"Just go in your room and close the door and we'll pretend this never happened."

Fitz was hardly standing close, but Olivia could still feel him behind her. His voice was as palpable as the feeling of his fingers wrapped around her own not even an hour ago. A swooping feeling dropped from her throat and settled at the bottom of her stomach – exciting, exhilarating, and interlaced with halting apprehension. Just go in and close the door, she ordered herself. But she didn't move.

"Go in your room," Fitz repeated, but his voice was low and hardly convincing.

Olivia took a slow breath and looked at the gold-ringed keyhole of her hotel room door. She wanted to pinch herself at her own daring. She stood before her own door knowing that she was teetering on the edge of a dangerous precipice and that the easy decision – the right decision – was to walk in without a word and close the door behind her. But that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted a reason to be okay with not feeling as bad as she should for considering what she was considering. She wanted the blessing of her own permission to go ahead. And ultimately, she wanted to know what it would feel like to finally give in to the all-consuming, magnetic feeling she got when he was near, and to finally turn a blind eye and free-fall. He has a wife! Olivia reprimanded herself. He has a wife…he has a wife…listen to yourself, think of what you would be doing…he has two children, he is running for President, he hired you, he…. But even those words were failing her; they were losing all of their fight and reason, and they were paling in comparison to the glaring chance right behind her. Olivia looked at her door once more and then suddenly, she was no longer thinking. Instead, she was walking away from her room and down the hall. She didn't have to hear the rolling of Fitz's suitcase to know that he was trailing behind her. The two of them walked in purposeful silence with the unspoken agreement of what would happen next hanging poignantly over their heads. When she reached his door, Olivia stopped and looked behind her. Her heart was beating so fast and so loud that she could hear it in her ears. Fitz swiped the key card, and when the tiny bulb flashed green, he pushed the door open. Olivia walked in first, and took her time nudging her suitcase into the corner. She listened to him close and deadbolt the door behind him, and waited for him to speak. And then she felt him.

His hands found themselves digging into her waist, and then he spun her around to face him, and his lips found hers. In seconds they found their rhythm; he was kissing her and she was kissing him. He pressed Olivia's back up against the wall, and then he pushed his tongue deeper into her mouth. It was an ecstatic and relieving mix of fervor and carnal chaos, and Olivia was trapped in. She ravaged him, relishing in the feel of his hands running over her body. Her longing, fueled by the quickening of her pulse, raced through her body and clouded her mind, sending her hurtling through pitch black tunnel vision. She wanted him, and in that moment, the only thing she knew was the feel of his tongue dancing around hers, the grasp of his hands on her thighs, and his breathing – rapid and labored, and warm against her face. Effortlessly, Fitz picked her up and carried her across the room, and then he dropped her on the night table. To her left, a lamp crashed to the ground in a tangled heap of its own golden wire. Fitz stepped between her thighs and brought his hands up and over her breasts and then under jaw, his mouth never leaving hers. Olivia pushed her hips into him; the growing bulge of his pants rubbed against her, sparking explosive friction. She moaned into his neck and grabbed at the smooth fabric of the shoulders of his jacket. Fitz dropped his hands down to her wrists and then suddenly, he pulled away and stared at her, panting hard; she stared back, pressing her back against the wall, trying to keep still. The two of them were silent for what seemed like too long.

"Take off your clothes," he whispered.

