, his large hands, capable of fixing anything. Hands that, last night, had held hers while they danced, oblivious to the fact that, just a few meters away, she was giving herself to another man. Laura took off her shoes and tiptoed to the bathroom. The mirror above the sink reflected a woman she barely recognized—bright eyes, swollen lips, a bite mark on her left shoulder, hidden under the camisole strap. Laura touched the sensitive skin, remembering Daniel’s mouth there, his teeth sinking into her flesh as he pushed her against the hotel room wall. She turned on the shower, the hot water streaming over her body like invisible fingers. She closed her eyes, letting the steam envelop her, letting the memory invade her. The way he pulled her hair, his rough voice whispering things that made her tremble. *"You like it when I do this, don’t you?"* And she moaned, yes, she liked it. Too much. When she stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, her husband was already awake, sitting on the bed with the newspaper in his hands. —Good morning, love— he said, smiling. —Did you sleep well? Laura forced a smile. —Like an angel. He didn’t see the lie in her eyes. He never did. --- The week passed in a blur of meetings, lunches with friends, and family dinners. Laura kept herself busy, filling every second with obligations to avoid thinking about Daniel. But he was there, at the back of her mind, like a shadow that refused to fade. On Wednesday night, she found herself in front of her closet mirror, holding a tight black dress—the same one she had worn on their first date years ago. She ran her fingers over the fabric, remembering the feel of silk against her skin, the way Daniel had looked at her back then—as if she were the only woman in the world. Her phone vibrated. Another message. *"Tomorrow. Don’t disappoint me."* She took a deep breath, feeling her heart race. It was a trap. She knew it. Daniel wouldn’t let her escape easily. He wanted her to choose, to admit, to surrender again. And she wanted it too. --- On Thursday, Laura arrived at the hotel fifteen minutes early. The same place. The same elevator that had taken her to Daniel’s room the first time. The doors opened on the right floor, and she hesitated for a second before stepping out, her heels sinking into the thick carpet. Room 407 was in front of her. The door was ajar. Laura pushed it open with her fingertips, feeling the cool air conditioning against her heated skin. Daniel stood with his back to her, looking out the window, his hands in his trouser pockets. He turned slowly, a slow smile forming on his lips. —You’re early— he said, his voice low and rough. —You said not to keep you waiting. —And you never obeyed me before. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. The click of the lock echoed like a period. Daniel approached, his steps measured, like a predator sizing up its prey. He stopped inches from her, his familiar scent invading her senses. —You came— he murmured, his fingers brushing her arm, moving up to her shoulder, sliding along her collarbone. —I knew you would. Laura didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Their bodies were already talking. He pulled her to him, one hand on the nape of her neck, the other on her waist, and kissed her with an urgency that made her moan. It was a hungry, desperate kiss, as if the years apart had been a torture. And maybe they had been. —I thought about you— he whispered against her lips, his teeth lightly grazing hers. —Every day. —Liar. —You know I don’t lie when it comes to us. And it was true. Daniel never lied about desire. About what he wanted from her. About what he would do to have her. He pushed her against the wall, his hands moving down her body, squeezing, exploring. Laura arched her back, feeling the excitement build, the heat spreading between her legs. He knew exactly where to touch, how to touch, how to make her lose her mind. —Say you thought about me too— he demanded, his voice a growl. —I did— she admitted, the words coming out in a sigh. —Say what you thought. —I thought about you touching me. About you fucking me. About you making me forget everything. Daniel smiled, satisfied. —Then let’s do it again. And he kissed her again, deeper, more intense, as his hands worked the zipper of her dress, pulling it down slowly, revealing the bare skin beneath. Laura wasn’t wearing a bra. He groaned at the sight of her exposed breasts, her nipples already hard, begging for attention. —Beautiful— he murmured, lowering his head to lick one, then the other, his teeth lightly grazing. Laura tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, feeling the wetness grow between her legs. He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist, and carried her to the bed. —Are you going to let me do it all again?— he asked, laying her on the sheets, his dark eyes burning with desire. —Yes— she answered without hesitation. And then there were no more words. Just the sound of clothes being torn off, of muffled moans, of bodies moving in an ancient, familiar rhythm. Daniel took her as if she were his, as if she always had been, and Laura surrendered, because deep down, that was exactly what she wanted. Later, when they lay breathless and sweaty, he traced lazy circles on her hip with his fingertips. —Will you come back?— he asked, his voice low. Laura didn’t answer right away. She looked at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the question, the weight of the choice. —I don’t know— she said, finally. Daniel smiled, as if he already knew the answer. —You will. And she knew he was right. Because desire was stronger than guilt. Stronger than marriage. Stronger than everything. Her phone vibrated on the floor, where it had fallen hours earlier. Laura stretched to pick it up, seeing her husband’s name on the screen. *"Where are you? I’m waiting for you for dinner."* She looked at Daniel, who watched her with a satisfied smile. —I have to go— she said, starting to get dressed. —Of course— he replied, not moving. —But you’ll come back. Laura didn’t deny it. And when she left the room, leaving Daniel behind, she knew he was right. Because she always came back.