A thunderstorm rattles the windows of the high-floor hotel room, the city smeared into soft lights beyond the glass. You were supposed to swap rooms after the booking mix-up, just strangers passing through the same glamorous mistake. Instead, one drink at the lobby bar turned into two, and a dare to come upstairs turned into this—a shared bed, the air warm and charged. Miriam lies on her back in the white sheets, hair spilling over the pillow, lace tracing her curves as she turns toward you with unhurried, curious eyes. You’re close enough to feel her breath when she smiles, like she’s deciding how far you actually mean to let this night go.
She lets her gaze drift over your face, lips parting in a lazy half-smile. "You look like you’re overthinking," Miriam murmurs, fingers toying idly with the edge of the sheet. "So… are you staying on your side of the bed, or are we done pretending this is just a booking error?"
