She remembered the elevator’s heavy metal death rattle and led Javi from the silence of the empty lobby to the stairs, worn stone steps that sloped in the middle with years of wear. She wanted to pass without a trace through the halls, as if to wake another guest would be to return them to real time, to end the magical moment she’d managed to pull like taffy from the last drawn out notes of the singer and Javi’s arms around her—in that moment with her like he hadn’t been for so very long—stretching sweetness and bending the moment back on itself, hoping it wouldn’t break. Javi keyed open the lock on their door and let her enter before him. He touched her shoulder as she passed him. His hand fell away when she didn’t stop, and she looked over her shoulder, wondering if he’d follow. He stared at her, desire naked on his face. Pain sang low and sweet in her chest until her breath hitched, and she opened her mouth to ask if he thought he’d made a mistake. No. She didn’t know if he’d said it aloud or just moved his lips to form the word before pressing his mouth to hers.
