Page List


Font:  

Chapter Twelve

Warren

Loving her seems too small of an expression for what I feel for Jemma. Erik and Daemon’s confession of love three nights ago caught me by surprise at first. After I found my voice again, we grabbed a few beers and moved to the balcony. We had a long conversation about what we hope to share with the woman who stole all three of our hearts. The university has us under strict policies and regulations, but we’re willing to do whatever it takes for her. Anything.

This is our last night in London but more importantly our last moment to have Jemma all to ourselves. The girl has trust issues and after spending nearly two weeks with us it’s hard to tell why she doesn’t trust us enough to tell us who exactly might be missing her back home. And it’s another man. Of that I am dead certain. Whether he’s a love interest or not is another question.

I turn to watch Jemma moving around in the kitchen. She seems distant, even in our love-making and I fear we might have scared her with our little game. Instead of passing the day getting her to open up, we’ve spent it in meetings securing contracts for our company and it looks like tonight we will be spending it working on another coding issue with a new program. We’ve barely had a full night’s rest in days and we still need to wrap up a few more contracts.

Jemma has been cooking something that smells extraordinary and Daemon is about to make a break for the kitchen. I know he’s suffering with guilt from how it ended with Zira so he’s putting it all in with Jemma. I can sense he wants to get in there with our girl instead of being trapped here under a pile of work.

She’s been quiet since she talked with her friend and the events that followed. She’s barely left the kitchen in hours and our workload hasn’t helped.

Erik pushes up from the table and starts pacing behind me. “We could use her help. Why are you so dead set against asking her all of a sudden?”

Since her original help with the black-market virus, we’ve all left her to do her own thing. She can spend hours looking at her screen. Or rather hiding behind it.

I scratch at the scruff covering my jawline. “Something’s changed, man. She’s pulling away from us.”

Erik turns his chair around and straddles it, chin propped up on the back. “I know. I hoped I was just being paranoid, but...”

“Something is bothering her and we’ve failed somewhere along the line if she feels she can’t confide in us.” Daemon props his elbows on the table, interlacing his fingers.

He’s right, damn it.

“If we ask her for help now on that damn code, it would send the wrong message.”

I force a smile when Jemma walks out wearing my shirt and little else. No bra for sure. Maybe she’s picked up those sexy black lacy panties I set out for her this morning. I smile.

Yesterday it was Daemon’s shirt she wiggled into and the night before it was Erik’s.

She walks toward me and I open my arms as she slides onto my lap.

I can feel the guy’s eyes on us and she reaches out for Daemon’s hand and slides a smile to Erik.

“You guys ready for dinner? You’ve been working long enough. You have to be hungry by now.” Even her tone has lost color. What the fuck do we do?

“Not even close.”

Her brows pinch and I chuckle at her surprise. “I mean, how about we skip to the dessert part of dinner?”

She huffs out a laugh that reaches into my chest and squeezes my heart. “Nice try.”

I slide my hand up a creamy thigh and try for a peak.

She shakes her head with a frown. “No dessert for boys who don’t eat their dinner, Professor Thurston.”

Before I can challenge what dinner might be if she were game, she presses a finger to my lips.

“Back up a second. Did I hear something about sending a wrong message?”

“We’re trying to figure out a problem with coding. It’s always fucking coding giving us grief. We need a better team,” Erik jumps in, saving my ass.

Jemma perks up and the heavy weight we’ve seen pressing on her for the last few days seems to lift a fraction. “Oh? Let me give it a try.”

“No.”

She tenses up and I curse my inability to be more suave, but I don’t want her thinking we are seducing her this entire time all for the pretty brain of hers.


Tags: Penelope Wylde Erotic