The Hotel Room: His Broken Vows

Chapter Four - Kate

CHAPTER FOUR

Kate

The adrenaline was still buzzing through Kate’s veins as she slipped the hotel key card back into her purse. She looked around the room. God, she felt brilliant . Like a secret agent or some kind of seductive super spy.

She'd figured out how to log into James's hotel app earlier that day. All it took was a few taps to add herself as a guest and request a key at the front desk. When the concierge handed her the card with a polite smile, she’d barely resisted the urge to giggle. James was going to love this.

She wasn’t sure how long she had before James returned, so she changed out of her clothes quickly. The overnight bag she brought was zipped shut and discreetly plopped under the desk. Not the most masterful hiding place, but out of sight for a cursory glance. She wouldn’t need it until the morning anyway. She wouldn’t be thinking about pajamas tonight.

The lingerie felt... different .

Black lace, delicate but daring—far more revealing than anything she’d usually buy. The bra was basically transparent. The matching panties were just as bold, cut high at the hips with sheer panels. She vacillated between feeling alluring and foolish.

It was completely out of her comfort zone.

Tonight, she wanted to feel bold. She was going to seduce her husband and blow his mind.

For the next half hour, Kate positioned herself on the bed in a variety of poses, experimenting with different angles—on her elbows, stretched out along the sheets, sitting up against the pillows. She was trying to find a balance between looking seductive and not feeling completely ridiculous, but the longer she stayed there, the more awkward it felt.

Kate had the suspicion that when James walked in, she would mostly look like a deer in headlights.

She flopped back down from her latest attempt—propped up on her elbows, facing the door. She stared at the ceiling. Maybe it would be better to make a dramatic entrance.

Yes, that was a much better idea. She knew how to strut. And she knew how much James liked her legs. She rolled off the bed and crossed to the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind her.

She adjusted the lace lingerie in the mirror, her cheeks flushing as she smoothed the delicate black straps. There was nothing subtle about this outfit.

The bathroom wasn’t any better for her nerves and it was a little bit cold too. She blew out a breath as she looked at herself in the mirror. Maybe she should’ve stayed on the bed after all.

Her fingers hesitated over a stray strap, and she had just about convinced herself to go back to the sprawling alluringly plan when she heard the door to the room open from the hallway.

Her heart leapt. He’s here.

The thrill curled low in her stomach, spreading warmth through her body.

This was it.

Kate smoothed her hands down the sides of the flimsy lace she wore, anticipation coiling tighter with every second. He was going to be so excited when he saw her like this. His eyes would darken, he’d cross the room without a word, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her…

He was going to ravish her.

But then—another voice.

Kate’s fingers froze on the door handle.

Oh damn, James must be with work colleagues.

Her first thought was complete bone-numbing relief that she wasn’t sprawled seductively on the bed in the center of the room like she’d originally planned. She held both hands over her mouth the muffle the bark of laughter. That would have been terrible. She hadn’t considered for a moment that James might not be coming back to his room alone.

She really hoped nobody needed to use the bathroom.

Because, she as she now fully appreciated, she was hiding. Practically naked. And the rest of her clothes were still in the bedroom.

There wasn’t even a towel, let alone a hotel robe in here. Just cold tile, a mirror that felt far too large, and the sickening realization that she was trapped.

It was like one of those anxiety dreams come to life, the kind where you show up without clothes and can’t find anything to cover yourself. But this wasn’t a dream.

She started to sweat.

Soft voices filtered through the door.

She strained to listen, willing whoever it was James had invited in, to leave. A shuffle of footsteps. A deeper murmur. A feminine laugh.

Room service? A colleague?

Kate pressed her palm against her chest, feeling the uneven hammer of her heartbeat. Breathe. Wait it out.

She pressed her ear to the bathroom door. She couldn’t hear the words clearly—just soft, high tones. Female. Unmistakably. The logical side of her brain whispered reassurance, but something uneasy coiled beneath it.

But then the sound changed.

A low moan. And another.

Kate's breath caught.

No. No, no, no.

The air felt too hot, her skin prickling with shame and disbelief.

She knew what James sounded like when he…when…she shut her eyes against the sharp pain. She was plastered against the door, her ear pushed so hard against the wood that the stud of her earring bit into her neck.

This was the real nightmare.

He’s having sex.

Her husband. With someone else. Right there .

And she was trapped .

She’d dressed up for him. Spent nearly an hour carefully choosing this lingerie, putting on makeup she barely wore anymore, fussing with her hair.

