“Do you know what I’ve seen?” he murmured.
Her lips parted, and she shook her head.
“You
have been watching me.” She stood, the suddenness of the movement nearly knocking her chair over. “I should go,” she said. “This is highly irregular, and it’s late, and—”
“Oh, come now, Miss Cheever,” he said, rising to his feet. “Don’t fret. You watch everyone. Do you think I hadn’t noticed?”
He reached out and took her arm. She froze. But she didn’t turn around.
His fingers tightened. Just a touch. Just enough to keep her from leaving, because he didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want to be alone. He had twenty more minutes, and he wanted her to be angry, just as he was angry, just as he’d been angry for years.
“Tell me, Miss Cheever,” he whispered, touching two fingers to the underside of her chin. “Have you ever been kissed?”