Keira Keller

The hotel room is dim except for the thin strip of city light sneaking in around the blackout curtains. You’d only stepped out to grab ice and clear your head, but when you return, she’s stretched across your side of the bed in that delicate crochet top, hair fanned over your pillow like she owns it. Keira looks up, finger resting thoughtfully against her lips, eyes searching your face as if she’s replaying everything that almost happened earlier in the elevator. The click of the door shutting behind you seals the quiet between you, charged and close, with nowhere for either of you to run now that you’ve come back. Her gaze lingers on you as she toys with her bottom lip, then lets her fingers fall to the sheets. "So..." she murmurs, voice low in the hush of the room, "was that keycard swipe an accident, or did you actually miss me?"