Even if the air hadn't been so still and quiet, Olivia could not have missed the hammering of her heart. She pulled her hair out of its low bun, hardly daring to speak. She unbuttoned her top, slipped it off her arms, and then dropped it to the floor. Tentatively, Olivia eased off the table. For a moment, she wavered on the spot, and then she unzipped her pants and stepped out of them to face Fitz in nothing but her underwear. Standing there, Olivia was acutely aware of her nakedness, but she watched Fitz look down to admire her and she reveled in the desire on his face – slack and focused. He swept her up in a kiss and she wrapped her arms around him, and then just like before, Fitz scooped her up, and a surprised gasp, short and quick with arousal, escaped her mouth. Fitz laid her on the bed, and then gently, he pushed her legs apart and kneeled between them. Olivia wrapped them around his waist and watched as he pulled his shirt up and out of his pants, unveiling the chiseled grooves of a taut stomach. The reality of moments ago was so far gone, and now it was just the two of them. It was just her lying on her back, looking up at him from underneath and running her hand up his chest. And then there was Fitz – digging his knuckles into the bed, trailing his tongue over her neck down to the top of her breasts, and then to her stomach. He stopped at her hip, and unwittingly, Olivia felt herself jerk under the intensity of it all – every muscle in her body tense and waiting. The curls of his hair teased at her hipbone, and then in one staggered breath over the inside of her thighs, Fitz hooked his fingers at top of her panties, and slid them off her hips and down her legs. The cool air of the room brushed over Olivia and she knew this was it. She pressed her legs against Fitz's arms and writhed beneath him, still not trusting herself to speak. Olivia ran her hands up his back and into his hair, letting them knot there. Then unable to stand it any longer, she grabbed at his shoulders, pulled him closer and kissed him hard, feeling herself getting lost, going under, and giving in.

x X x

1:39AM read the hotel's radio alarm clock. Olivia stared at the red numbers for a moment, and then she lay her head back down onto the pillow. Fitz was lying next to her with his wrist nestled perfectly in the curve and dip of her waist. It had been two hours since she first walked into his room and an hour since Fitz had fallen asleep next to her. He was facing her, sound asleep and breathing slowly. He looked peaceful and rested, and Olivia smiled to herself. It was undoubtedly amazing, and more than what she imagined it would have been. Olivia's eyes traveled over the sculpted line of his jaw, up to the subtle hills of lips. She had tried to leave but he had insisted that she stay… "just stay for one minute," he had whispered…. And so she had nodded and pretended to fall asleep too, but instead, she lay awake feeling a contentedness that was brutally but honestly marred with confusion and hurt. She felt stuck in an impossible place, because in the moment, she forgot that he wasn't hers and that she was falling for someone who couldn't be hers. She had succumbed to the feelings of a man who had captured her own; someone who was not hers to feel anything for. And then it was only a short while later that she realized hat she was brimming with a happiness so fleeting that it would never – could never – last to see daybreak. She watched the clock strike 1:42AM. She wanted to be angry with herself for lying naked under tangled sheets next to a man who was married, and who had a family. But it was futile to pretend that she didn't want more; that she didn't want his hands slipping underneath the her warm back to undo her bra, or that she didn't want his lips hovering above hers and breathing words that sent chills zigzagging up and down her sides…"you're doing fine"…. Olivia thought about how easy it would have been if she had hated him. She could have hated him for telling her exactly how he felt, or she could have hated him for not going through with firing her. And maybe, even she was partly to blame for not leaving and for getting to know him and allowing herself get caught in feeling for him. But she knew that that too, was impossible – she knew this man and she could never hate him. She looked at his wrist lazily hanging onto her hip and felt herself flush in the darkness as she remembered his voice on the bus…"Why didn't I meet you sooner? What kind of a coward was I to marry her and not wait for you to show up?" The words swam through her mind and stung at her the more she thought of them, like a dull ache from poking at a mysterious bruise. Beside her, Fitz stirred in his sleep, clearly amidst a dream.

Olivia let out a slow breath and then with what felt like all of her resolve, she moved Fitz's arm off her waist. She got up out of the bed, reached for her clothes on the floor, and dressed quickly. Olivia surveyed the room, looking for remnants of her visit, and then she grabbed her suitcase from its long-forgotten corner and looked over at Fitz. He had since rolled over so that his back was facing her now. She peered out the peephole in the door and through its distorted view, she saw that no one was there. She pulled the door slightly ajar, poked her head out, and then as quickly and quietly as she could, she walked back to her room.

So Olivia is conflicted…as probably expected when one sleeps with a married man. I've always wondered what happened after this scene and decided to give a shot at writing out what I imagine. It's going to be a six chapter one-shot, so hopefully you guys enjoy. Review below and let me know what you think!