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Chapter Three

North Carolina didn't just have hot days. It had hot nights. Daphne found herself sleeping in nothing but a sports bra and underwear most nights.

Well, most nights since the theater date.

It made it easier when she kicked off the covers in the middle of the night after a vivid dream. Very vivid dreams.

Not unlike the one she was having now. The one where Simon's impossibly full lips coasted over the front of her hips and down the inside of one thigh. She could feel the warmth of his breath in her skin, the wet glide of his tongue as it worked back up. Strong hands stroked up her sides. Hers gripped the back of his neck.

He crawls back up her body, his mouth leaving a damp path as it went. It met hers in a deep, scorching kiss. His tongue met hers, and she arched up to press her breasts into him. His chest hair rubbed over her nipples, working them into even stiffer peaks.

Her legs shifted against smooth, cool cotton sheets. And yet, they weren't providing the refuge from the heat of his body she needed. She was burning up. She was going to actually catch fire.

And then she woke up.

And she was just as hot and achy awake as she had been in the dream. Just like every other day since Friday.

She glanced around her room. She had thirty minutes before she actually had to be up doing anything. No messages were waiting for her response. She hated that she was thinking of Simon this often. It was one simple kiss. She'd been kissed many times before. Nothing special. But this kiss was consuming her mind.

Not to mention, she had a date with a very attractive man on Saturday night. One very much not named Simon. He was light and happy where Simon was serious and brooding. Both devastatingly handsome in completely opposite ways. Things with Friedrich were just much simpler. She remembered their conversation on Monday at work.

He'd entered her office quietly and stood in front of her desk. He looked so all-American in his jeans and blazer. "So, this thing with you and Simon. Is it serious?"

"Not at all," Daphne had answered, and entirely truthfully. It wasn't serious at all. It wasn't real at all.

"Good." One of those charming grins appeared on his face. "I'll see you Saturday then. Meet you at the restaurant at 7?" He scribbled on a piece of paper sitting free on her desk. "That's the address of the restaurant and my number. Use it whenever. I'll see you then."

Daphne sat up in bed. The perfectly nice, perfectly attractive man had asked her out, had been very gentlemanly about it, and yet she was having sexy dreams about the one man she really couldn't have every night.

Sex had never really been a big thing for her. It was fine. She usually had an orgasm. But it never blew her mind. It rarely made her say "I need more". These dreams were figments of her imagination, and reality almost certainly wouldn't live up to them even if she did entertain the idea of doing it for real. These dreams were pointless, and she was determined to make them stop.

It was way too early for this bullshit. Simon heard his phone ringing angrily at him, waking him up. And of course it was Anthony. "Bassett! How are you, dear friend?"

"You're too excited, Bridgerton. My eardrums can't take it." Simon pushed himself upright in the bed.

"Up entertaining a lady last night?" Simon could hear the teasing in his friend's voice.

"No." More like up late at night trying not to think about a woman who was driving him crazy. He was Simon Bassett, he didn't get worked up over women—let alone after just a kiss. There was one girl at university that Anthony said had him pussywhipped. Simon didn't agree, but even then, it had been nothing compared to the borderline obsession he was feeling now.

Daphne was on his every thought. It was maddening. She wasn't all that special. Plenty of women had eyes that deep and subtle blue. Skin that peaches and cream was a dime a dozen. Her plump lips with that cute little cupid's bow…okay, he had to admit those weren't everywhere.

Really, she wasn't anything special.

"Whoever she is, I'm excited to meet her." Anthony's voice sounded too gleeful now. "She has you way too on edge."

"I'm merely already exhausted by the many students who take my classes who do not care about classics at all." Simon rubbed a hand over his face. It's not a lie. But it is the easiest way to keep Anthony from finding out Simon had been up late dreaming about licking his sister all over.

"Ah, yes, those rotten eighteen-year-olds. How dare they not want to spend their day finding out how trade worked at the agora?"

