Alison want back to look for scott, find him in a hidden stairs. Scott gave her a hand gesture to come to him, Alison without hesitation walks to him.
Scott leads Alison up the hidden stairs, hand lightly at her back. Each step feels like a dare.
The door creaks open into a lush, dimly lit room. Velvet walls, gold-framed mirrors, a single massive bed in the center.
She pauses at the threshold. "Where are we?"
His voice low: " You are away from everything. Just us."
Her heels echo on the floor as she steps inside. The air is heavier
He turns to her, barely inches apart.
His thumb grazes her lips. "You have no idea what you're doing to me, Red."
She exhales shakily. "You don't even know me."
He answers with a kiss slow, hot, devouring.
She presses into him, her hands on his chest. He grips her waist firmly, pulls her closer.
The kiss grows, lips crashing, breathing heavy, heat rising like fire between them.
He peels off his jacket. She watches, eyes locked on his body.
She reaches for the first button of his shirt, and he lets her, silently watching.
Shirt opens. Sculpted abs. Ink on his chest. Her breath catches.
He runs his fingers down the strap of her red dress.
"May I?" he asks. She nods.
Slowly, he lowers the straps down her arms. The dress slides to the floor pooling like blood at her feet.
She's wearing nothing underneath. His reaction is instant eyes blazing, jaw clenched, hands twitching to touch.
He lifts her against the wall , her legs instinctively wrapping around him.
His mouth trails down her neck, biting gently, tasting her skin.
She gasps when his hand finds her heat slow at first, then deeper.
Her back arches. He groans into her ear: "You're already soaked."
She pulls his belt loose, shoves his pants down.
He enters her in one strong push. They both gasp.
Her head falls back as he begins to move slow, deep thrusts. The wall shakes slightly with each motion.
He turns her to face the full-length mirror. "Look at you," he whispers.
One hand at her throat, the other gripping her hips.
He takes her from behind watching their reflection.
Her fingers scrape the glass. Moans echo in the room.
He whispers in her ear: "No one have ever touched you like this, have they?"
She moans his name not even knowing it.
He carries her to the bed, lays her down carefully like she's something fragile and dangerous.
Their bodies move in sync now rougher, sweat-slick, desperate.
She loses count of how many times.
He kisses every part of her. She bites his shoulder. He grips her thighs like he's never letting go.
At one point, they both scream together, shaking.
They collapse. Breathing loud. Tangled and bare.
No words. Just silence and heat.
He lays beside her, tracing circles on her thigh.
She stares at the ceiling. Heart thundering.
"Say something," he whispers.
She finally says, "This… this doesn't mean anything, right?"
He doesn't answer. Just looks at her.
She rolls away. "It was just one night." She say.
She dresses quickly. He watches from the bed silent, unreadable.
As she opens the door, he finally says,
"You're wrong. It was never just one night. Not for me."
She leaves shaken, wrecked, not sure who she is anymore.