"What are you thinking about?"
Lance had calmed down by now. This era was actually quite open about such behavior; he remembered his predecessor had been quite a playboy. Handsome and a college student, he had never been short of female company at school. But after arriving in Hamlet, he understood the true nature of the world. Under such pressure, he had no time for such trifles, pouring all his energy into development and breaking the deadlock.
"I just wanted a kiss. Who knew you... you'd hurt me?" Tamara leaned against Lance. The flush on her face hadn't faded, and her earlier frenzy was replaced by a shyness, as if she hadn't quite recovered.
"You've just taken a bath. Your scent doesn't suggest it was just a kiss." Lance lowered his head to her neck, inhaling deeply and detecting a faint, elusive fragrance.
If this wasn't premeditated, it would be unbelievable. Is she still pretending?
"Would you have come looking for me if I hadn't turned up?"
