I'm back, and we're getting spicy today, folks!

Chapter Five

Had she imagined all of last night? Daphne headed in to work, bag over her shoulder as she headed through the halls to her office. She'd sent Simon a text when she'd arrived home.

Daphne Bridgerton: Had a great time xx thanks for a fun night out

And nothing. No text, no email, no call. She must have just zoned out over dinner and had a very vivid, emotional day dream.

But it looked like she might get a chance to find out right now. She saw Simon heading down the hallway toward her. She knows he has a class a half an hour before hers, in the other direction. She raised her hand to waive.

And again… nothing. She would have thought he didn't see her, except that she saw is eyes flick quickly away from her and to the wall behind her. Really? She stopped, watching him pass her by. Wow.

She felt a hot rush of something up her spine. The anger was easy to pick out, but the shame and guilt…those she preferred not to acknowledge.

She ducked into her office as soon as she could. The faster she could get away from people, the better off she'd be. She had a terrible suspicion that she was going to start crying.

And yet, it appeared luck was not on her side this morning. Because no sooner had she sat down in her chair and prepared to bury her head in her hands, Friedrich stepped into her office. "Good morning, Daphne. I was thinking pizza for tonight. How does that sound?"

Daphne knew in her gut that she couldn't let this go on any longer. Because what she said last night was true. Even if she could convince Anthony to let her be with someone like Friedrich, he didn't give her the all the exciting, romantic feelings she wanted. He was a good man, but he wasn't for her. "Friedrich—"

"You don't want to go anymore." He didn't even look that surprised by it. "Simon's a good guy, I don't blame you."

"No, it's not him." And that was the truth, because clearly, Simon regretted last night. But that didn't mean she had to continue to string on someone who deserved to find the right person. "I think you're great. I just don't think we fit together. But you are going to make some woman very, very happy not too long from now."

And then the most surprising part of the morning: Friedrich grinned that patented grin. "I know."

Daphne had to laugh at that. The man certainly didn't lack for confidence.

"Well, it's been lovely getting to know you Daphne Bridgerton." He imitated her British accent almost perfectly. It was both entertaining and a little terrifying. "Don't be a stranger." He left her with a wink and ducked out of the room.

And suddenly, Daphne was alone with her thoughts again. The one place she didn't want to be.

Daphne decided to walk home that afternoon. It wasn't so far from campus to her apartment, and she could always come back for her car later. But she needed the air. She'd thankfully held off on the crying after Friedrich's visit to her office. But there was always the chance she'd break down out of nowhere, so the walk home would do her good.

And it did. She'd holed herself up in her office, where she dove into grading papers to take her mind off of things. And she was at least a little happy to know that some of her teaching changes had made a difference already. The class average was up to a B- from a C+. Hopefully it would just keep going up.

"Miss Bridgerton." Daphne had turned down the street next to hers, and from behind her, she heard Nigel Berbrooke's voice. That was exactly what she needed today. A run in with Nigel.

"Mr. Berbrooke. How are you today?" She kept tone light and polite, hoping to get rid of him as quickly as possible.

"It seems your little…dalliance with Bassett is over." There was a glint in his eye she'd never seen before. He was always thoroughly unpleasant, but he'd never looked… frightening before.

"We had an argument." She refused to confirm or deny something she wasn't sure of herself.

"Well, then you must be free this weekend. We can go to dinner." A hint of sliminess slipped into his tone. A shiver ran up her spine.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. Berbrooke. You are my boss." She sped up her walk a bit. A solid wood door between them would make her feel much better.

"That's not a problem." She felt his clammy hands inch over her waist.

"It is for me." She slipped out of his grip, though unfortunately not for long.

"Come on, Miss Bridgerton, don't do that." He grabbed her more forcefully this time, pulling her against him.

"Nigel, let me go." She tried to push against his chest, but she couldn't free herself. Her heart was pounding, and panic rose in her throat. Nigel was strong when he wanted to be.

"Why won't you go with me, Daphne? What do Bassett or St. John have that I don't?" His wrinkled mouth was moving closer and closer to her. She turned her face away, struggling against his grip.

And all of a sudden, she was free. She made sure she really was loose, before she looked up to see Simon's strong back between her and Nigel. "She said no, Berbrooke. No means no. Especially when she says it. You touch her again, and I disembowel you. Is that clear?"

Nigel had, naturally turned into a whimpering mess.

