XV

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Lauren peered out the window as the car rolled to a standstill and Andrew turned off the engine. She could see the dark façade of the hotel and the neatly trimmed greenery that lined the first floor balcony. Windows glowed invitingly, and people moved about inside like warm shadows.

Henry swizzled towards her on the leather seat. "Are you sure you want to?" he asked, his eyes staring intently into hers.

She pressed her hand to the car door to steady herself. "Yes," she said.

Henry nodded and clicked open the door of the Bentley and a blast of ice cold wind rushed in. Lauren gasped and pulled her coat tightly about her and tucked her chin into the neck. Henry was already on the pavement and she slid out after him.

"I'll call you tomorrow for pick-up," said Henry, leaning into the car to talk to Andrew before he banged his hand on the roof and shut the door. The car drove off into the night and suddenly Lauren felt a strange kind of fear come over her. She turned to look at Henry who was pacing back and forth, a few steps one way, a few back the other. He stopped and looked up at her. "Is this too much? Is it too soon?" he asked.

"I hardly think it's too soon," she said, half a laugh in the back of her throat.

Henry rubbed his chin and began to pace again. "No. No. I suppose you're right. But I don't want to...I wouldn't want...I mean, coming here, like this. Are we -"

Lauren laid her hand on his arm and, looking up at him, waited until she felt the tension dissipate from his body. "What's wrong?"

"Shit. I don't know." He raised his hands to his forehead, entwining his fingers in his dark hair. "I mean, I want to but -"

"You know what?" she asked, waiting for him to focus on her. "You were a whole lot sexier when you didn't care." She watched as he frowned at her, and then she laughed, delighted to see him smile back at her so widely that it looked as though his cheeks would split.

He grabbed her hand in his. "Right Miss Taylor, that's enough," he said, pulling her towards the entrance and through into the lobby. "Wait here," he said, directing her to a seat near an oversized ornamental birdcage. She watched him walk towards the reception desk, hardly able to believe that a man like him actually wanted her. Every inch of him looked expensive, elite. His clothes screamed wealth; his leather shoes, bespoke suit and navy cashmere overcoat. He had a maroon scarf wrapped about his neck.

Chatting to the receptionist, Henry looked to be back to normal, smiling and charming her. He had one forearm resting on the desk and one of his feet touched the floor only at the toe. His body was almost entirely still; he wasn't faffing about as he had been outside. Something, Lauren knew, had made him nervous, and she allowed herself to wonder whether it was the idea of being alone with her. She watched as he took out his phone and stared intently at the screen, his thumb rapidly scrolling down his messages. He looked uncomfortable, his lips tightly drawn together; but he clicked the phone off and slipped it back into the pocket of his overcoat and turned to look at her.

God, how she wanted him, she thought, as she watched him walking towards her. Had the drive to the hotel taken the spontaneity out of it? Would it have been better if they had made love on the piles of coats in Emily's bedroom? Somehow Lauren thought not. This was almost official: they were here together as two consenting adults. Or at least it would have been official if there weren't something nagging at Lauren. Why a hotel? Why not his house? It's not as if they were particularly far away.

He offered her his hand and she took it, standing up and following him towards the lift. A bellboy asked what floor and pressed the button, and Lauren watched as the indicator revealed what how close it was. Henry had let go of her hand, but his body was pressed so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of him, and she longed for it.

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