03:48 a.m.
Her toes tremble on the corridor carpet. A scent drifts from beneath the black trench coat, tickling my nose. “I don’t want to sleep with you here.” It was a lie. Each flicker of her lashes added another tally of sin. The woman who, twelve hours ago, cradled a paper cup in both hands on the plane is gone. All that remains is the sweetness of a fruit so forbidden that even a taste is transgression.
04:03 a.m.
While the elevator doors seal shut, the air between us splinters into shards. Crimson lips brush the back of the hand pressing the button. One more move and I won’t stop at two. Each time her breath grazes my nape, pleasure and terror combust together. The glittering number 17 flashes past like a spark. When the doors open she says, “My room is across the hall. But you’re coming inside.”
04:11 a.m.
Room 1720. The click of the keycard cuts through damp skin. As soon as the door shuts, she shrugs off the coat. The instant her body is bared, the last fragment of goodness crumbles. Two steps to the bed. Her gaze has changed. Deep in her pupils stands a devil newly born. Fingers unfasten my shirt buttons, whispering, “Let’s begin with disbelief. That only makes you want to believe.”
04:19 a.m.
At the foot of the bed, her hand hooks my chin. Her fingertips don’t tremble. A scorching heart meets chilled skin. When our sighs mingle, we pull each other close while destroying one another. It isn’t a kiss; it’s pillage. My tongue mines for sweetness, steals breath. “Love began the moment you didn’t know me.” The words dissolve every boundary. The good girl boarded the plane and vanished, and the luscious devil closes the door.