"Is it clear?" Simon repeated. Daphne could feel the tension rolling off him, his back tight.

Nigel nodded. "Yes." Simon just pointed back the way they'd come. And Nigel, slimy coward that he was, heeded without another word. Once he was gone, Simon turned and focused all of that fury on her.

"Thank you—"

His hand gipped her elbow and dragged her with him. "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" She shuffled her feet as she tried to keep up with his larger steps. He was in a mood she'd never seen him in before.

"Your apartment." That was all she got. It was a quick trip with him hustling her along. They were inside before she knew it. He locked the door behind him.

"You didn't have to walk me back." He stood across the room from her, arms crossed, glaring.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm—what?" She met his gaze, and for the first time saw the same fear she'd felt mirrored in his eyes. "Yes, I'm okay. Thank you for helping me."

"Good." And he started walking towards her door.

"That's it?" She couldn't help but drop her bag in frustration.

"What else is there?" He turned back, arms still crossed over his chest. She could see the muscles in his forearms straining as he stood there. He was still practically shaking in anger, and it took all his strength to reign it in.

"Last night. I thought it was… amazing. I've never talked to someone like that before." And the dam broke. "And yeah, you're pretty to look at, okay? So I thought maybe there was something there. I get it, after this morning. There isn't, you don't see me that way, whatever. But don't pretend we don't know each other. Don't ignore me in the hall. This arrangement might be over, but that doesn't make us strangers."

He just stood there, still staring, still wound tight as a screw, for a few seconds. Daphne shook her head. Clearly, he wanted to pretend last night didn't happen. He regretted opening up to her. And that hurt, but she would prefer to lick her wounds in private.

"That's not true." It was quiet, but he definitely said it. "We aren't strangers. You think I don't see you that way, but you're all I think about. I was wrong for how I acted this morning. And I don't know what to do about that. You consume me."

She stayed rooted to the spot. No one had ever spoken to her like that before. And her whole body caught fire. Those elusive butterflies too flight in her stomach. And Daphne decided to screw waiting and not making a choice. The way she had her whole life.

So she rushed across the room to him and pulled his head down to meet his full, kissable lips with her own. It wasn't even a second later that she felt his strong forearms close around her back and pull her in tight against him.

His mouth was confident, conquering hers. Like he couldn't possibly get enough of it. Like he was trying to inhale her. She'd never been kissed with this much intensity before. It was…exciting. Enticing. She wanted more.

She raised up on her toes and pressed herself more firmly against him. Licked along his bottom lip, encouraging him to let her in. And he did. His tongue met hers, hungry, as his hands found her hips. She felt him hard against her. It was the headiest form of excitement.

He dragged his lips down her cheek, over to her neck. She felt his tongue lap as he went, and one hand snaked up her torso to close on her breast. She let out a gasp. She'd done all of this before, but it felt so intense, so new. She didn't know how to process the sensation. That clever mouth worked its way down her chest.

She grasped his shoulders for balance as she tried not to overload on the sensation. And decided she wanted hot skin instead. She tugged at the fabric of his sleeve, trying to pull the loose cotton up over his head without moving his mouth off of her skin. But he broke away to tug his shirt all the way off, and she had to thank him for that. His chest was a work of art. All the way down the sculpted shoulders, solid biceps, those impossibly sexy forearms, and the hands quickly making their way over to tug at the buttons down the side of her dress.

His mouth came back to hers, the silky fabric falling down her body as it dropped to the floor. "So better than I imagined." His hands clamped on her hips, bringing her in so he could glide his lips down her neck.

It took her a moment to work through the haze. She'd never felt this swept away. "You imagined this?"

His mouth worked its way across her chest, sucking one ripe nipple through the lace of her skimpy little bra. It was expensive, and she should be upset that it probably needed to be professionally cleaned now. But she couldn't bring herself to care. The edge of his teeth worried the little nub, the lace only serving to make the sensations that much more intense.

"Every night since you kissed me." He broke away finally, his gaze traveling the length of her body. "Tell me now if you want me to stop."

She should turn him away. For Anthony. For all of his misgivings about commitment and childhood. For her own good. But she couldn't. "I want this."

"Bedroom." He jerked his head in that direction, getting to work on his pants. He stumbled, tugging them off on the way there. And she couldn't help but smile. This was probably a bad idea. Her heart was way too involved.

