When the final hour came at dawn—when it was time to leave Drake’s bed and say a public good-bye to him that morning alongside her family—she gazed up at him as he lay upon her, looking into her eyes. “I don’t want you to go.” She rested her hand on his cheek, rough with stubble beneath the soft flesh of her palm. “This week has been so perfect.” “Only because we didn’t get caught in bed together,” he said. “If I stay another day, we will most certainly be pushing our luck.” He kissed her tenderly on the mouth, and the lingering fever from her climax coursed through her blood as he withdrew from her depths. “You will come back to London though, won’t you?” he asked, as she rolled to the side. “I am here for another fortnight. I want to spend that time with you.” “I want to spend it with you as well,” she replied, but secretly wished he would ask for more. What about the future beyond those two weeks? It was taking every ounce of will she possessed not to cling to him and beg him not to leave, or to ask him to take her with him—but he had made it clear from the beginning that this was a temporary affair.
