Chapter 348: A Direct Man

Oliver blinked, the shift in tone catching his hyper-analytical brain completely off guard. "What is it?" he asked, his shoulders relaxing by a fraction as he instinctively latched onto the prospect of a medical issue—a domain where he was king.

Her lips curved into a wicked, knowing smirk.

"It’s these shoes," April said smoothly. With effortless flexibility and the added height of the heels, she hooked her leg up, resting her slender ankle directly over his broad thigh as she leaned back against the desk. The fabric of her emerald dress pulled taut over her leg, displaying the endless line of skin ending in the crystal-clear acrylic heel resting mere inches from his lap.

Oliver froze. His breath hitched violently in his throat as his eyes glued themselves to her foot resting on his leg.

"I like them so much I can’t not wear them," April murmured, her heel pressing just a fraction firmer against his thigh, sending an electric shock straight through his tailored trousers. "Will you get me something similar later? Or better yet... will you take me to get them?"

She needed to cement his trust, to show him that she was actively inviting him into her space. She was confident that he wasn’t just obsessed with her legs as an abstract anatomical experiment—he liked them because they were hers. If he had a general fetish for legs, she was certain he would’ve been fixated on the legs of his patients up till this point, but he wasn’t.

And besides, April had already prepared her mind for the inevitable. It was no secret that once a man in her Client Tab reached the 100% threshold, he would crave something far more intimate, just like Nat, Alexander and Xavier before him. Well, they were probably already craving it way before the 100% but that precedent cemented their feelings.

If only his trust value had been a pure, unblemished Loyalty Value like Samuel’s, she thought fleetingly, completely oblivious to the fact that her affairs were currently starving and torturing her poor High Steward to the brink of insanity.

Still, Oliver is handsome, and immensely capable. Hopefully, his body is just as impressive, April mused, her eyes trailing down his broad chest and broad shoulders.

Oliver caught that look. He wasn’t blind to the sudden heat flickering in her pupils—a look of pure, unapologetic female desire staring down at him.

"Miss April," Oliver croaked, his raspy voice cutting through the thick silence.

"Mm?"

"I would like to believe I am not misinterpreting the data," he began, his fingers twitching over his knee, mere inches from her ankle, "but you appear to be... interested in me. Is there a specific outcome you desire from this interaction?"

April pretended to think for a moment, tilting her head as if weighing a complex equation. Then, she flexed her ankle, her heel digging a little harder into his thigh but not hard enough to make him wince.

"Your honesty," she purred.

"About?"

"My legs," April said softly.

Oliver flinched as if struck.

The clinical mask he wore so desperately cracked into a thousand fragile pieces. The pink on his ears bloomed into a deep, dark flush that stained his entire face and neck.

"What do you think about when you look at them?" April whispered, leaning closer, her voice a sultry, irresistible trap. "When you hold them... what do you imagine?"

Oliver swallowed hard, his throat working as he tried—and utterly failed—to construct a scientific defense. His eyes darted from her face down to her foot resting against his lap, the raw, pent-up desire he had locked behind surgical precision threatening to break its gates.

"I imagine..." Oliver rasped out, his raspy voice dropping into a low, rough murmur that sounded entirely unhinged. "I imagine... how seamlessly they would wrap around my waist."

April’s eyes widened slightly, a sudden, burning flush blooming across her cheeks. For all her calculated charm and playful teasing, she hadn’t expected the refined, hyper-clinical surgeon to drop such a staggering, unfiltered line with zero hesitation.

He’s so direct.

Before she could pull her leg back to recalibrate her defense, Oliver’s fingers clamped firmly around her ankle. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was unyielding, holding her leg pinned over his broad thigh.

Slowly, deliberately, he leaned down.

His warm lips pressed a soft, lingering kiss against the delicate bone of her ankle, right above the clear strap of the acrylic heel. A sharp, involuntary shiver traveled straight up April’s spine, her breath catching in her throat.

Oliver didn’t stop there. With a slow, reverent pace that mirrored the precision of a surgeon, his lips trailed upward against the smooth skin of her calf, leaving a burning path of feverish heat in their wake.

His dark eyes flicked up to meet hers through his wire-rimmed glasses—raw, breathless, and completely unraveled—as he reached her knee, pressing a firm, deep kiss directly against the soft curve.

April swallowed hard, her pulse hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Just why was this moving so fast?!

Yes, she intended to tempt the man, but she didn’t expect him to give up his restraint completely and go this far.

"Oliver—" April croaked out, her raspy voice lacking its usual smooth authority as her fingers dug into the edge of the dark wood desk behind her.

"The empirical evidence is conclusive, Miss April," Oliver rasped against her skin, his thumb caressing the back of her knee while his mouth hovered inches from her thigh. His raspy voice was heavy, thick with a desperate, pent-up obsession that made her mind spin. "My clinical restraint has been thoroughly compromised. And I have zero intention of re-establishing it."

He tightened his grip on her ankle, pulling her just a fraction closer as he stood up from his armchair, his tall, broad frame towering over her as she remained perched against the desk.

In her peripheral vision, a sleek, translucent blue System panel flickered softly into existence, glowing with updating metrics:

[Client Tab Activity]

— Slot 4: Oliver Baxter [Trust Value: 92%]

(Massive Increase / High Trust Threshold Reached)

April’s eyes glinted as she saw the jump. He hadn’t completely broken through to the full hundred percent mark just yet—not like she expected it to—but ninety-two percent was a massive leap. The clinical barrier he had spent a lifetime building was officially crumbling, and the finish line was well within her reach.

Oliver leaned forward, his hand sliding up to rest against the small of her back, his dark gaze locked onto her flushed face with an intensity that rivaled the others.

"You asked what I imagine," Oliver whispered, his breath warm against her cheek as he held her gaze, refusing to let her look away. "Allow me to demonstrate."