I still can’t believe I’m in this position.

For the past three days, I held myself together, composed, guarded, and focused. But now, in this moment, in this quiet hotel lounge in the middle of Rome, I know he has finally won.

It started with harmless conversations—small talks over the breakfast buffet, polite nods in the elevator, quick smiles exchanged when passing by the pool. We spoke about random things, books, weather, and the weird pasta portions in Italy. I didn’t even realise when it became more.

And then I discovered his room was right beside mine.

At first, I ignored the thrill that fact gave me. I wasn’t here for this. I was in Italy for a short work trip. No distractions, no drama. But somehow, our conversations started to go deeper. I noticed how open-minded he was, how he listened with such calm curiosity, how emotionally aware he seemed. It was hard not to be drawn to that kind of energy.

Undoubtedly, he was attractive, but I’d done well pretending not to notice.

Until the morning I was leaving.

I had my bags packed. My cab was due in an hour. And just as I stepped out of my room, we bumped into each other in the hallway. It felt like something in the universe shifted.

“Leaving already?” he asked.

“Yeah, my flight’s in a few hours,” I replied, smiling.

We ended up walking down to the lounge together. Somehow, we started talking about art.

“I actually bought a piece you might like,” he said.

I raised my brows.

Would you like to see it?”

And that was it.

That’s how I found myself sitting on the edge of his bed, my heart beating a little too fast. I scanned the room with my eyes; the curtains were drawn just enough to let in soft light.

He asked if I wanted something to drink. I said yes, though I didn’t need it.

We stood close. Too close. Our hands kept brushing. Our eyes kept meeting. It was no longer about the art.

Sensing the shift, he stood. “Let me get the piece,” he said, walking to his suitcase.

He returned, holding a small framed work. I couldn’t even focus on it. I was busy watching how his lips moved as he explained its origin and how his fingers gripped the frame. I swallowed hard.

He looked at me. Really looked at me.

And I couldn’t pretend anymore.

It started with a kiss, soft at first, like he was asking for permission. I gave it, pulling him closer. The art was forgotten. The drinks untouched.

Clothes disappeared between kisses and hurried touches. There was no rush, yet it felt urgent. His hands traced my skin like he’d imagined it already. I responded to his every touch like I’d been waiting for it, aching for it.

We moved together like we already knew each other’s bodies. He was attentive, warm, and fully present. And when he whispered my name in the quiet moments between, I felt something stir in me that had nothing to do with sex.

It wasn’t just physical but emotional, sensual, and magnetic.

And when it was over, we lay side by side, the sheets tangled around us, breaths still catching up.

I turned to him, smiling softly. “I can’t believe what I just did.”

He chuckled, “Neither can I. But I’m glad you did.”

And just like that, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to leave anymore.

Downtown
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