Page 115 of Over Her Dead Body

“Would you like another drink?” he asks.

“No.”

He looks at my hand, then back at me.

“What would you like?”

I tell him.

He asks for the bill.

Outside, the air is cooler than I expect. André puts his hand at my waist as we walk. I let him. At the corner, I look back.

A couple comes out of the bar.

No man with a phone.

“You’re cold?” André asks.

“No.”

I stop beneath the awning of a closed shop and kiss him.

He takes a second to catch up. Then his hand closes around my waist and he backs me against the glass.

There we are.

I fist a hand in his shirt and pull him closer.

When he lifts his head, he is smiling.

“Your hotel?”

“Yes.”

In the elevator, he kisses me before the doors close.

I press the button for my floor without looking. His mouth moves to my neck, and when I put out a hand to steady myself, he catches my wrist before my scraped palm hits the wall.

“Careful.”

He turns my hand over and kisses the inside of my wrist.

The gesture is unexpectedly gentle.

The rest of him isn’t.

At my door, the key card fails twice.

By the second attempt, André’s hand is at my waist, his mouth just below my ear.

“You’re not helping.”

“I can stop.”

“Don’t.”

The light turns green.