𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐋𝐮𝐬𝐭 (𝐆𝐱𝐆)

{𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍} "𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐄𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫"

Hannah Blanchard

Her hands stayed professional, movements precise and calculated, but I could feel the slightest falter in her rhythm. I didn't have to look at her to know what she was thinking, her calm veneer cracking just enough to reveal the tension underneath.

The lines blurring more with every second. I let myself sink further into the cot, allowing a soft sigh to escape my lips as her hands worked over my muscles. The contact was borderline clinical, but there was no denying the heat that radiated between us.

She shifted her position, her body closer now, the scent of her light perfume mixing with the sterile smell of the infirmary. "You're... tense," she said, her voice steady but lower than before, almost as if she was speaking more to herself than to me.

I turned my head slightly to the side, catching a glimpse of her face. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, but her lips were parted, and I could see the slightest hesitation in her movements. "Long trip, lots of stress," I murmured, my voice soft, but I made sure it carried enough weight to draw her in further.

Ms. Moreau exhaled deeply, her hands pausing for just a moment too long, hovering over my lower back. "You should take it easy," she said finally, though there was a tightness in her voice, like she wasn't quite convinced of her own words.

I bit back another grin, enjoying the push and pull of the moment. "I'm sure you'll make sure I'm in good shape," I replied, my words deliberately laced with a double meaning.

Her hand hovered near the hem of my shorts, fingers brushing my skin ever so slightly. The brief touch sent a spark up my spine, and I knew she felt it too. She quickly pulled away, regaining her composure. "Hannah," she said, her voice a mix of warning and something else—something warmer. "I think you've recovered enough for today."

I pushed myself up onto my elbows, the sheets crumpling beneath me. "So soon?" I asked, feigning disappointment, though I could feel the pulse of excitement running through me.

Ms. Moreau took a step back, crossing her arms in front of her as if to create some sort of barrier between us. "Yes, I think it's best," she said, though her gaze flickered downward, betraying the thoughts running through her mind.

I stood up slowly, making sure to brush past her as I moved toward the door, lingering just long enough to let her catch the subtle scent of my perfume. "Thank you, Ms. Moreau," I said sweetly, my voice low and dripping with suggestion. "I'll be sure to let you know if I need... anything else."

Her eyes followed me, but she said nothing, her lips pressed into a thin line as if she was holding something back. I could feel her gaze on me as I left the room, the unspoken tension hanging heavy in the air behind me.

As soon as I was out of sight, I let out a soft laugh, pulling out my phone to send Celine a quick text. You wouldn't believe how easy this is going to be.

Her reply was almost immediate: Good luck, I already saw her watching you like a hawk. Try not to choke when you lose.

I rolled my eyes, typing back with a smirk. You wish.

I made my way through the courtyard, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the perfectly manicured grounds. St. Adelaide's was truly something else—every inch of this place screamed wealth, from the pristine marble statues to the perfectly trimmed hedges. Girls from both Crestwood and St. Adelaide's were milling around, laughing in their small groups, each one trying to act like they belonged at the top of the social hierarchy. It was almost amusing how stuck-up some of them were, like they couldn't imagine anyone here not being just as rich and entitled.