Correct.

“How do you know these things? How do you know me?” she asked. He finally lifted his head, looking down at her.

“I'm a very observant person, Mischa,” he sounded serious.

She felt like shit.

“I don't know how to be this kind of woman,” she said, her voice small. He chuckled.

“I'll teach you.”

When Tal kissed her that time, it broke something. Broke her. Misch groaned and opened her mouth to his, pressed her tongue against his. She pushed her body back against his, wanting to feel every inch of him, every moment with him.

“God, oh god, oh god, oh god, what am I doing?” she panted when his mouth moved to her cleavage.

“Making two lonely people very happy,” he breathed, his hands skating down to her legs. His fingers slipped against her bare thighs and began dragging their way up. Her shivering grew stronger.

“It's been so long, I don't know if I know how to do this anymore,” she warned him. She choked on her voice when his fingers hit her underwear.

“You're doing fine.”

“But what if I'm -,”

“Time to be quiet, Mischa.”

Tal was a tall man, a lot taller than her, and he had long legs. Long arms. So of course, he had long fingers. They tapped out a rhythm against the pulse inside her thigh, made her pant in time. Then tiptoed to the side of her panties, his middle finger sneaking its way inside the material. Inside her body, inside her brain.

“God, I shouldn't be here,” she groaned, moving onto her toes.

“Feels like you've been ready and waiting for this,” he chuckled in a low, ominous sounding voice as his finger swam in her heat.

“Oh my god.”

It wasn't at all like she'd imagined. Back in the U.S., when she'd been planning her little fling, Misch had figured she'd be a flirty vixen, with a thin veil of guilt over everything she did. But it wasn't like that. She was a shivering mess, incapable of speech, unsure of what to do, and guilt didn't exist anymore. Confliction didn't exist. Concern didn't exist. Marriage didn't exist.

The elevator came to a stop, but Tal didn't. He didn't pull away from her till long after the doors slid open. Then he pulled her out by her hips, walked her backwards down the hall with his mouth attached to her. He finally let go of her when he had to open his door, and they stumbled inside.

“Do you need anything?” he called out, striding across the suite. Misch shut the door behind her and slowly followed him.

The room was large. There was a kitchenette by the entrance, and she moved into the living room, which had huge picture windows with a stunning view. To the left were two large double doors, which Tal had pushed open and walked through, heading into a bathroom on the other side of the room. The bedroom.

With a king sized bed.

I can't do this.

“What have I done!?” Misch hissed to herself, letting her bag fall to the floor as her hands went into her hair. How had she gone from a quiet drink alone, to making out with a stranger in an elevator? Granted, one of the sexiest strangers she'd ever met in her life, but still. Sexy didn't matter – she was married.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Tal's voice called out. She turned back around to face him. He was making his way across the bedroom, but he wasn't looking at her. He was focusing on his wrist, on taking off a large, complicated looking watch. Once he got it off, he tossed it onto a dresser, then stopped to look at her. She looked back at him.

“I can't do this,” she stated bluntly.

He smiled. That annoying, smirky, sly smile.

Her panties got slightly damper.

“And why not, Mischa?” he asked, his voice low as he folded his arms across his chest.

“Because, I'm married. I don't want to hurt him. I like you, I really do, but I just … can't. I don't … I don't want this,” her voice fell into a whisper.

“You don't want me?” Tal clarified. Misch looked away.

“It's not that,” she sighed.

“You do want me.”

“That doesn't matter. I'm married.”

“That didn't matter, two minutes ago.”

“Well, it matters now.”

“When was the last time he touched you like that?”

She looked back at Tal.

“A long time,” she replied.

“How long?”

“Months. I'm not sure. Maybe six, maybe more.”

Tal stared at her for a long moment. His eyes wandered over her face, then down her body. Clear to her feet. Back up again, lingering at her hips and breasts before locking onto her eyes.

“I would touch you like that everyday,” he said softly. She gave a sad laugh.

“Words are easy to say – I'm sure he felt the same way, at one point,” she replied. Tal shook his head.

“No, I doubt he ever did, or else you wouldn't be here right now, about to get fucked by a different man,” he corrected her. Misch shook her head.

“I told you, I can't do that with you,” she stressed.

“Say you don't want to.”

“What?”

“Say you don't want to. Say this isn't what you wanted when you went to that cafe tonight. Every night. All those bars, all those restaurants. Say this isn't what you're looking for,” he commanded her.

“I don't want this,” Misch's voice was barely a whisper. His eyes narrowed.