He should not be doing this. Simon was standing next to Daphne Bridgerton's bed, nearly naked. This was a bad idea. And yet, when she followed him in, her graceful body coming to stand next to his, he couldn't really remember why. She was stunning.

More than that, she was her. Other women he'd slept with put on an act. He'd had women be aggressive, some submissive, some kinky… but none of them really were in the moment with him. They wanted something out of the encounter, and it always served to remind him why he did what he did. He always made sure they had a good time. And he always made sure they knew the score. But they were never special.

But Daphne was different. She wasn't trying to be what he wanted. Honestly, he wasn't sure she knew how to. If what she'd said about Anthony was true, she likely didn't have much experience at all. But her delicate but passionate nature shone through in her every movement. In every kiss.

Like the one she bestowed on him now, her clever tongue making its way back into his mouth. She might not take the lead, but she certainly met him with as much intensity as he had. She really did want this.

Fuck it. Fuck Anthony, fuck all the reasons why this was a bad idea. He wanted this, too. He shifted her, hands nudging those hips—the ones that he'd spent the better part of a month trying not to notice as they swayed in the hallway—back towards the bed until her legs hit the edge. She broke away to lean back, crawl backwards until she was right in the middle.

He took her in, the wispy blue lace clinging to her breasts, wet from his mouth. The satin panties he could see a dark spot on. Incredible. He wanted a taste.

But then she reached up and unhooked the bra, slowly dragging it down her arms. He met her eyes, only to find them wide and concerned. She thought he was having second thoughts. That wouldn't do.

Simon crawled up the bed, nudging her legs open so he could meet her in between. He'd been desperate when he'd first kissed her, but now he was tender. He would only get one shot at this, and he was not going to mess it up. He settled firmly against her, fitting his mouth to hers once more.

Her hips shifted, asking for more. He was happy to oblige. He rocked his hips, and the rock hard erection he was currently sporting, into her once, earning himself a muffled gasp against his lips. And then worked one hand into her hair, the other trailing down her body. He ghosted over her nipple, feeling her arch up into his touch, and continued on down that lithe torso.

His tongue slid into her mouth as his hand slid into her panties. They were pretty, like her, but they had to go. He dragged them down, not willing to let go of the subtle honey he tasted in her mouth as he crunched to pull those panties down her legs. Silky legs. Almost as soft and smooth as the fabric itself.

But it wasn't her legs he was interested in anymore. No, he wanted at that sweet, wet heaven between them. She was hot when his fingers finally trailed back up those legs. They dipped into dampness, more than he'd been expecting. He drew that slick essence up, gliding his fingers over her clit, soft, teasing, then back down as one finger nudged its way inside of her.

She pulled her head back, gasping. He tugged on the hair at the nape of her neck, thrusting that finger inside of her. He watched her brows furrow, that plush lower lip drag between her teeth. And added another finger.

He shifted above her, moving the heel of his hand over her clit. He tried light pressure, and she lifted her hips. Slightly more got him a quiet moan. A solid circle, his fingers pushing deep as he did, had her nails biting into his shoulder and her mouth falling open. That's what he wanted.

He lifted off of her, hopping to the floor quickly to find his pants.

"Wha—where are you going?" She frowned at him. He couldn't help but smile at her petulance. Don't worry, I'm right there with you.

"Condom," he said, digging for his wallet.

"You can't have kids."

Guilt nipped at him. "I can pass along STDs, though. I'm sure you don't want to risk it." He shot her one of his charming smiles, using his teeth to open the packet.

"Oh. Good point." She laid back on the bed, waiting for him to return. He made short work of his briefs, and then the condom. He had too, even the pressure of his hand was almost too much. He needed inside of her. Soon.

He looked back at the bed. She laid there, hair fanned out on her pale blue pillowcase, legs left bent at the knee to show off that peachy wetness, tucked below a thatch of dark blonde hair, in between. She made a very tempting picture.

Simon looked up to her face as he returned to the bed, finding her eyes on him. On his erection. She didn't look intimidated, but almost…fascinated. If they weren't in such a need to get to the main event, he'd let her play. But sadly, that would be something he'd have to dream about instead.

For now, he was getting inside of her. He shot her a patented, wolfish grin as he dropped back over her, settling back in the cradle of her thighs. "Are you ready?"

"God, yes," she breathed, reaching up to clasp the back of his neck. He gave her the kiss she clearly wanted, and he moved one hand down her body, tracing the path he'd taken earlier. She tasted delicious. He could happily kiss her for hours on end.

