I squared my shoulders, scooped up my purse, and pushed back into the dining room. Mr. Thorne stood as I approached. Despite my attempts at control, I could hear my heart in my ears as he stepped forward to meet me.
"I've settled the bill," he said. "Are you ready?"
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
He motioned for me to walk in front of him, and obligingly, I led the way to the front of the restaurant. Our coats were brought promptly, and I stepped outside with mine folded over my arm. From the doorway, I could see the Bentley waiting to whisk me back to the University of Maryland.
I didn't want to go.
Mr. Thorne's hand rested lightly on the small of my back as he guided me down the iron stairs. Even through the thickness of the satin blouse, his cool fingers burned against my flesh. As I reached the sidewalk, I couldn't stop myself. I turned into his arm, so that I was facing him, my body a hand's breadth from his.
From there, I could smell his personal scent, under the sandalwood and musk. I was excruciatingly aware of him, aware of the weight deep in my belly and the wetness between my legs. I ached for him. I couldn't move.
"Please," I said, the word escaping. I was trapped in his spell, and only he could release me.
"You do not know what you are asking for," he said, his voice rough. The hand that still rested on my back became rigid.
"I wouldn't care if I did, and you know it," I whispered, looking up into that beautiful, impossible face.
His head came forward then, his lips parting, and for one interminable moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. But abruptly, he shifted his hold on me and held me at arm's length as he turned his face away.
"And that," he said, "is exactly why I won't."
With that, he bundled me into the car, shutting the door with devastating finality. He stood on the sidewalk, his brow furrowed and his hands thrust into his pockets, as the Bentley rolled away. And I watched him until the car turned a corner and he disappeared from my sight.