THE HOTEL ROOM SERVICE ll

Sienna's POV

The ice pack felt cold against my ankle, with drops of moisture sliding down my skin, but it was Julian’s touch that I couldn’t stop thinking about. I sat on the bed, my silk robe barely staying closed, feeling a mix of guilt and desire swirling in my mind.

What was I doing, pretending to be injured just to keep a stranger in my room? I was Sienna Lane, a woman who had everything under control—work meetings, budgets, a life meticulously organised. Yet here I was, my heart racing at the thought of a room service guy with a smile that could completely melt me. The strawberries were untouched on the table, and the prosecco was bubbling quietly, teasing my self-control. I sipped my merlot instead; the warmth of the wine did little to ease the fluttering feelings inside me.

I glanced at the clock—1:17 a.m. He had said he’d check on me, but that was probably just a polite way to say goodbye without it getting awkward. I groaned and flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The storm outside had calmed, but inside, I was a whirlwind of anxious thoughts, replaying his dark eyes and the way his fingers had briefly brushed against mine—gentle but not overwhelming. God, I really wanted him to come back. Please come back I muttered into the empty space.

On impulse, I grabbed the hotel phone, dialling the front desk. “Hi, this is room 1204,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

“I… uh, I think I might need some help. I tripped earlier, and my ankle’s bothering me. Could you send someone?” I cringed at the lie, but I really wanted to see him again, and that overrode my shame.

“Of course, Ms Lane,” the desk clerk said. “We’ll send someone right up.”

I hung up, smoothing my robe, adjusting it to cover more but leaving just enough skin to tempt. Minutes dragged on, every tick of the clock making my nerves jumpier. When the knock finally came, I jumped up, my heart racing, and opened the door. But it wasn't Julian standing there. It was a lanky guy in his thirties wearing a name tag that read “Mark.” He held a first-aid kit and asked, “I heard you hurt your ankle?”

My heart sank. “Oh, uh, yeah,” I stuttered, stepping back to let him in. “It’s not a big deal, I just… want it checked.” I forced a smile as I sat back on the bed, watching him kneel to check my perfectly fine ankle. Guilt crept in; this guy was just here to help, and I was using him to chase a daydream.

He was mid-sentence, explaining the difference between using ice and heat, when the door swung open again. Julian strode in, his uniform slightly rumpled, a tray of fresh towels in his hands. “Mark, you’re needed at the desk,” he said casually yet firmly. “They have a guest issue in room 1408. I’ll take care of Ms Lane.”

Mark looked surprised but didn’t argue. “Sure thing, man,” he replied, getting up and brushing off his knees. “Hope you feel better, Ms Lane.” With that, he left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Julian set the towels on the table, his eyes finding mine, a playful sparkle in his eyes.

“Still hurting?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, as if he could see right through my act.

I bit my lip, knowing I was caught but not sorry. “Maybe a little,” I said, leaning back on my hands, the robe slipping open just enough to reveal my breast. “Are you pretending to be a doctor now?”

He laughed as he strode across the room, stopping just before the bed. “You’re a handful, Sienna,” he said, but his gaze was hungry, roaming over my bare tits now. “Faking an injury just to get me back here? That’s a new one.”

I shrugged, my heart racing. “It worked, didn’t it?” I stood up, closing the gap between us, my bare feet sinking into the soft carpet. Up close, he was even more captivating—tall and fit, his cedar scent enveloping me. I reached out, my fingers brushing against his chest through his uniform shirt, feeling the warmth radiating from him. “I didn’t want you to leave.”

He caught my hand at first like he wanted to stop me, then he held it against his chest, his thumb gently stroking my wrist. “Be careful with what you start,” he warned, but there was a roughness in his voice, and his eyes darkened with the same longing that filled me. “I’m not good at walking away from temptation twice.”

“Then don’t,” I whispered, stepping closer until our bodies nearly touched. The air between us crackled with unspoken words. I tilted my head, my lips slightly parted, and he didn’t hesitate. His mouth crashed into mine, hot and demanding, his hands sliding to my waist, pulling me closer against him. The kiss was hot, our tongues tangling, teeth nipping, hours of restraint unravelling in seconds.

My robe fell open, and his hands roamed, cupping my breasts, thumbs teasing my nipples until I moaned into his mouth. He let out a low groan that sent warmth through me as he lifted me onto the bed, the mattress soft and welcoming against my back. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he whispered, his lips moving gently down my neck, leaving a mark that I knew would still be there the next day.

I reached for his shirt, pulling at it until the buttons popped open, my fingers eager to feel his skin—smooth, warm, and just a tiny bit hairy on his chest. His hands found the tie of my robe and loosened it, leaving me feeling vulnerable and wanting more beneath him. “Julian,” I gasped, as his hand slid between my thighs, finding my pussy wet and ready.

But then his radio crackled with noise, the harsh static cutting through our haze. His supervisor's voice came through sharply, demanding where he was.