by Alexis Anne
“They’re at a conference in Boca. Can you believe it? Everyone left me at once. Well, except for you guys.” He shrugged.
I did not like the expectant look in his eyes. “Cock blocker,” I muttered, grabbing Esme’s hand as I fished out my keys. “You can stay for an hour.”
“Why? You two got plans? Something fun to do later?”
I let everyone in and Jeffry immediately went to my refrigerator. Two minutes later he’d assembled a sandwich and helped himself to a beer, all while Esme stood in the doorway.
“This is weird,” she finally said. “It’s weird right? Can we just say it and get it out in the open? This is weird.”
Jeffry stopped mid-chew and looked at me. “Me?”
“No Jeffry,” I groaned. “She means you and her and me. As in, you two dated and now we’re dating. It’s weird.” I probably still harbored feelings of guilt for the way I lusted after Esme while they were dating. That was the only logical explanation for my odd feelings.
“It’s not weird,” he repeated as he swallowed and took a swig. “Certainly not any weirder than the fact that Leo was with Hope.”
Esme gasped.
I groaned again. This night was . . . not going well.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Esme put her hands up and screwed her eyes shut. “Let me get this straight. We dated,” she waved between her and Jeffry. “Now we’re dating. But first you had sex with Hope, and now Jeffry and Hope are together?” She waved her hand around the kitchen. “This isn’t weird. It’s beyond weird.”
“Only if you decide to feel weird. I don’t feel weird,” Jeffry said.
“Can everyone stop saying weird? It doesn’t even sound like a word anymore.” And Jeffry was right. I didn’t want to feel this way and feelings were at least partially a decision. “We’re all adults here. Adults who’ve made choices, been respectful, and can continue to do so. Hope and I were a one time thing. No feelings were involved and I think of her as a friend or a sister. I’m pleased that she and Jeffry have chemistry and compatibility that is rare and special. Likewise,” I turned my attention back to my very beautiful girlfriend, “you and Jeffry went on several dates. You discovered that despite some initial attraction there was nothing more, unless I’m missing something?”
They both visibly stiffened, looked at each other like the very idea of sex was repulsive, and shivered. “No,” Esme said firmly.
Jeffry shrugged. “I’d be insulted by that response if the feeling weren’t mutual. In fact, I’m going to echo Leo’s sentiments and say that I care about you Esme, but in a platonic, brotherly way.”
“I care about you too.” She smiled at him warmly. “I’m glad you found someone who doesn’t make you nervous. I felt so bad . . . ”
I took her hand and wrapped her arm around my waist. “You don’t need to feel that bad. Jeffry’s a big boy.” One who apparently can’t be left alone unsupervised for more than twenty-four hours.
“Where is Hope anyway?”
“Something for work. All she’d tell me is that it was an investigative report and the less I knew the better. But,” he held up a finger as if he were Sherlock Holmes about to explain a mystery, “I know she flew to Nashville first and now she’s in St. Louis and plans to head to Boston on Friday. Then she’s coming home.”
Esme tensed against me. “Investigative report?”
“She’s a producer,” Jeffry explained. “You know, news?”
“Ah.” Then she kissed my cheek. “I’m going to drop my bag in your room and take off my shoes.”
Before she could pull away I grabbed her hips and pulled her against me. “Our room, darling.”
She hesitated then nodded. I watched her walk away, enjoying the sway until she was out of sight. Jeffry punched me in the arm. “I knew you two would be perfect for each other.”
Perfect. I felt like a part of me left the room every time she did and the ache wouldn’t stop until she returned. I rubbed my chest as I reached into the fridge for a beer. I waved for him to join my in the living room.
But his statement kept rattling around in my brain because he was right. Esme was perfect for me. I was content with my life and enjoyed the role I played. Taking the stigma away from sex was something I prided myself on. Helping another beautiful woman see the beauty in herself gave me pleasure. My entire existence felt built completely around that model because even at work my job was to help shepherd athletes in their careers, see their potential and ask for it to be valued. I saw this as my purpose in life and hadn’t really considered the idea that there was more for me.
Not until Esme threw everything I thought I knew into a tailspin. Now I no longer wished to merely guide, now I needed to participate, to be greedy, even to my own detriment. My brain had been completely bypassed by my heart—and to be perfectly honest, my dick—I gave no thought to consequences. She could ruin my life and break my heart as long as she gave me some of her time.
I knew that was reckless. I understood that it was dangerous. I also didn’t care because instinct dictated that I throw myself into the eye of Hurricane Esme and take my chances. Instead of a generic mission to do good in the world I now had a very specific mission to bring good into the life of one person. A woman who needed to be loved more than anyone I’d ever known.
“You’re really broody,” Jeffry grumped.
“Broody?”
He nodded. “Staring off into space with a frown. I kind of feel like you’re looking for a fight.”
A fight? Maybe. Part of me wanted to march out to the cars outside watching for Esme and pick a fight. I didn’t think anyone had ever stood up for her, drawn a line and demanded it not be crossed. She’d never had a champion. Instead she was her only support system. It wasn’t right. Someone with so much to offer shouldn’t be used. She should be celebrated. Worshipped.