As he lined himself up, he pulled back to take in Daphne's face. Her grey eyes locked on his, waiting for the moment that he'd finally enter her. So he had to push forward, watching her as he went, until he was encased fully in her tight heat. And this, he decided, was the best he'd ever felt. Not only did her pussy feel made for him, but her expression was incredible. Like she was feeling just as entranced as he was.

For a moment, they stayed like that, just connected in silence. But then, just like earlier, her hips shifted. Those damn torturous hips. But he gave in, needed that friction just like she did. His hips drew back, then thrust into her again. She sighed, her eyes drifting closed. He agreed—this was bliss.

But he wanted her back in that state where she'd dig her nails into his skin. He wanted her that out of control. And then he remembered his test on her clit. She liked firm, solid pressure.

So he thrust harder, making sure his skin met her clit at the end firmly. She let out a sharp gasp, and he thought it was the sexiest sound he'd ever heard. He needed it again. He continued his thrusts, bringing them both closer to the edge in his quest to drag that sound out of her mouth as often as possible.

He could stay inside her forever. She squeezed him perfectly, his cock in danger of releasing too soon. But he was going to take her over first. It was going to be one of those leg-shaking, leave-scratches-down-his-back kind of orgasms. She would never forget it. And he was too far gone to think about why he wanted that to happen.

Simon could feel it starting, heard her gasps turn desperate as she sought that finally nudge that would take her over. He decided to give her a little help, rolling his hips to grind over her clit on his next thrust.

That did it. She tightened even further as spasms worked their way through that perfect pussy. And her nails scraped along his shoulders, deep enough that they might leave marks. He hoped they would. His hips stuttered as he followed her over, his orgasm hitting him slightly unexpectedly. He never came when the women he slept with did.

He collapsed, feeling Daphne's hair tickle his nose as his face nestled into her shoulder. Yes, he knew this was a bad idea. Nothing had ever felt this good.

Daphne woke to sunlight streaming through her window. That was strange. She always pulled her curtains closed at night. Mostly because she loved the feeling of tugging them open in the morning to welcome the day. She allowed herself that Disney moment.

And then she remembered she wasn't alone in the bed. A heavy arm was slung over her back, and a deliciously hairy thigh rubbed up against her own. Memories from the night before rushed back. Simon had only had one condom in his wallet, so they'd only had sex one time (but what a time it was). So they'd stayed up for hours after, just talking.

But she knew it wouldn't last. Today, he'd wake up, and they'd revert back to friends. They were great friends, and she wouldn't trade that for anything. But now that she knew would it would be like to be with him, she wasn't sure she could carry on this façade anymore. Not if it meant that she would be getting the easy bits and not the important ones.

She shifted, moving herself out from under his arm, feeling cold wash over her. She wanted to stay nestled up against him until the world finally forced her out. But she knew the longer she stayed, the more it would hurt when she came back to the real world. So she had to do it now.

She grabbed a robe off of the chair by her bathroom and tugged it on. It would have to suffice to make up for the heat of Simon's body next to her. She needed to do whatever it took to get him out of her apartment. She was starting to feel claustrophobic with him around. It was stifling her to think about the fact that what she wanted was sitting just a few rooms away.

Daphne dragged a hand through her hair, blowing out a breath. She could give him a cup of coffee and hope he got the idea. That way, she wouldn't have to actually ask him to leave. She got her French press working and tried to distract herself with her to do list for the week.

Ten minutes later, Simon entered the kitchen, his clothes back on, but disheveled. He had a pleased smile on his face. "Good morning."

"Morning." She pasted a smile of her own on, hoping it looked convincing. "Here's some coffee."

She slid it across the table to him in one of her travel mugs. She had plenty, so she didn't mind him taking it with him. He took a sip and hummed. He'd made that noise last night, and she needed it to stop. "Thank you for helping me yesterday."

Simon's expression darkened. "I really will rip him apart."

"He's too embarrassed to do anything to me again. But I promise I will report him if I feel uncomfortable." That seemed to quell the murderous gleam in his eye for now.

"Good." They settled back into silence.

"I actually have to get some things done for today, so I'm going to go get a shower before I leave." His face betrayed nothing. "If you want to head out, you can take the mug with you."

And she left the room without looking back. She didn't want to see the unconcerned expression she was sure was present on his face.