Standing, he pulls out his wallet and throws cash on the table to cover our meal. He leads me from my seat and cups my jaw in both hands, kissing me long and full and . . . Damn. This is why I fell into bed with him that first time. He can listen, and he can kiss. I never thought I’d find myself in a relationship like this, and yet here I am, sneaking around. It’s not that what we’re doing is against the rules, but it’s certainly frowned upon. At the very least, it will make people think twice about my accomplishment when I finally get my doctorate.

“You’re way too good for some guy who gets paid to knock other guys around on a field,” he whispers against my mouth. “Just remember that.”

I grimace, wishing he didn’t have to bring his anti-athlete snobbery into this. And seriously, who doesn’t know that quarterbacks do the ball throwing and not the knocking around?

“Ready to go home?” he asks.

Home. The place we stay when we sleep together is hardly home to either of us.

George has a daughter in Chicago and lives there Thursday night through Tuesday morning to be with her. He teaches a Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday schedule at Starling and lives in a studio apartment near campus those days. This weekend was one of the rare exceptions when he stuck around Starling for department obligations.

His phone buzzes on the table, and he cuts his eyes to it before looking back to me. “Do you mind? I’m waiting for a call from my secretary about arrangements for next month’s speaker series.”

“On a Sunday?”

“No rest for the wicked.” Winking, he grabs the phone and swipes to answer it. “George Alby speaking.”

I point to the bathroom, and he nods toward the street and mouths, Meet me outside?

“Sure.”

In the bathroom, I wash my hands and breathe. Until I started talking about Easton, I didn’t realize how much I was dreading tonight’s conversation. If someone accused me of intentionally omitting my history with Easton from what I’ve shared with George, I would’ve denied it like crazy. But now? Now I realize I didn’t want to talk about it because I knew George would make me face a past I’m not ready to face.

It’s not like Easton and I are going to try to have something real now that he’s back home. I wouldn’t want that even if I was single. I have too many feelings of rejection and heartache where he’s concerned to ever want that.

I close my eyes and remember the buzz that went across my skin when Easton found me alone in the kitchen. The way I could feel him enter the room. Intellectually, I’m totally on board with letting Easton go forever, but my pheromones haven’t gotten the message yet.