He tilts his head, his voice low. “Comfortable, baby?”
“Yes,” I whisper, keeping my gaze forward even as my pulse thrums, sharp and unsteady.
A pleased noise rumbles in his chest. “Good.”
I force my attention on the documentary. The crisp narration details financial misdeeds, regulatory failures, greed-fueled decisions that led to ruin. I listen. I take in the words. But comprehension is fleeting.
Because Nathaniel moves again.
Now, his palm rests on my thigh, just above my knee. It seems casual, but nothing about Nathaniel ever is.
His fingers spread, the heat of his touch seeps through my skirt, sinking into my skin, intome. His grip is firm, but not forceful.
He flexes his fingers—a gentle test, pressing just enough for me to feel him, to remind me he’s there. As if I could forget. Thepressure is light, a suggestion more than a demand. But I know better. With Nathaniel, every touch has intent.
My legs are crossed, a natural barrier. He nudges the side of my knee. Not enough to force, just enough to ask.
And instinctively, I give in.
He shifts beside me lazily, like nothing is happening. But Ifeelit. He’s so close to me now. The lean of his body, the press of his shoulder against mine. Warmth radiates from him, enveloping me—suffocating, in the best way.
Then his fingers start moving.
A slow trail up my thigh, savoring every inch. My skirt rides up with his touch, sending sparks through my bloodstream.
He’s waiting. Giving me time to stop him…or to surrender.
I know that the former is the right move. We’re surrounded by classmates with our professor mere feet away. I should push his hand away.
But I don’t.
Instead, I sit perfectly still as the air between us thickens. Tension coils in my body, wrapping around my lungs and settling in the space between my legs.
I let him remind me that he always gets what he wants—and right now, he wantsme.
His breath is warm against the shell of my ear. “You had such an eventful morning…” His voice is casual, almost conversational, but I recognize the razor-thin edge beneath it. “Did you enjoy yourself, baby?”
A shiver rolls through me—not just from his words, but from the way his knuckles brush the bare skin of my inner thigh. Cool fingers against heated flesh.
“First Landon,” he continues, his tone mild, deceptively light. “Then Adam…” His fingers slide higher. “I bet they savored every second with you.”
He knows. Of course he does.
But that realization is quickly overridden by a more urgent one—somehow, without any resistance or protest on my part, his hand has slipped under my skirt entirely.
His touch is unhurried, trailing a slow, maddening path up my inner thigh. I tense, a silent plea, but I don’t stop him.
He chuckles under his breath. A sound that says he already knows how this will end.
“Of course they’re drawn to you,” he drawls. “They can’t help it. You walk through this world like something untouchable, and”—his fingertips skim dangerously close to my pussy, gliding along the crease where my thigh meets my panties, just barely grazing the fabric—“they’re fools enough to think they deserve a piece of you.”
He applies the lightest pressure, tracing the slit of my pussy through the thin cotton, andgod.
Arousal pools, hot and liquid, betraying me in an instant. My fingers dig into my thighs, fighting the primal urge to press them together, to seekmore.
From the corner of my eye, I catch his smirk. He feels it, the evidence of my surrender, the proof of the effect he has on me.
Nathaniel exhales, amused. “But they don’t, Olivia.” His voice drops, rich with satisfaction. A slow, rhythmic drag of his fingers, designed to drive me to the brink. “They’re not worthy. They don’t know how to revere you like you deserve. They look at you and see something pretty to chase.”