“I was just thinking.” Thinking I’d never felt so needed. As if everything I’d done in my life was nothing compared to the journey ahead of me. “About Esme.”
Jeffry got one of those ridiculous grins. “She’s fantastic. I’m really happy that she makes you happy.”
I knew he meant that too. Even if I confessed the full extent of my relationship to Jeffry he wouldn’t hold a grudge. He was too practical. “I hope I make her happy, too.”
His smile faltered. “Leo, I’ve worked in the same building with her for a while, plus those dates, and never once have I seen her as relaxed as she is now. I don’t know if it’s the sex or just you, but you are definitely making her happy too.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “The sex?”
“Like you two haven’t had sex. You’re the master. I don’t have any data, but I’m assuming all those hours in bed have been put to good use. Therefore I’ve made the assumption you are very skilled in the art of sexual pleasure. Which, I’m sure, would put just about any woman in a good mood.”
“It’s more than the sex,” Esme said as she breezed past Jeffry and tucked into my side, her heels and jewelry gone. Then she nuzzled behind my ear. “Leo makes me feel safe.”
There were several beats of silence where my heart pounded in my chest and Jeffry was too stunned to make one of his trademark quips. It gave me time to absorb the enormity of her confession, feel the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the tremble of her hand on my thigh.
I cupped her face and whispered. “I’ll always keep you safe.” Then I brushed a kiss across her lips.
Jeffry cleared his throat loudly. “Not in front of the kids!”
Esme smiled and gazed up at me lovingly. It made me feel ten feet tall.
“I can kick him out,” I growled.
She shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And she sounded like she meant it, which made me feel even taller. “All right then. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Tell me about your breakthrough this week!” Jeffry sounded like a kid asking for candy. “Team Roughneck was all crazy from what I hear.”
It took me a m
oment to realize the question was directed at Esme, not me, despite the use of the word “team.”
She laughed and relaxed into my side again. “Oh, they were. The DNA recovered from the burial site was unexpected.”
“This is the noble burials in Germany?” he asked, leaning forward on his knees.
“That’s the one.” She glanced up at me to explain. “My lab is sent DNA samples from all kinds of archeological sites. In this case it was the burial of five nobles dating back five thousand years. Genetically only two of the nobles were of the same ethnic background.”
“Whoa . . . ” Jeffry whistled. “Big news for you guys.”
“It definitely fits the models we’ve built.”
And . . . I was lost. I normally didn’t mind. I let Jeffry and his friends babble like background music, but with Esme I wanted to understand. “Give me the middle school social studies version so I can follow along.”
“You really want to know?” She bit her lower lip as she waited for my answer.
“Very, very much.” As much as I wanted to know if she tasted different today and how she’d moan later once Jeffry left.
She seemed to read those thoughts in my eyes because she sighed. “Well, you saw a lot of it at the fundraiser. My research is building a map of human history. Before the Celts and the Aborigines, and the Tlingit, they came from somewhere else, brought their knowledge and bred with the people they encountered, they conquered and were conquered, they became the tribes and nations we know today. My job is to reach back in history, farther and farther, until we can trace the movements of everyone, everywhere, throughout time. It’s the way we’ll finally understand us. It’s the story of humankind.”
I kissed her because her passion was sexy as fuck.
“What was that for?” she breathed, blushing profusely.
“For being you. For turning me on. How did you wind up with this research anyway?” She might be building a map of history but I was building a map of Esme. I wanted to do the exact same thing, trace her journey through time, understand how she became the woman in my arms.
“Ancient genetics is like a puzzle.” Her eyes were so bright, so alive. The exact opposite of the dead fear that seemed to haunt her any other time. “It’s like the world’s biggest, most complicated puzzle. Like having a million upside down pieces and knowing you’re missing a million more, but trying to see the whole picture and piecing it together anyway.”
Her excitement was infectious. “And you enjoy putting this puzzle together?”
“Pffft,” Jeffry made a noise. “I need to interject here since you don’t understand all this genetic mumbo jumbo. I am brilliant, as is everyone on my team, but Esme is something different. She does what none of us can do.”
Her cheeks turned red so I gave her a nudge. “And what is that?” I tried to make my voice soft and full of the affection I felt towards her.
“She sees the bigger picture,” Jeffry continued. “Those of us in the lab, we get bogged down in the minutia, the details, it’s Esme’s job to do the opposite, to take the data we cobble together and feed it into the history of humanity. The puzzle she’s assembling isn’t the two-dimensional kind you put on table, it’s three-dimensional and extends back in time and across the face of the globe. Her depth of knowledge of languages, cultures, migration patterns is incredible. She’s going to change our understanding of history.”
No wonder Jeffry was attracted to her. Knowledge was porn to him, and, I was beginning to realize, me as well. The power she held in her mind was incredible, a resource for good, except when it was being used by her father.
Then she was simply being used.
I touched her cheek, brought her gaze up to mine, and whispered, “Your brilliance is beautiful and I won’t allow anyone to use you ever again.”
Her eyes flared with panic. “You won’t allow it?”
