Page 4 of Johan.

The story sends shivers down my spine. It's one thing to hear about corporate espionage or academic competitiveness; it's entirely another to learn about such personal breaches of trust. “And now, he's trying to use me in a similar way,” I say, the realization dawning on me, making me feel both a pawn and an unwitting participant in Ludovic's long game.

Hannah's brow furrows, her eyes lifting to meet mine. “What do you mean?” she asks, her voice steady despite the flicker of concern in her eyes.

“According to my dad, Ludovic’s funding my department and seems particularly interested in doing an expedition to Oman,” I continue, watching her reaction closely. “I suppose to the region where the lost city of Ubar is rumored to be. It seems too coincidental, doesn’t it? His sudden generosity aligned precisely with the kind of research that could lead him to what he’s been obsessed with all these years.”

The implication hangs heavily between us. The air feels thicker as the pieces start to fall into place in Hannah's mind. “So, he’s using your department as a cover? To get to Ubar underlegitimate circumstances?” she asks, the realization dawning on her, painting a clearer picture of Ludovic’s manipulation.

“Most likely,” I confirm, nodding solemnly. “He’s essentially buying his way into my career, into my team. It feels like he’s mirroring what he did with Amelia, but this time, he’s making sure to keep everything appearing legitimate and above board.”

Hannah leans back slightly, absorbing the magnitude of Ludovic's scheming. “This is bigger than we thought,” she murmurs, her eyes narrowing in thought. “Your engagement to Astrid, the funding, it’s all part of a larger plan for him.”

My jaw clenches at the thought. “It seems like he’s plotting to ensure that I don’t stray from the path he’s set for me. By marrying his daughter and leading this expedition, I’d be too entangled to back out.”

Hannah nods, her expression grim. “That’s why we need to find those files. Amelia told me they might be stored on the shelves of his home’s office. I need you to keep him distracted during the engagement party so I can have time to go there and retrieve them.”

Shock hits me at her announcement. “What? Hannah, you'll be caught! There will be tons of people around.” The thought of her sneaking around Ludovic's office during such a public event sends waves of anxiety crashing over me. The risk is immense, not just of getting caught but of the severe consequences that could follow.

Hannah meets my gaze, her eyes resolute. “It's the only way. If those files are as important as Amelia thinks, we need them to stop whatever Ludovic is planning.”

The implications of our next moves become clearer with this revelation. We are not only retrieving stolen files but potentially disrupting a meticulously laid plan that spans decades. “We need to be extremely careful,” I caution. “Not just about theparty and getting the files but about every step we take after. He’s not just a treasure hunter; he’s a strategist.”

She nods, her expression set with resolve. “Then let’s make sure our strategy is better. If we can expose him and prove his crimes, perhaps we can free you from this engagement and his influence over your career.”

“That’s not the reason why I got engaged, though.” The words come out more defensively than I intend, but it’s essential she understands the truth isn’t so straightforward.

Holding my gaze with an intensity that seems to see right through me, she asks, “So why did you get engaged to her? Are you still going to lie to me and say you love her?” Her voice is steady, but there’s a slight tremor that suggests she’s bracing for an answer she might not want to hear.

Feeling the weight of our shared past and the tangled web of our present, my resolve weakens. I can no longer bear the weight of the lies between us. “She knows you are the one who stole the artifact at her exhibit, and she's ready to expose you to the dean and get you expelled. With the influence of her dad, you don’t stand a chance.”

Hannah’s face is one of shock as she registers what I said. “I can speak to the dean, first! Explain to him that I have kleptomania.”

“And how are you going to explain the fact I knew and did nothing? That makes me an accomplice.”

The words hang heavy in the air between us. Hannah takes a few steps back, her face a mask of hurt and disbelief as she processes the magnitude of what I've just revealed. Tears start to form in her eyes, and I can see the shock and realization colliding within her.

“So you did it to protect me?” Her voice is a whisper, laden with a mix of emotions.

