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"Allez!"
Applause exploded around us. The tempo accelerated.
The final sustained note rang out. The musician squeezed the bellows shut.
I lifted with my right hand, smoothly catching her falling weight and locking her against me.
The spin stopped cold.
Our breathing crashed together, rough and heavy. Ruby looked up, chest heaving like a dying bird, her cheeks blood-red, those amber eyes brimming with moisture and scattered light. She just stared at me like that, parted lips glistening wet, the corner of her mouth still curved with utterly unguarded triumph.
Something inside my chest caved in.
Fuck it.
My five fingers on her lower back clenched violently. My left hand cupped the back of her neck. I lowered my head and crushed down.
"Oh my God—"
Shrill wolf-whistles exploded around us.
Ruby froze, her jaw instinctively trying to close. But the next instant, her lower lip softened. Her scalding tongue reached up clumsily to meet mine.
Such a good, sweet girl.
My breathing grew harsh. I ignored the surrounding crowd and applause. My left hand threaded into her thick brown hair, wrenching her head to the perfect angle, my tongue driving deep to plunder every trace of black cherry wine and sweet gasps from her mouth. Her arms locked around my neck. She hung suspended in my grip, nearly weightless.
The kiss seemed to last an eternity.
When I finally released her lips, Ruby went boneless, forehead pressed into the hollow of my neck, gulping air.
I grabbed the canvas bag from the bench, half-carrying her with one arm, and pushed through the laughing, clapping crowd toward the black Peugeot parked on the corner.
The car door slammed shut, sealing out the world.
Dead silence inside.
The engine didn't start immediately. The instrument panel's blue-cold glow traced our profiles. Ruby curled into the passenger seat, face buried in her coat's high collar, chest heaving violently, eyes fixed on the dark windshield, lashes trembling hard.
I said nothing. Just reached across the center console and caught her left hand resting on her knee.
Five fingers forced into the gaps between hers. Ten digits locked tight.
Her fingers twitched faintly but didn't pull away. Instead, she tightened her grip in return, her small hand tangled inseparably with mine.
The car slid into the night, speeding all the way.
The interior temperature climbed to furnace heat. No one broke the silence, but every exchanged breath, every bead of hot sweat seeping between our interlocked fingers—it was all like a bowstring pulled to its limit, shrieking in the stillness before snapping.
The car plunged into Le Meurice's underground garage.
The elevator shot to the top floor. Metal doors slid open.
I pulled Ruby out, her heels tapping erratic, hollow sounds against the carpet.
Down the corridor. I shoved open the suite's heavy wooden door.
The instant the lock fell behind us, I threw my keycard onto the foyer table, my right hand clamping her waist, lifting her bodily off the ground and slamming her against the cold wood panel.