She felt ridiculous. Foolish.

Standing here in nothing but lace, while some other woman —

Her stomach twisted.

This can’t be happening. It has to be some mistake.

But the moans were getting louder.

And deep down, Kate knew. There was no mistake.

Another sound—a deep groan from James, unmistakable and familiar and primal—ripped her from the haze.

A prickling heat flushed beneath her skin, her pulse pounding so loud in her ears it drowned out the sound of voices beyond the door.

If she stayed here any longer, she would die .

Or at least, it felt that way—like her body was winding tighter and tighter, adrenaline flooding her veins, urging her to move , to do something .

Her clothes were in the main room. The room where he was now , with someone else. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Her hand curled tighter around the doorknob, fingers trembling, the metal cold and unforgiving beneath her clammy palm. Her chest felt tight, too tight, like the air had turned solid in her lungs.

She pushed the door open.

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The room was well-lit. Almost too bright, the soft golden glow meant to feel luxurious now felt harsh, exposing every inch of the scene before her. It was sparsely furnished—clean lines, neutral tones—leaving nothing to distract her, nothing to block her view of the bed.

The bed where he was.

Her mind kept scrambling for an explanation, anything that made sense, but there was only this—the brutal reality of skin, movement, betrayal.

The plush carpet pressed against her bare feet, grounding her in the worst way, as if her body refused to let her float away from this moment.

James wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t . Except he was. Right there. In front of her eyes.

His body pumping up under another woman. Brunette. Curvy. She was riding him. His legs flexed, pushing himself into her again and again. Her head was tipped back, her nails digging into his chest. Her heavy breasts moved in counterpoint to the rhythm of their hips. His hands, James ’s hands, were on her hips, moving her up and down.

Every sound felt amplified—the cartoonish squeaking of the mattress spring, the sharp gasps from the woman, the low, broken sound James made as he—

A visceral ache spread through Kate’s chest. The pain wasn’t sharp. It was an aching, suffocating weight on her chest she couldn’t lift.

His fingers were pressed into the woman’s fleshy hips and Kate stared at them. He wasn’t wearing his wedding ring.

Kate felt lightheaded, like the room was tilting beneath her feet. She felt…disconnected. Maybe her mind was protecting her, dulling the sharp edges of what she was seeing because the truth was too unbearable to fully process. Or maybe her brain was broken.

Something inside her had been ripped open, raw and exposed, bleeding out where no one could see.

She pulled her eyes away from his naked ring finger, although it took effort. It was like blinking after looking at the sun. The afterimage was superimposed on her vision.

Her eyes skittered away from where their hips were slapping together. She looked at his face instead. He was staring at the woman’s breasts. His mouth open and panting.

She knew his face better than her own. But this was like looking at a stranger. It was vulgar. Disgusting.

And then his eyes met hers.

Shock rippled across his face, horror replacing pleasure so fast it was almost comical. His entire body went rigid, like he’d been physically struck.

“ Kate? ” His voice cracked. “What—”

The woman above him gasped, twisting to see what he was looking at.

James roughly pushed the woman off him, and Kate didn’t want to look but she couldn’t stop herself. His hard, ruddy cock, encased in a condom, wet from her body.

The man in front of her wasn’t James. Couldn’t be. James was safe. Steady. Hers.

He scrambled back, almost falling off the bed as he reached for his pants. His face twisted with panic, stammering. “Kate, it’s—fuck, I can explain—”

Kate couldn’t move. Standing there in lingerie she’d worn for him , now a cruel joke. She felt exposed— bare —in the worst possible way.

She swallowed, the taste of bile rising in her throat.

The woman on the bed had pulled a sheet to cover her chest, and now she looked between them, eyes wide. “Oh my God. I didn’t— I didn’t know he was—”

Kate couldn’t look at her. She looked at her husband instead. “You — ” She choked back the sob clawing at her throat. Her voice when it came out was barely audible. “You were supposed to love me . ”

She could barely remain upright. It was as if her body was trying to curl into a fetal position while standing.

James stepped toward her, desperation in every line of his face. “I do. I love you, Kate — ”

Humiliation flooded her body. Standing there, nearly naked in lingerie she had picked for him, while he—

James reached for her, bare-chested, half-dressed, and utterly pathetic.

She backed up. “Don’t. Don’t touch me.”

James reached for her anyway and she did the only thing she could do.

She turned and fled.