Chapter 363: I Would Certainly Like To Please You

Oliver didn’t pause his movements. His long fingers held her ankle with practiced precision, sliding the sapphire velvet heel smoothly onto her foot.

"The owner of the legs," he replied calmly, his raspy voice dropping into a low, deliberate register. He leaned in slightly, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against the delicate skin of her ankle just above the strap. "Without you, these legs wouldn’t exist, would they?"

Well, that was certainly one way to put it. April felt a tiny prickle of heat rise up her neck, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned back slightly against the bench, her eyes searching his composed face.

"Oliver, you didn’t answer my first question," April reminded him, her brow tilting slightly. "Did you... stay up all night?"

Oliver paused, his hands remaining steady on her calf. He took a long moment, as if calculating his next words with surgical accuracy, before lifting his dark gaze to meet hers through his wire-rimmed glasses.

"If I say yes," he murmured, his dark eyes unblinking, "will you sleep with me?"

"Of course," she answered without a second of hesitation.

A short, quiet laugh escaped his chest—a rare, genuine sound that softened his clinical aura completely.

"I’m not speaking simply about resting, Miss April," Oliver said softly.

He didn’t stand up. Instead, he leaned forward, shifting his weight until he rested his head directly on her lap. His arms slid around her waist, hugging her close against his chest as his dark hair brushed against the blue fabric of her dress.

Looking up at her from her lap, his raspy voice repeated the question, stripped of all clinical pretense:

"Will you let me have my way with you in bed?"

April’s breath hitched sharply in her throat. A sudden, violent wave of heat surged straight to her face, painting her cheeks in a deep, burning crimson. Her heart took a heavy, erratic thud against her ribs as she looked down into his intense, unyielding gaze.

That...

She gulped, her fingers instinctively hovering over his hair, entirely caught off guard by the sheer, unshielded hunger sitting beneath his quiet, dutiful doctor persona.

He began leaning up from her lap, his dark eyes never breaking contact with hers as he brought his face inches from her own. Oliver moved with a slow, deliberate grace, pausing just above her mouth before planting a light, surface kiss—a soft, tentative peck against her lips.

When April didn’t pull away, his breath hitched against her skin. He leaned in again, planting another soft kiss, then another, trailing them along her mouth until the quiet restraint shattered entirely.

Courageously letting his body act on the raw, unshielded desire he had kept hidden beneath his clinical composure, Oliver deepened the kiss. His hand slid up from her waist to cradle the back of her neck, his thumb resting over her jawline as he claimed her mouth with a deep, feverish intensity.

April felt her lingering hesitation vanish in the heat of his touch. Wrapping her slender arms around his neck, her fingers tangled into his dark hair as she kissed him back with matching, unreserved warmth.

The kiss lingered in the quiet warmth of the library, the rest of the world melting away into the soft hush of the room. Oliver’s hands remained firm and grounding against her neck, his pulse steady beneath the raw intensity of the moment.

April let herself melt into the heat, leaning her head back against the bench as her breath came in soft, uneven hitches. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she looked up at him, her dark eyes hazy and heavy-lidded.

"This isn’t a bed, though..." she whispered against his lips, her voice laced with a slow, teasing warmth that sent a shiver straight down his spine.

Oliver leaned in, his lips brushing hers once more as a low, quiet murmur escaped his throat.

"It certainly isn’t," he rasped softly, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. "So I can’t have things completely go my way..."

He paused, his breath catching as he looked down at her flushed face.

"But... I would certainly like to pleasure you. May I?"

April looked up into his eyes. His wire-rimmed glasses were slightly crooked from the feverish intensity of their kiss, but he hadn’t even noticed. All of his usual composure had completely shattered; his dark eyes were brimming with unshielded desire, a faint, dark flush dusting his high cheekbones as he waited for her permission.

A quiet, breathless thrill fluttered in her chest at the sight of the stoic doctor so completely undone by her presence.

"What do you want to do?" April asked softly, her fingers reaching up to lightly adjust his glasses, her voice a gentle, intoxicating dare.

Oliver didn’t answer with words.

Instead, his hand slid beneath the hem of her blue dress with quiet, deliberate intent. His long fingers traced up the smooth skin of her inner thigh, slow enough that she felt every inch of the movement. When he reached the edge of her underwear, he didn’t pause to ask again. He hooked his fingers into the delicate fabric and began easing it down.

April’s breath caught.

He pulled the panties past her hips, down her thighs, and off completely, setting them aside on the bench with the same careful precision he used when handling a human’s organ.

Then he gathered the soft blue fabric of her dress and pushed it up, baring her completely from the waist down.

April stared at him, stunned.

"...What are you about to do?"

Oliver looked up at her from where he still knelt between her knees. A rare, small smile touched his lips—soft, almost boyish, and completely at odds with the dark hunger in his eyes. He adjusted his slightly crooked glasses with one finger, then rested both hands gently on her thighs, his thumbs stroking slow, reassuring circles against her skin.

"I’ve studied a great deal about human anatomy," he said quietly, his raspy voice steady even as a faint flush lingered high on his cheekbones. "I am confident I can make you feel good."

His gaze held hers without wavering.

"Let me."

April’s throat worked as she swallowed. The clinical way he spoke only made the moment feel more intense—like he was about to perform something precise and devastatingly thorough. Heat bloomed low in her stomach. She managed a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Oliver’s smile deepened—just a fraction—then he leaned in.