Chapter 13: Short Skirt, Soft Throat

  The moment Mira walked into the library, Lena’s control cracked.

  She was seated in their usual alcove, alone, her ptop open and forgotten. She’d positioned herself facing the entrance, not that she’d admit it—not even to herself.

  And there she was.

  Mira.

  She wore the skirt. That tiny, pleated bck one that brushed the top of her thighs like it didn’t know how to behave. She’d paired it with a simple cropped sweater—soft blue, slightly oversized, sleeves hanging past her wrists like she needed to be kept warm. Her hair was half up, half down, just messy enough to make Lena think of fingers tugging through it.

  Lena’s mouth went dry.

  Mira didn’t even realize. She never did. That was the worst part.

  Or maybe the best.

  She made her way over with a soft smile, swinging her bag off her shoulder as she slid into the seat beside Lena. Not across from her—beside. Like she’d learned now. Like she wanted to be within reach.

  “Hi,” she said, breathless from the walk, pushing hair behind her ear. Her bare thigh brushed Lena’s under the table.

  Lena blinked slowly.

  “You wore it,” she said.

  Mira looked down. “You told me to.”

  Lena’s hand flexed against the table.

  God, she was so obedient now. Like it was normal. Like it didn’t send heat straight down Lena’s spine to know she could just ask, and Mira would give.

  “I like when you listen,” Lena said softly.

  Mira looked up, face warming, smile shy. “I like when you tell me what to do.”

  Lena turned, really looking at her then. Mira’s knees were slightly parted. Her thighs were pale and smooth. She smelled faintly like shampoo and that faint sweetness Lena now associated with wanting.

  She didn’t touch her right away.

  She wanted to watch her squirm.

  Mira pulled out her notes. Tried to act like they were here to work.

  They weren’t.

  Lena let the silence hang as she reached out and slid a hand under the table. She rested it lightly on Mira’s bare thigh—innocent, at first. Just weight. Just warmth.

  Mira twitched. But she didn’t protest. Didn’t even gnce over. She just pressed her lips together and kept flipping through the notes, her hands just a little shaky now.

  Lena slid her hand higher. Just a few inches.

  Mira inhaled sharply.

  “You’re doing so well,” Lena murmured beside her. “So still. So quiet.”

  Mira’s thighs squeezed together. “I’m trying,” she whispered.

  Lena’s hand stayed still at the edge of that skirt.

  “Do you want more?”

  Mira nodded, her head tilted slightly, voice caught in her throat. “Yes.”

  Lena leaned in, lips grazing her ear.

  “Then you’ll have to be good for a little longer.”

  Mira whimpered softly, body tensing with want.

  Lena closed her eyes for a moment. She wanted to wreck her. To bend her over the desk and take her, to hear Mira sob into her sleeve just from being touched the right way. But they were in the library. They were still pretending to be normal.

  It made everything worse.

  Mira turned slightly, just enough to gnce up at her, and Lena saw it in her eyes—how close she was to cracking again. Not just submitting. Offering herself. Silently begging.

  Lena brushed her thumb along the inside of Mira’s thigh.

  “Later,” she said, voice dark silk. “I’m going to ruin you. But not here.”

  Mira shivered.

  And Lena, for all her control, was starting to forget why she should wait.