"Shut up." Anthony's ribbing was much better when he was awake. And when he had something to rib back. Being the butt of the joke was not his idea of fun. "Unlike you, my job depends on whether or not they care about it."

"Yes, you really need the money."

"I'm hanging up now." Simon pulled the phone away from ear.

"Wait!" Anthony's voice came through the speaker, and Simon reluctantly lifted it back up. "You should plan on a trip back home this summer."

"I was already coming home over the summer, Bridgerton."

"No, I mean, you need to come back. You remember my sister Francesca? She lived with our aunt in Bath for a while and used to visit me at school." That piqued Simon's interest.

"Of course. Cute as a button little kid. How old is she now?" He did some quick maths in his head. The siblings being named alphabetically did help him out. Anthony was twenty-nine. Daphne was twenty-three. Francesca couldn't have been more than twenty.

"She's twenty." Simon, now pretty much fully awake, gave himself a mental high five. He did love being right. "And she's getting married."

"Married?" The word usually made Simon break out in hives. But it didn't feel quite so dirty coming out of his mouth this time.

"She met some Scottish bloke at university, decided she wants to settle down." Now it was borderline disgust in Anthony's voice. The man didn't just try to control Daphne's life, he was all over all of his sisters. Francesca going to university in Scotland was already aggravating to him, Simon could only imagine how close Anthony's skull was to exploding with the news that she was getting married.

"So, why do you need me? I haven't seen Francesca in almost a decade, I can't imagine she wants me at her wedding." And he had, generally speaking, no interest in ever attending a wedding.

"I need you with me to make sure this John fellow is sufficiently aware that I can and will make his life hell should he do anything to hurt my sister."

Simon sighed. "We're going to have a discussion about boundaries someday, Anthony. For now, I'm going to work."

"I'm not letting this go, mate!" Simon heard Anthony's voice coming through the phone as he finally hung up. He flopped back on the bed. It was finally time to go to work.

Daphne shuffled down the corridor, desperately trying not to drop the huge stack of exams in her arms. It was her first assessment, and luckily only two of three hundred and forty-five had failed. That was a bell curve that showed she was an effective professor.

And that gave her a little more pride than she was expecting. Sure, she'd done all the studying, and student teaching, and all of that. But she wasn't really sure this was what she wanted to do until she felt the satisfaction in knowing she'd taught those kids something important. Maybe she just needed to actually experience something to know she needed it.

Daphne was so engrossed in getting to class that she didn't notice she was walking into a solid, broad chest. And then she was wrapped tight in strong arms, holding her against him, hips pinned to his hard thighs. And damn her traitorous body for knowing exactly who she was pressed against.

"Simon," she breathed, trying not to give away how close she was to begging him to slide his hands around front and explore. She tried to pry herself away, but for some reason, it took a few seconds before his arms released her.

"Daphne." Was it her sex-starved brain, or did he sound hoarse? "Need any help?"

She glanced down at her admittedly large stack of papers, and then back up to his intense eyes. "Do you mind?"

"It's the least a boyfriend could do, right?" He held out his hands, gesturing for her to share some of her load with him.

"Right." She gave him two-thirds of the pile. He offered to help, she was going to take him up on it.

"So, I hear Francesca is getting married." She smiled.

"Yeah, she's very excited about this John. None of us have ever met him, but he seems to make her happy." Daphne shrugged. She might not always get along with her family, but she loved them. It was hard not to feel welcomed in a family of eight, though she suspected all of them felt that way at one point or another.

If she was closest to anyone, it was Francesca. While Eloise and Hyacinth were loud, and a bit bossy, she and Francesca were a bit more subdued. Not one of the eight of them lacked a backbone. But Daphne preferred to take a softer course, and Francesca was much the same way.

Anthony was rigid, Benedict dreamy and passionate, Colin confident and curious, and Gregory a bit wild. They all made sense together, but it wasn't hard to feel a bit outdone by everyone else.

That was why they all needed someone to balance them out. It was why she was so glad Francesca had found that person. Francesca wouldn't take up all the attention in a room, but the right person would always see her.

