He’s not wrong.But I’m not ready to admit it.So I ask instead, “And what is it you think I want to learn?”
A pause.A long one.Then: “How to make someone beg.”
His voice hums in my ears long after he stops speaking.How to make someone beg.
The words shouldn't make my throat tighten, or my toes curl against the warm tile.But they do.I look at him again, at the lines at the corners of his eyes, the settled calm in his chest, the stillness of a man who has nothing to prove and everything to offer.
“Who says I don’t already know how?”
“You don’t look like someone who’s been given the chance to find out.”
I hate how that hits.Hate how much of me wants to agree.“What makes you think I want to learn fromyou?”
He leans back just enough to say he’s not chasing.“Because you haven’t left.”
He’s right.My fingers are still gripping the towel like it’s a shield.I’m still standing like I don’t know whether to kneel or run.
“Have you ever begged?”I ask.I mean it to come out flippant.It doesn’t.It sounds likeneed.
His gaze drags across me like the edge of a knife.“No.”
I swallow.“So you don’t know how it feels.”
“I know how to watch for it.The catch in a breath.The moment the eyes drop.The second someone forgets what they’re saying because theyneedtoo much.”
The heat between us isn’t coming from the steam anymore.
“What do you want from me?”I manage.
He rises.No rush.No fanfare.Juststands, towel still tied, and closes the distance between us until I feel the heat of his chest hovering near mine.His voice drops, quieter now, closer to a confession than a seduction.
“I want to teach you how totakeyour pleasure.Without guilt.Without apology.I want to feel your mouth on me, not because I asked, but because youcravedit.”
I don’t recognize the sound I make.It’s breath and ache.It’s every part of me twisting in on itself, trying to remember the rules I walked in with.I lift my chin, trying to regain ground.“You think I’m just going to drop to my knees?”
“I think,” he says, brushing his knuckles along my jawline, “you already want to.”
And God help me, Ido.But I don’t move yet.Not because I don’t want to.Because I want ittoo much.Because I need a second longer to understand who I am in this room, in this moment.
His hand falls away, leaving a burn in its wake.“You don’t have to,” he says.“I don’t want obedience.I want a choice.”Then he backs away.Just one step.But it changes the air between us.“I’m in Room 4 tonight.If you come to me, come becauseyouwant to.Not because I asked.”
He turns toward the exit, and for a breathless moment, I panic.He’s really leaving.But before the door clicks shut behind him, he glances back.
“And Luca?”I meet his gaze.“You don’t have to kneel to take control.”
I stare at the closed door long after it shuts.Room 4.
My hands feel clammy.The towel in my lap’s still damp from the steam.I hate how fast my heart’s beating.I hate that I want to walk away, but my feet won’t move.I tell myself I’m justcurious.That I just want towatch.That maybe he won’t even still be there.
But I know that’s a lie.
I walk the long stretch of hallway with a strange kind of reverence, like I’m about to enter somewhere sacred.Or dangerous.My fingertips brush each numbered door like they’re counting off my nerves one by one.
When I reach his, I hesitate.Just a second.Just enough to hear my own breath shake in my chest.Then I knock once, light.Almost too light.The door opens before I can talk myself out of it.
He’s still in his towel.Only now he’s added nothing, no robe, no barrier.The room behind him is dim, lit only by the warm flicker of a single sconce.The kind of light that asks for secrets.I step inside.He doesn’t speak, just closes the door behind me with a soft click that sounds louder than it should.
We stand there, facing each other.The silence doesn’t feel awkward, though.It feels like it’sdaringme to say something first.
