Page 72 of Johan. (Van Den Bosch #8)

“He was here in England, just hiding,” Sir Gregory responds, his eyes narrowing as if recalling the complexities of the case.

He pauses, glancing around once more before continuing.

“The wife is in Morocco, and apparently, she informed their daughter that Ludovic was with them too, most likely as a cover-up.”

The revelation hangs in the air between us, a heavy silence filling the space. I can see the gears turning in Johan's mind as he processes the information. The festive ambiance of the event seems worlds away from the gravity of the situation Sir Gregory has just described.

Johan then adds, his voice low and contemplative, “Knowing him as I do, he knew the police were coming for him. I'm sure he's got everything figured out, lawyers, destroyed evidence…”

Sir Gregory’s lips form a thin line, a mixture of determination and resolve in his eyes. “Maybe, but we've got you guys,” he counters, placing a reassuring hand on Johan's shoulder. “Professor Amelia and Dr. Angela are ready to testify against him in court. He’s got his days counted.”

Johan and I nod in approval, a silent agreement that we will see this through to the end. Sir Gregory gives us a final, encouraging look before turning and making his way back into the crowd. The weight of the situation lingers, but so does a renewed sense of purpose.

Johan turns to me, a hint of frustration in his eyes. “Well, if this isn’t odd that Nina’s in Morocco exactly when the police arrested her husband.”

“Maybe I should speak to Astrid and try to make amends. Then she might tell me the truth about her involvement in her dad’s scheming,” I suggest, feeling a pang of uncertainty.

Johan shakes his head, unconvinced. “Don’t worry, baby, this is between the university, the prosecutors, and the Goschens. Nothing to do with us anymore.”

Before I can try to convince him, Johan takes one step closer, pulling me against him. The suddenness of it causes me to gasp. He leans in, his voice a low whisper that sends shivers down my spine. “I’m gonna have to go and mingle a bit, but afterward, we can go somewhere…”

His words, laced with promise, make me feel warm all of a sudden. I nod, unable to speak, the anticipation building within me.

Johan’s eyes hold mine for a moment longer, a silent communication passing between us, and then he releases me, turning to engage with other guests. I watch him move through the crowd, his charisma drawing people in, and I feel a mix of admiration and longing.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady the rush of emotions. The room around me buzzes with excitement, but my thoughts are tangled with Johan and the unresolved issues with Astrid. The persistent voice urging me to understand her side remains, but for now, I let it rest.

As I move through the exhibition, admiring the intricate artifacts and engaging in light conversation, I keep glancing at Johan. Each time our eyes meet, the connection between us feels electric, charged with unspoken words and promises.

Johan moves to speak with other faculty and donors, his charm and intellect drawing them in. I watch him, feeling a wave of desire. His confidence and the way he holds himself make my heart race. I bite my lip, memories of our intimate moments flooding back.

Finally, the event begins to wind down, and Johan makes his way back to me.

He takes my hand, his touch sending warmth through me.

His fingers intertwine with mine, a silent promise in his grip.

The lingering scent of champagne and polished wood adds to the ambiance, the murmurs of guests fading into the background as the room empties.

“Ready to go?” he asks, his voice soft but filled with intent. His eyes lock onto mine, and I feel a thrill run through me.

“Depends where…” I respond, a teasing smile playing on my lips. The anticipation crackles between us, tangible and electric.

He steps closer, his body heat radiating towards me. “To a place where I can make all your wishes come true…” His words are a whisper, a promise that makes my heart race. He leans in, his breath warm against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Tell me, sweetheart, what do you want?”

I bite my lip, feeling the rush of desire building inside me. “All I want is to feel you.”

His eyes darken with desire. “You always know how to make an archaeologist lose his composure,” he replies, his voice husky and full of longing. He leans in even closer, his lips brushing against my ear. “Let’s go, then.”

He takes my hand again, guiding me through the dimly lit corridors of the museum. The sound of our footsteps echoes off the marble floors, each step heightening the anticipation. The soft glow of the overhead lights cast shadows that dance across the walls, adding to the intimacy of the moment.

We reach the archive section, a secluded room filled with rows of ancient texts and artifacts.

The scent of aged paper and leather fills the air, creating an atmosphere that is both mysterious and alluring.

Johan pulls me close, his hands sliding around my waist, drawing me into the warmth of his embrace.

Our breaths mingle as we kiss passionately, his lips soft yet insistent.

I can feel the heat radiating from his body, a magnetic pull that draws me closer.

His hands trace the contours of my body, sending waves of electricity through me.

The friction of our clothes adds to the intensity, each touch and caress heightening the connection between us.

His fingers find the small of my back, pulling me even closer, and I can feel every curve and muscle through the fabric.

The scent of his cologne, woodsy and rich, fills my senses as his lips travel down my neck, a gasp escaping me.

The sensation sends sparks of pleasure through my entire being.

My hands roam over his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt.

The tension of the day melts away, replaced by a consuming desire that takes over every thought.

Johan’s touch is both tender and urgent, his hands exploring as if memorizing every inch of me.

I can feel his heart beating against mine, a steady, comforting rhythm amidst the storm of our passion.