And admittedly, Daphne was a little jealous.

She straightened. She had a date with a very nice man on Saturday night to find exactly the kind of thing Francesca had. She had to remember that.

"Naturally, Anthony had the exact opposite reaction." She looked up at Simon, curious. "He gave me a call this morning. He's under the impression he needs to scare John straight."

"He need boundaries," she scoffed.

"I told him that." She saw the smirk on his lips as he glanced down at her.

They had arrived at her classroom. And she realized she had almost missed the start of class, they were walking so slow. "Well… thanks for the help."

Simon placed the stack of papers on the desk at the front of the room. Her students were almost all there, in their seats.

"Bassett!" One of the boys, cap turned backwards on his head, shouted up at them. Daphne almost laughed when Simon turned a cold stare on him, one eyebrow quirked. "Um, Professor."

Daphne did laugh at that. "Thank you again. I would have dropped these if it weren't for your help. Everyone, thank Professor Bassett for making sure you get your marks back today."

A murmur of "thank you" rippled through the crowd. And the biggest miracle yet: Simon smiled. "Any time, Professor Bridgerton. And… don't worry about finding a wedding date."

This time it was a mocking "ooh" making its way through the students in the room as Simon ducked out. "Alright, alright. Let's settle down."

It was a good reminder to her, too. The man was too good at playing his part.

Why couldn't she have a really nasally voice or cracked toenails or something? The ghost of Daphne's hips against his was driving Simon crazy. He was a second away from sinking his fingers into them and not letting her go. He didn't think he'd ever been this sexually frustrated in his life. It was just getting worse with every passing minute.

And it really didn't help things that she was funny and sweet and didn't mind poking fun at him. Most women, presumably because they had hopes of lulling him into a relationship, never stood up to him or made jokes at his expense. It was refreshing. And he was certain that was why he was so consumed by thoughts of her. She was new and different and it intrigued him.

He had always loved the chase. Once he caught her—if he let himself catch her—it would all die down.

He spooned some of the university-provided chili, suddenly in a much better mood. This was all temporary. He thought about finding another woman to satisfy the driving urge, but shot down the idea quickly. This was all temporary. No need to go spoiling the plan on a whim. Especially because it was working. Most of the women he'd seen on campus has refrained from approaching him with more than a friendly—or at least not too overtly flirtatious—smile.

"You really do love American food, don't you?" Simon glanced up to see Friedrich St. John sit down across from him, one of those dopey grins on his face. The man was always smiling. It had never really bothered Simon before, but it irked him now.

"I can't deny that you people know how cook." Simon tried for a casual, easy tone. But the whole bubbly, happy thing Friedrich had going on was grating on him. Maybe he just wasn't in as good of a mood as he thought.

"A compliment from Simon Bassett." Friedrich acted impressed. "A rare honor indeed."

"Good week so far, Friedrich?" Simon continued eating, hoping the spice and warmth would distract him enough to keep the conversation light.

"It's been very good so far, yes." The other man paused, for once. "Listen, Simon, I know you and Daphne have something going, and I don't want to step on any toes. But I think she's great, and I really would like to take her out to dinner this week. Is that going to be a problem between us?"

Simon had to respect Friedrich for that. He knew he could be a rude, cold bastard. But Friedrich approached him straight up. And despite the unsettled feeling in his gut, which really could be because of the questionable chili, he nodded. "We'll be fine, Friedrich. Daphne and I have just started seeing each other, so we're not exclusive. Thanks for asking."

See? He could be reasonable and civil. Even when he really didn't want to be.

Daphne couldn't help but pace while she waited for Friedrich's arrival on Saturday night. It helped that she could spend the time annoying her family in their group chat. Daphne knew she could get a rise out of her brothers by telling them she was going on a date with an American. Especially now that Francesca had broken the ice with her engagement news.

