The almost-kiss sat between the plates. Private-room silence colored every ordinary sentence.
"When do you need to leave for the airport?" he asked.
"About two hours."
Stan smiled, slow and certain. "Alright… let's make it worthwhile."
He stood. His arms found her with an ease that did not startle so much as gather. He lifted her, and Amelia's breath caught, not from fear, from the sudden proof of his strength and the way her body softened against it without being asked. He walked her toward the bed and kissed her as he went.
Deep. Unhurried. Full of quiet intent.
Her heart pounded against her ribs as if it wanted out of the cage and into his chest. She kissed him back without hesitation, lost in the heat of his mouth, the taste of the meal they had barely touched still faint between them, the reality of a locked door and no audience. Hotel light held them in a soft, unused gold. Time narrowed to the span of his steps.
Inside her, a storm rose and did not knock anything over.
