“Thanks again, Jesse. Sleep well.”
I watched her descend the stairs, then listened to the sound of her flip-flops and the jiggling of her key as she went inside her apartment. I closed my door, slid the chain across, then pushed the coat rack in front of it.
I peeled off my suit jacket and tugged at the tie around my collar. In the bathroom, I turned on the shower and dropped all my clothes in the hamper. They smelled of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and Candi’s sweet flowery perfume.
Steam billowed as I stepped under the hot spray. I closed my eyes and let it wash the night off me, piece by piece.
Weddings always made me twitchy—like talks about religion. Both demanded blind faith in things no one could prove. I had more friends who were divorced than friends who were still struggling together, chasing a happy ever after. No good sex, no joy. Just obligation dressed up in matching bathrobes.
So what was the point?
Cam’s mother would say I was drowning my traumas in pussy. Not that I believed in that kind of psycho-bullshit. My lifestyle was my own choice and I liked it that way.
My thoughts landed on Jesse. What kind of lover would she be? Soft and submissive? Wild and untamable? I was dying to find out.
She moved like someone who’d make a man work for every breath, every moan—as though she could ride him straight into heaven, or into hell if he didn’t know what he was doing.
But there was so much more to her. Her art reflected a soul so beautiful, so complex that a man could spend a lifetime discovering new shades of her.
I cursed the day we met. The day I screwed up the one shot I might’ve had at knowing her.
Lola—the woman I was dating—had brought the whipped cream. And the handcuffs. The cherry had been mine. It was her birthday, we were tipsy, we’d finished off a bottle of champagne and realized we were out of condoms. Lola offered to go grab some, since she said she needed some vitamins too. So I figured I’d surprise her. Lay back, naked, drizzled and shackled—a literal snack.
It would’ve been funny. Hell, it was funny until Jesse walked in. The cream had just started dripping off my balls when she barged through the door. I’d never forget her face. She looked like she’d caught me drowning a puppy.
And that had sealed her opinion of me. One moment of absurdity that erased any chance I had with her.
Or had it?
I turned off the water, reaching for the towel. I might be many things, but I wasn’t a quitter. My door breaking could be the best thing that ever happened to me. Because now I owed her something. I had a connection with her, even if it was tiny. I had a chance to show her who I really was.
I dried off and pulled on a pair of boxers, then wandered into the living room. The apartment felt too quiet without Candi’s chatter filling the space. I grabbed some water from the fridge and stood in front of the thirty-gallon aquarium in my living room. Five female bettas swam lazily through the planted tank, each one a different color—sapphire blue like a nebula, deep crimson like Mars at sunset, iridescent purple that reminded me of distant galaxies, pale pink like a planetary ring, and one that shimmered between copper and gold, depending on thelight, like Venus at dawn. They were beautiful, graceful, and unpretentious. Unlike their aggressive male counterparts who’d kill each other in seconds, the females coexisted peacefully in their little society.
“Hey, ladies.” I tapped gently on the glass. The golden one—I called her Venus—swam up to investigate.
Janine had laughed her ass off when I first set up the tank, and said I’d never have the discipline to clean it properly. But my sister was entirely wrong. The whole thing was almost soothing to me.
I’d started with one betta—Venus—after a particularly long night debugging satellite telemetry code. I’d been staring at orbital mechanics for so long that, when I walked past the pet store, the golden fish in the display tank looked like a tiny celestial body, floating in her own universe. I’d read about how misunderstood bettas were. Everyone assumed you could only keep them alone, but females could thrive together if you did it right. It required the right tank size, the right environment, the right balance. It took work. Maybe that’s why I liked them. They reminded me that coexistence didn’t mean domestication.
The blue one, Luna, chased the pink one, Io, away from a choice spot near the driftwood. Europa, the purple beauty, ignored them both and nibbled at the algae on a rock. Callisto, the crimson beauty, hid behind the plants the way she always did.
I took a sip of water, watching them move. Five gorgeous, independent creatures, each with her own personality, none of them interested in being tamed or understood.
Kind of like Jesse.
I smiled to myself. Maybe I had a type after all.
The difference was, I didn’t want Jesse in a tank. I wanted her to let me into her world—into that messy, creative, competent space where she built things and fixed things andcreated beauty out of nothing. I wanted to know what made her laugh, what kept her up at night, what she dreamed about when she closed her eyes.
Venus bumped against the glass where my finger rested, then darted away.
“Don’t worry,” I murmured. “I won’t waste this opportunity.”
Chapter Four
Jesse
We were tumbling over a huge bed, wrapped in each other and in the steam of the hot kisses we shared. Sebastian’s eyes drilled into mine, as his hips moved, drilling into—
