Story 3: Stranger love

I saw them the second I stepped into the hotel bar.

Two weeks. That was all it had taken. Two weeks since he packed the last of his things from my apartment, kissed my forehead like he was doing me a favor, and told me we “just wanted different things.” Now he was here, laughing at something the blonde beside him said, his hand resting on the small of her back like it had always belonged there.

Something cold and sharp slid under my ribs.

I had come downstairs for one drink. Just one. Enough to take the edge off the quiet of the hotel room I had booked for the weekend because I couldn’t stand the silence of my own place. I hadn’t expected to see him. I definitely hadn’t expected the easy way he looked at her.

I ordered a glass of red and drank half of it standing at the bar.

That was when I noticed the man two seats down.

Tall. Dark hair slightly too long. A black button-down open at the throat. He was reading something on his phone, completely uninterested in the room. He looked like the kind of man who didn’t need to try.

I set my glass down harder than necessary.

Before I could talk myself out of it I walked over, stopped right in front of him, and waited until he looked up.

His eyes were a cool, steady gray.

“I need you to do something for me,” I said.

He raised one eyebrow but didn’t speak.

I leaned in, kissed him full on the mouth, slow enough to be unmistakable, and whispered against his lips, “Play along. My ex is watching.”

Then I took his hand and walked toward the elevators without looking back.

He came with me.

We didn’t speak in the elevator. My heart was slamming so hard I could feel it in my throat. The doors opened on the twelfth floor. I led him down the hallway, unlocked my room with the key card, and stepped inside.

The second the door clicked shut the reality of what I had just done hit me like cold water.

I turned around fast.

He stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, watching me with that same calm expression. No anger. No amusement. Just quiet attention.

“I’m so sorry,” I blurted. “That was, God, that was insane. I saw my ex with someone new and I just… I wanted him to think I’d moved on. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I shouldn’t have dragged you up here. You can leave. Please leave. I’m embarrassed enough already.”

He didn’t move.

Silence stretched. Rain tapped lightly against the window.

Finally he spoke, voice low and even. “What’s your name?”

I blinked. “Sienna.”

“Rhys.” He took one step closer. Not enough to crowd me. Just enough that I had to tip my head back. “You always make impulsive decisions when you’re hurt, Sienna?”

“Apparently tonight I do.”

A faint almost-smile touched the corner of his mouth. “He looked surprised.”

“Good.”

“You looked like you were about to cry the entire ride up.”

I hated how accurately he read me. I wrapped my arms around myself. “You can go. Really. I’ll order room service and pretend this never happened.”

Rhys studied me for another long second. Then he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair near the window.

“I’m not leaving yet,” he said. “Sit down.”

It wasn’t a request.

I sat on the edge of the bed because my legs suddenly felt unreliable. He stayed standing, giving me space, but his presence filled the room anyway.

“Talk,” he said quietly. “You kissed a complete stranger in a bar and brought him to your hotel room to prove a point. That doesn’t happen without a reason bigger than pride.”

I stared at the carpet. The words came out before I could stop them.

“He left two weeks ago. Said he needed space. Said he wasn’t ready for anything serious. Then tonight I find him with someone who looks like she stepped out of a magazine and he’s already touching her like he’s forgotten my name. I just… I wanted him to see I wasn’t sitting alone feeling sorry for myself.”

Rhys nodded once, slow. “Did it work?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t look back.”

“Smart.”

Another stretch of silence. The only sound was the rain and the low hum of the air conditioning.

He moved then, slowly, and sat on the opposite side of the bed, leaving a careful distance between us. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. I could have stopped you in the bar. I didn’t.”

I looked at him. “Why not?”

“Because you looked like you needed someone to say yes to you for once.” His voice stayed quiet. “And because the second you kissed me I stopped caring about whatever game you were playing.”

Heat climbed my neck. I should have told him to leave again. Instead I heard myself ask, “What happens now?”

Rhys leaned back on one hand, still watching me. “Now you decide whether you actually want me here, or whether this was only for an audience that isn’t in the room anymore.”

The honesty in it settled under my skin.

I didn’t answer right away. I looked at his mouth, at the open collar of his shirt, at the way he waited without pushing. Something restless and lonely inside me leaned toward him.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” I admitted.

“Then you’re not.”

He reached across the space between us and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was light, almost careful, but it sent a slow current down my spine. I didn’t pull away.

Rhys’s eyes stayed on mine. “I’m going to kiss you again,” he said. “Not for anyone else. Just because I want to. If you don’t want that, say so now.”

I didn’t say anything.

He closed the distance and kissed me properly this time, slow, deliberate, tasting me like he had all night. One hand slid into my hair, tilting my head. The other rested on my waist, warm through the fabric of my dress. I made a soft sound against his mouth and felt him smile.

When he finally pulled back we were both breathing a little faster.

“Still want me to leave?” he asked, voice rougher now.

“No.”

“Good.”

He kissed me again, deeper. I shifted closer without thinking. His hand slid from my waist to the small of my back, drawing me in until our knees touched. The kiss turned hungrier. I felt the first real spark of want low in my stomach, something that had nothing to do with proving a point and everything to do with the way he held me like he already knew how I needed to be touched.

Rhys broke the kiss and rested his forehead against mine.

“We’re not rushing this,” he murmured. “Not after the night you’ve had. But I’m staying. And if you keep looking at me like that, Sienna, I’m going to want a lot more than kissing before morning.”

I swallowed. My pulse was loud in my ears.

“I’m okay with that,” I whispered.

His thumb stroked once along my jaw. “Then we take it slow tonight. Talk. Touch. See what this actually is without an audience.”

He settled back against the headboard and opened one arm in quiet invitation.

I hesitated only a second before moving into the space he offered. His arm settled around me, solid and warm. I rested my head against his shoulder and listened to the steady beat of his heart under my ear.

Outside, the rain kept falling.

Inside the room, for the first time in two weeks, the silence didn’t feel empty.

And somewhere between the careful way he held me and the heat still lingering from his mouth, I knew tomorrow morning would not be simple.

But tonight, I didn’t want simple.

I just wanted him to stay.