I just nod, unable to find the words to express how deeply I regret the situation we’re in and how fiercely I wish I could change things. Before I can say anything more, she stands on her tiptoes and closes the distance between us, kissing me hard on the mouth. The kiss—desperate and full of the pent-up emotions we've both been holding back—is everything and more. I respond instinctively, deepening the kiss, allowing myself to get lost in the moment, in the feel of her lips on mine. As my tongue finds hers to stroke, a rush of emotions cascades through me. The initial shock of our lips meeting morphs into a consuming passion, a release of all the feelings that have been simmering beneath the surface. The air around us seems to crackle with the electricity of our connection, each kiss stoking the flames of a long-suppressed desire. Hannah's hands find their way to my neck, pulling me closer as if she can't get close enough, as if she can close the distance between our intertwined fates. My own hands roam to her back, pressing her body against mine, feeling the curve of her spine beneath my fingers. The sensation is intoxicating, overwhelming, driven by a mix of fear, longing, and fierce protectiveness. Our breaths mingle, quick and uneven, as the intensity of the moment consumes us.

The world outside—the risks, the schemes, the potential fallout—fades into a distant hum, insignificant in the face of what feels like an inevitable collision of our souls. The kiss is a silent battle, a balm, and a bond all at once, expressing things words could never capture. The heat between us builds, each touch and caress amplifying the urgency of our connection. It's as if we are trying to reassure each other through this kiss, affirming that no matter what happens next, this connection is real, it's ours, and it can’t be dictated by any external forces. It’s a moment of pure truth between us, raw and unguarded.

As we reluctantly part lips, we are left breathless, our foreheads resting against each other, our eyes locked. Theintensity of our gaze mirrors the intensity of our kiss—a profound understanding that what we share is deep, complicated, and indelibly etched into who we are. The reality of our situation might be daunting, but in this moment, we've found our truth, and it’s something we both know we'll fight for, no matter the odds.

As our breaths begin to settle, the lingering closeness only heightens the urgency between us. I look into Hannah's eyes, ablaze with a mixture of desire and defiance—the same fire that I've always admired in her. Without a word, drawn by a magnetic pull we can neither deny nor escape, our lips crash together once more, this time with a reckless abandon that speaks volumes of our long-suppressed yearnings. My hands are eager as they roam her back, tracing the contours that I've memorized from our weekend together, now felt up close with a fervor that sends shivers through us both. Her fingers thread through my hair, pulling gently, a move that deepens our kiss and sends a wave of warmth coursing through my body. The taste of her lips is intoxicating, a perfect blend of familiarity and discovery that drives me to want more, to explore further, so I guide Hannah back against the nearest shelf.

The books behind her barely protest the collision, a silent witness to our heated embrace. The solid feel of her pressed against the cool, hard surface only intensifies the sensation, grounding our connection in the reality of the moment, tangible and undeniable. Hannah’s hands roam down to my chest, her touch setting every nerve alight. With deliberate urgency, she goes further down until she deftly unzips my jeans, pushing them down along my boxers to free me. Her fingers brush against my cock, sending shivers down my spine and igniting a fire within. Then, with my hands reaching under her dress, I slowly pull her panties down to her feet, and she steps out ofthem. I pin her gently but firmly, my body pressing into hers, leaving no space for doubts or hesitations.

Our kisses grow more fervent, more desperate, as if each one could be our last. The thrill of the forbidden, the danger of being discovered, only adds to the intensity. My mind races, aware of the risks and the potential consequences, but my heart overrules it all, driven by a deep, undeniable need for her. The cool, hard books press into her back, a stark contrast to the heat between us. Every touch, every kiss, is a rebellion—a declaration that, at this moment, we belong to no one and nothing but each other.

With a swift, fluid motion, I lift Hannah’s legs and wrap them around my hips. She pushes her dress up, and I angle the tip of my cock towards her opening before thrusting inside her. She gasps at the feel of me but doesn’t protest.

“I missed this,” I tell her between muffed breaths.

In response, Hannah moans out, “Me too. God, me too, Johan.” Her breathing quickens as I roll my hips into her.

Each thrust draws a wave of pleasure. Her scent, her taste, the warmth of her skin, and the feel of her bare flesh pressed against mine fill my senses. It is everything I want, and all that I never knew I needed. The world around me fades, and all that matters is Hannah and how her muscles clench around me. As my rhythm builds, my hips piston faster and faster, a perfect, fluid movement guided by instinct and desire. A rush of pleasure surges through me. My mind fills with a glorious, incandescent bliss, and my whole body shivers with rapture. Still, I can’t let go, can't let up. I want to drag this moment out as long as possible, bleeding every second for all it’s worth.

A sharp cry escapes Hannah’s throat. She grasps the edge of the shelf behind her, her knuckles turning white. “You have no idea…” She pants, her breath warm and sweet against my face, “No idea what you're doing to me.”

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