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The man asks for ID and a card. I give both. He says something about the restaurant hours, the elevator, the floor. I hear enough. Not all.

Maggie is quiet. I glance at her. She’s looking straight ahead, but her breathing is not steady. One hand grips the strap of her bag. The other hangs at her side, inches from mine.

I turn my palm. Her fingers slide into it, no hesitation.

I close my hand around hers.

The clerk gives me the key cards. “Enjoy your stay.”

“We will,” Maggie says.

I look at her.

She doesn’t look at me. The little smile at the corner of her mouth is enough.

We reach the elevators without speaking. I press the button. The wait is unbearable. She stands beside me, looking at the closed doors. I stand beside her, looking at her reflection in the metal.

Her lips are swollen from my mouth.

My fault.

My favorite thing in the lobby.

The elevator arrives with a soft chime. Empty.

Thank God.

I get her inside, press the floor, and the doors close. The moment they do, I turn.

She’s already looking at me.

I don’t kiss her right away.

I give her one second. One last open space to step back into.

She steps forward instead.

That’s all I need.

I take her by the waist, lift her, and put her back against the elevator wall. Her legs go around me on instinct, and my cock presses hard between her thighs.

We both feel it.

Her head falls back against the wall. “Oh,” she breathes.

That sound goes straight through me.

I kiss her before she can say anything else. Her hands go into my hair. Mine hold her under the thighs, firm, keeping her up, keeping her exactly where I want her. The elevator rises under us. I barely feel it.

All I feel is her.

Her mouth opens, and I take it. Her hips shift once, helplessly, and the pressure against my cock turns brutal.

I groan into her mouth.

She does it again. Not helpless this time. On purpose.

My grip tightens. “Maggie.”