His breath is warm against my skin, and every kiss, every touch, ignites a deeper yearning within me.

“I love you,” he whispers against my lips, his voice raw with emotion.

“I love you too,” I reply, my heart swelling with the intensity of our connection.

He gently but firmly backs me against the mahogany library table that rests in the center of the room, the cool surface contrasting sharply with the heat of our bodies.

His fingers deftly slide the straps of my dress off my shoulders, each touch sending shivers down my spine.

As his lips trail lower, I arch into him, my hands tangled in his hair.

The rustle of our clothes falling to the floor is the only sound, apart from our ragged breathing.

Johan lifts me onto the table, the sense of urgency building between us.

I tug at his suit jacket, and he shrugs it off in one swift motion.

His skin is warm under my touch, muscles taut and quivering with restrained desire.

My dress slides up as he pushes me back, his fingers skimming my thighs, making my breath hitch.

The cool air hits my skin, goosebumps rising in its wake.

With a quick flick, he unzips my dress, and it falls away, leaving me in nothing but my panties.

His mouth is on me, his kisses scorching a path down my body.

I shiver with anticipation as he moves lower, his hands sliding my panties down and off.

The cold air hits my exposed skin, and I feel a thrilling vulnerability.

The scent of our arousal mingles in the air, heady and intoxicating.

Johan kneels before me, his eyes locking with mine as he spreads my legs.

The anticipation is almost unbearable. Then, his mouth is on my clit, and I can’t suppress my moans.

His tongue moves with a skill that drives me wild, each stroke bringing me closer to the edge.

My hands grip the edge of the table, my body trembling as waves of pleasure crash over me.

The wet, intimate sounds of his mouth on me only heighten my arousal.

“Tell me what you want,” he growls, the vibrations against my skin sending another shudder through me.

I can barely form words, my head swimming with desire. “I want to come,” I gasp, my back arching. “I want you to make me come.”

His tongue moves faster, circling and flicking my clit. Johan clearly wants to make this last, each second, each caress, making the intensity stronger. He is my world, his actions, expressions, voice, everything is as it should be. “Please,” I beg, my voice strained.

As if on cue, I feel the dam about to break, my muscles clenching, tears forming in the corners of my eyes, and my vision blurs.

“Don't stop, oh please,” I whimper, and with another gasp, I climax. Johan keeps his mouth there, sending me into overdrive. My toes curl, and my legs quake under his hands. I scream out, one hand flying to his short hair and clutching it tightly. With my senses restored, Johan’s tongue laps at my pussy, lapping up every ounce of my orgasm.

Then he's standing, wasting no time, undoing his belt and pushing his pants to the floor. I'm still quivering as he approaches me, gently putting a hand between my breasts and pushing me back until I'm lying flat on the mahogany desk.

Even now, a breath away from him being inside me, his hand curls around my hip, taking me in with just as much reverence as he has every single time.

Like he can't believe this is all really happening.

A tender mix of affection and frantic want courses through me at the same time, my heart feeling ready to burst. All because of him.

"Make love to me?" I ask, brazen, unafraid, and drowning in how much I need him.

“Like this?” He positions himself at my entrance, the blunt head of his cock sweeping over my clit in the process. My gasp is answer enough.

Then he’s sliding in, and I’m so wet from the way that he just made me come with his mouth and tongue that I’m more than ready, my hips tilting until he finds the spot that makes stars shine behind my closed eyelids.

There's a desperation to us here, his mouth covering mine, tongue claiming me.

A fever spreads from where we are joined, my temperature flaring as he strokes into me.

I'm a babbling mess of moans and pleas by the time his hand dives between us, finding the tight knot and rubbing it.

It's not uncommon for Johan to force me to come two or three times, but right now, my entire body is strung tight as I try and fail to muffle myself against his shoulder.

“Not yet,” he warns, sensing I'm close. I want to cry as he denies me once or twice; each time, the pressure increases, the need overwhelming. “Wait.” With a well-practiced motion, he tweaks my nipple, giving me the last little bit I need to break apart with a feral howl.

With a final, deep thrust, Johan shudders against me, his release triggering my own.

I cry out, the pleasure washing over me in powerful waves.

He collapses against me, both of us breathing hard, hearts racing in unison.

The mingled scent of our exertion and satisfaction fills the air, grounding us in the reality of our connection.

For a moment, we just lie there, entwined, basking in the afterglow. Then, he lifts his head, his eyes soft and filled with love. “I never want this to end," he says, his breath still ragged.

“Me neither,” I whisper back, running my fingers through his hair. “Let's stay like this forever.”

But forever lasted five minutes. As we compose ourselves and return to the grand hall, the weight of the day settles over me.

The discovery, the revelations about Astrid, and the arrest of Ludovic all swirl in my mind.

I know I need to talk to Astrid to understand her side and see if maybe she deserves another chance.

Johan senses my contemplation and squeezes my hand. “Whatever you decide, I’m here for you.”

I smile, leaning into him. “Thank you, love.”

The future feels uncertain, but with Johan by my side, I’m ready to face whatever comes our way. The museum, filled with echoes of the past, now holds the promise of our shared future, a future we will build together, one filled with hope, love, and understanding.