Eliza hoped their neighbors—well the other people on their hotel room floor did not hear everything that had happened in their room. Oscar held her hand, as they walked down the hall and she felt like a teenager. It was such a sweet gesture for him to hold her hand, but everything that had happened on their hotel bed was not so sweet.
Their lovemaking had been raw, and every emotion they had every felt was expressed through it. The way he held her that said: if not always, right now you are mine. The way that she relaxed against him as if to say, am home. There was nothing gentle or quiet about their emotions.
Oscar almost pulled her down the hall, and the loud click clack of her heels through it was sure to rouse what neighbors had not already heard them in the hotel room. He pulled her into a stairwell and reminiscent of their time in Shanghai, he kissed her like their lives depended on it.
And at that moment it did.
She searched his body with her hands as if for a fever, and she panted when she pulled away from their kiss. He turned her face up to his,
“There’s no rush. I am here.”
She melted under his kisses after, the wall felt like summer and she could see it melt around her like she could see the heat rise from the grid on a summer day in the city.
They were on fire.
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