I realized my words sounded paternalistic, maybe even domineering. “You misunderstand me. I know that this is your life to live, your battles to fight, Esme.” I waited for her to digest my quiet words spoken only to her. Jeffry faded into the background. “But you’re no longer fighting them alone. I’m here to back you up, stand beside you, or clear the way, you just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. You don’t have to accept any fate you don’t choose because I’m right here.” I took her hand and placed it over my thundering heart. “Your days of being alone are over.”
She looked up at me with a combination of fear and adoration. Her dark eyes glistened. “Leo, you can’t promise that. You barely know me.”
“I don’t care.” I cut off the rest of her protest. I didn’t want to hear it. That brain of hers, while brilliant, could obviously make anything seem reasonable. “I want all of you Esme, I have from the moment we met. You make my world spin. I want your brain and your body and your heart. I don’t have a choice in this. I never have. I just want. And that want is quickly turning to need. I need you Esme. I don’t know why and I don’t care. It just is. So like it or not, I’m here and I need you so much and because of that I’ve gone a little mad.”
She blinked at me, her hands shaking as she skimmed my arm and shoulder. “At least we’re going crazy together.”
I kissed her swiftly. Took her mouth and made it mine. I massaged her tongue and tasted her lips with a growl. Somewhere in the background Jeffry made an uncomfortable noise and said something about letting himself out. I knew I needed to follow Jeffry and lock the door behind him, otherwise I wouldn’t feel safe with those agents and investigators waiting outside, but first I had to feel her. My hands roamed and her body responded. Her breath grew ragged and I grew hard.
“Wait, Esme. Just . . . thirty seconds.”
It hurt to pull back. It hurt even more to see her swollen lips and rucked-up skirt and know I was walking away on purpose. But once the door was locked and the security system was armed she would be in my bed.
And tonight wouldn’t just be sex. It wouldn’t even be making love.
Tonight was a promise.
One I intended to burn into her very soul.
Chapter 18
The entire concept of promising each other six months was genius. Gold. Brilliance. Really, it was my finest decision after falling for Esme in the first place. It took pressure off us and we both just fell into a relationship that was easy and necessary. She essentially moved in with me as if it were the most natural thing in the world because, I quickly learned, Esme wasn’t like most women. At least the women I knew. She didn’t want to redecorate my house. All she really wanted was space for her pots and pans. The woman loved to cook.
After visiting her house I understood her a lot better. Esme was an academic through and through. Her house was neither messy nor bare. It was stuffed with bookshelves covered in books. Her coffee table littered with science journals (that were tagged and highlighted.) She essentially lived in an extension of her office at the university—except for the kitchen.
That room could have been lifted from the centerfold of a fancy home decorating magazine. Every appliance was top of the line and the layout was designed for ease of use. Don’t get me wrong; it was as beautiful as it was functional. If there was a room she spent time thinking about, it was this one.
So she packed a few bags and moved into my closet, brought her pots and pans, and planted (yes planted) an herb garden out back. We were officially an old married couple and all it took was a week.
And yet she still held so much of herself back. In many ways she remained a mystery to me . . . which was how I found myself standing outside the door to a lecture hall at four in the afternoon. Esme taught three courses and I’d learned that this one in particular was one of the most popular on campus. Students fought over seats in the class and there was always a waiting list a hundred students long.
At least that’s what Jeffry told me when I asked. At first I thought maybe it was because the teacher was pretty. I certainly took more than one class in college because I tho
ught the professor was hot. But Jeffry laughed at me and told me to go listen.
He was right.
I was transfixed.
I almost wished I could enroll in her class and spend this hour with her three times a week. Yes, I was jealous of all three hundred people inside because they got to see this and be part of this experience.
She wore jeans to class. Jeans and science t-shirts with a black blazer or sweater, depending on the day. The first time I saw her leave for class she had to pick my jaw up off the floor. Then she explained that she reserved her dresses for when she was Esme. When she was Professor Brown she liked to be comfortable.
That’s exactly how she looked now, sitting on top of the desk at the bottom of the lecture hall, legs crossed beneath her as she grinned. There was a very lively debate taking place between two of her students about whether disease, war, or famine ultimately killed thousands.
“All right,” she laughed, holding up a hand to end the debate. “Let’s stop before there’s an actual war in the classroom.” There was lots of laughter as she hopped off the desk and began pacing. “The entire point of the exercise is to explore all the options without information bias. Of course we’re all still informed by our own experiences, shaped by our cultural norms. All of this will be evident next week when—”
The classroom erupted into cheers. I heard a few exclamations of finally and yes and oh my god!
“You didn’t let me finish,” she teased, waiting for everyone to settle down. She paused dramatically. “All of this will be evident next week when . . . you are given your keys.”
There was a lot more cheering and applause. Students clapped each other on the back and high fived.
Whatever these keys were, they were excited.
“But before you get your key you’ll need to turn in the final draft of your projects. Once the TAs have verified your completed project they will allow you to enter the lecture hall. No one will be allowed inside until this is verified. Your keys will be sealed. Do not open them. Everyone will open them together on Monday.”