VIVIAN
I set the laptop down on the edge of his desk, opening the file, trying to keep my voice steady. “See, this formula here isn’t calculated properly, and…”
“Mm,” he hummed, leaning over me, his hand braced on the desk, his body close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. “You’re right. That cell’s pulling from the wrong column.”
He sounded professional and calm. Like nothing was happening.
Except his other hand wasn’t calm at all.
It brushed against my knee under the desk, so light I thought maybe I’d imagined it. But then it stayed. His fingers spreading, sliding slowly up my thigh, inch by inch.
My words tangled in my throat. “O-oh… I see.”
“Good,” he murmured, his eyes locked on the screen as if the spreadsheet was all he cared about. “You catch on fast.”
But
