The silence stretched, filled with the scent of s*x and consequence. Professor Thorne’s gaze held her, that new, dark heat making her shiver. He didn’t speak. Instead, he slowly, deliberately, picked up her discarded sundress from the floor and held it out to her.
“Put it on.”
His command was quiet, but it brooked no argument. Elara’s hands trembled as she took the soft cotton, her movements clumsy as she pulled it over her head. The fabric felt alien against her sensitized skin. She stood there, exposed and messy under her dress, waiting.
Thorne walked back to his chair behind the massive oak desk and sat down. He steepled his fingers, his cool blue eyes analytical. “You misunderstand the terms of our arrangement, Miss Vance.”
Her throat tightened. “I… I don’t.”
“You offered ‘anythin