Ant: I forbid it

Colin: that seems reasonable

Hy: good job, sis! U and Fran make a good team

Frannie Bannanie: Anthony, is ur head still attached to ur body?

Dickie: not for long

Greggg: smoke is coming out of his ears

El: proud of u 2. can't believe you managed it before me and hy

Ant: I feel attacked

Daff-o-dil: If the shoe fits

Ant: *gasp* I have been betrayed

Dickie: have a good time daph. but don't you dare marry an American bloke

Colin: i have to second that one

Frannie Bannanie: I say marry him

The doorbell rang before she could respond to the message. There were too many of them in there anyway. She could hardly keep all of the colors straight.

Daff-o-dil: Good night. Why are all of you up so late anyway?

Greggg: its only midnite. have fun daffodil!

She shoved her phone into her purse before she had to listen to any more of their sibling bickering. Though she was a little bit proud of herself for almost giving Anthony an aneurism. And a tiny little voice in her head still wondering how much more satisfying it would be if Anthony knew she'd kissed his best friend.

Daphne pushed that out of her mind and answered the door. She was going to have a damn good night with an attractive man, and maybe get a kiss at the end of the night. It would be worth it.

She opened the door to find Friedrich on the other side, sporting his now-familiar grin. "Hey. You look great."

She returned his smile and glanced down at her outfit. She'd gone with jeans, a ruffled blue blouse, and a navy jacket. "Thanks, you look good as well." He did, in his navy button down and the slacks fitted to his surprisingly fit legs.

"You ready to go?" He shifted to the side to let her out.

"I am." Daphne stepped out. It was far too hot in North Carolina, but the evenings were nice. It was sunny and just cool enough to need a jacket. She was only slightly dreading February coming next week. "So how far away is this place?"

"Not far, actually. Would you be up for a walk?" They had started meandering slowly down the sidewalk.

"It's a nice night." She smiled at him. She really did want to give tonight a try. "So, you teach history? What's your specialty?"

"Late middle ages and the Renaissance." She could tell he was very passionate about it. Something about the warmth in his voice intrigued her. "My family was German, and when I was in high school, I did a project tracing them back all the way to the second Holy Roman Empire. It was so interesting to see how far back I could go, and I was hooked. Never tried anything else."

"That's nice." Daphne wished she felt that way. She just now realized that teaching was what she wanted to do. "I have a tendency to be pretty indecisive. I went through six years of university and teaching to get this job, and I still wasn't sure if it was the right fit for me."

"Do you like it so far?" Being genuinely interested in her life was a plus. Most of the men she'd dated in university had been more interested in her as a pretty face than someone with depth that had her own life.

"I do. I actually realized this morning that I think it's the right fit for me." They were only a block away from the restaurant now. It looked busy, which was a good sign. "I was quite relieved, because there's not much else you can do in cultural art history."

"Well, I promise to always be around if you want an ear to nerd out on history with." He shot her another one of those charming smiles as they approached the doors to the restaurant. Things were looking up.

Daphne tossed her keys in the little bowl she kept by the door to her apartment four hours later. It had been a good night. They had plenty in common. Not only did they have similar interests in history, but they'd had quite a time dissecting the rest of the department faculty. They'd played a fun game of "Most Likely To" with all of their fellow professors. They'd voted Nigel Berbrooke most likely to host a party that nobody comes to.

And she was proud of herself. She hadn't thought about Simon at all while she was out with Friedrich. He was good company, and she had a great time with him. Maybe this thing she felt for Simon would pass.

But maybe it wouldn't. Because she hadn't thought of him on her date. But Friedrich also hadn't made her feel so…alive as Simon did. She didn't tingle when she was near him. His attention on her was like a gentle breeze, while Simon's was like bearing the weight of the sun. It was intense and scary, but it was also bright and hopeful. Like there was something really promising there if she let it in.

She didn't have to make a decision right now. If there was even a decision to be made. No matter what she did or did not feel for Simon, he had made his feelings about relationships abundantly clear. It wasn't going to happen between the two of them.