Olivia's legs moved on autopilot as Viktor guided her up the stairs, his hand still firmly planted on her ass, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh through her white robes with each step.
Her face burned crimson. Her breathing came in short, anxious gasps. Her hands fidgeted nervously with the fabric of her robes, twisting and untwisting the material.
"I—I really don't think—" she started, her voice trembling.
"You think too much," Viktor interrupted smoothly, his thumb tracing circles on her hip.
They reached the second floor landing. The hallway stretched before them, lined with doors. Magical lights floated lazily near the ceiling, casting warm illumination.
Olivia's mouth opened and closed several times, her mind racing for something—anything—to say that might delay this inevitable moment.
"But—but I've never—I mean—the church always taught us that—that physical intimacy should only be—"
The words tumbled out in a rush, nervous and scattered.
