Forbidden Desires: Taboo Encounters.

The key (part 2)

Elena pushed through the hotel’s glass doors with her pulse still elevated and her thoughts scattered.

She walked straight across the quiet lobby, past the polished floors and soft lighting, and went directly to the elevators. The ride up to the eighth floor felt longer than it should have. She stared at her reflection in the mirrored walls—dark dress, slightly flushed cheeks, eyes still carrying the residual heat of the bar—and hated how unfinished she looked.

When the doors opened she stepped out and walked quickly down the hallway to room 814. She stopped in front of the door, reached into her bag, and felt for the key card.

It wasn’t there.

Elena frowned and searched again, more carefully this time—side pocket, main compartment, the small zippered section where she sometimes slipped important things. Nothing. A low frustration settled in her chest as the realization landed fully. She had left it at the bar.

She exhaled sharply and looked around the empty hallway. A house phone was mounted on the wall near the elevators. She walked back to it and picked up the receiver. After two rings, the front desk answered.

“Front desk, good evening.”

“This is Elena Rivera in room 814,” she said. “I’ve lost my key card. I need someone to let me in.”

“Of course, Ms. Rivera. We’ll send someone up shortly. Please stay by your door.”

She hung up and leaned against the wall beside 814, arms crossed, staring at the closed door. The silence of the hallway pressed in around her. Every distant sound—the hum of the elevators, a door closing farther down the corridor—made her shoulders tighten. She told herself she was only irritated by the inconvenience. She refused to admit that part of her was wishing she haf stayed back at the bar.

A few minutes later the elevator opened and a uniformed staff member stepped out carrying a master key. He greeted her politely.

“Ms. Rivera? Room 814?”

“Yes.”

He asked for her identification. Elena handed over her ID. He checked it carefully, compared the name to the information on his device, then nodded.

“Thank you. Sorry for the wait.”

He unlocked the door with a smooth electronic beep and pushed it open for her.

“There you are, ma’am. Have a good night.”

“Thank you.”

He left. Elena stepped inside, closed the door firmly behind her, and engaged the manual lock for good measure. Only then did she let out a long breath.

The room felt too quiet after the noise of the bar and the tension of the hallway. She kicked off her heels, set her bag down, and walked straight into the bathroom. The dress came off in one motion. She turned the shower on as hot as she could stand and stepped under the spray, letting the water beat against her shoulders and run down her back.

She stayed there longer than necessary, eyes closed, trying to wash the entire evening off her skin—the weight of Dominic’s gaze, the arrogance in his voice, the way her body had reacted even as she told him no. I still get what I want. The words kept circling. She hated that they still had any effect on her.

When she finally stepped out, she wrapped a thick white towel around her body and another around her wet hair. Steam followed her into the bedroom. She was still drying the ends of her hair with the second towel when she heard the soft electronic beep of the door lock.

Elena froze.

The sound was quiet, but unmistakable. She turned slowly.

The door opened.

A Man’s figure stood in the doorway, the original key card still held loosely between his fingers. His eyes moved over her without hurry—damp hair, bare shoulders, the towel that barely reached mid-thigh—and something dark and satisfied settled in his expression.

Elena’s pulse slammed against her throat.

“Who is there?” she demanded, even though she already knew.

He stepped inside and let the door close behind him with a quiet click. The automatic lock engaged.

“You, Dominic !” she said. The word came out sharper than she intended. “I was wondering where I lost that. I thought hotel staff—”

“Nah.” Dominic’s voice was calm, almost conversational. “I think you left it for me.”

“I didn’t leave it for you.”she tried to defend herself innocently

He didn’t argue. He simply walked toward her, slow and certain. Elena took one step back and felt the edge of the bed against the backs of her thighs. He kept coming until there was almost no space left between them.

His hand rose. Fingers brushed the edge of the towel where it was tucked between her breasts. The contact was light, but it sent a visible shiver through her entire body.

Then the towel loosened.

It slipped, caught for a second on the curve of her hips, and fell to the floor in a soft white heap.

Elena stood completely bare in front of him. Her hands moving quickly to cover her breast

Dominic’s gaze dropped, taking her in without shame or hurry. When his eyes returned to hers, the cocky smile from the bar was gone. What replaced it was darker. Hungrier. Certain.

“Still sure you’re not doing all of that?” he asked quietly.

Elena’s breath came short and uneven. She should have covered herself with the towel again. She should have ordered him out. Instead she stood there, skin still damp from the shower, pulse racing, as Dominic reached out and settled his hands on her bare waist.

The heat of his palms against her skin made her knees weaken.

He pulled her closer.

And the night she had tried to walk away from finally caught up with her.