Page 77 of Jagged

"No." She chuckled softly. "As long as you don't rip out the pages. Or borrow it and not return it."

"I promise." I tugged down a thick red book called Sex Related Homicide and Death Investigation. The crisp pages brushed my thumb and the spine creaked when I set it down on the desk beside us. I slid onto the stool, tucking my feet on the guard bar and gazed down at the pages.

Clem plucked a book off the shelf as well then settled beside me. As if we practiced this, as if it became a regular endeavor in our routine, we began reading side-by-side. Her attention vanished from me, save the heat of her beside me. We read in parallel, her knee pressed against my thigh as we carefully flipped pages. The book I read dated back almost thirty years and the dated material in it intrigued me. The old-style photos, black and white mostly, the discussions of motives, and psychopathology held my attention for quite a while.

When I emerged from my dozen-page vanishment, I looked over at Clem. Her eyes scanned the pages of a blue-bound book, racing left to right. She twirled a strand of her hair around her finger, occasionally brushing it over her cheek. It flickered against her thick-rimmed glasses, and she became the embodiment of nerdom right there beside me. I felt the smile melt over my lips, parting them as I stared at her. Allowing myself the moment to truly take her in. My stomach flip-flopped, my fingers and toes tingled, and the warmth that ran up my middle all surprised me. In the quiet moment beside her, I had the opportunity to observe my own reactions to her and I enjoyed the feelings that overtook me.

It took her minutes, several of them, before she noticed my attention on her. She smiled, her shy gaze flickering to mine briefly then back down again. To my surprise, her focus returned to me again, this time watching me for longer. Her teeth raked her bottom lip, and I noted the slight blush that glazed her cheeks. I didn't hesitate this time to run my fingers through her hair, and her smile broadened.

"I really like your favorites room," I told her, gulping after then continued, "And I really like you."

"I really like you, too," she said, then leaned forward. We met each other halfway, closing the space between us with a delicate kiss.

It turned fiery quickly after, and my hands fell to her legs when she swiveled her stool to face me. In this position, her legs parted around me, and I moved my hands up her thighs in a firm grab. Shakey fingers lingered around my elbows as I nibbled her lips. I loved how she melted to my whims sometimes. For as verbal as she was with her desires, and as vibrant as her enjoyment of our encounters, the initiation always appeared sweetly eager. I liked that about her, too. I didn't have to question what she wanted. She told me, and her cues when we began were always clear to me.

Our kiss intensified, and she gave my arms a firm squeeze until something beeped behind us. She pulled back abruptly, her eyes widening as she looked over my shoulder.

"I re-sequenced the genomes with more specific and less specific markers to bring about a broader and narrow profile dichotomy for your case," she blurted out in rapid fire. "And had the results sent here. I considered the reports you sent about the demolition factory and theorized that if a female perpetrator worked at a demolition factory, a family member, most likely male assigned at birth, probably worked there two. With a cross-section of familial traits, we might find something."

My breath hitched at the sudden distraction, but her words stole my interest just like hers. "You did all of that here?"

"Partly. I had the reports sent to my system. It's sort of a backwards hack situation encrypted with code to route results to me. It looks like the results reported to my office though." She nibbled her lip again.

"You're a genius, aren't you?" I smiled while slipping my arms around her middle. At first, her hands hovered over my shoulders until she grabbed me in a firm hug.

"Not really." She snickered while squeezing me. "Want to see what it says?"

"Sure do." I kissed her cheek, and noted the bouncing excitement that found her in that moment. Somehow I knew that, for as much as sex interested her, this result had a similar pull. When Clem's mind focused on something, it stayed there until resolved. That perseverance was new to me in a way, but recognizing it and respecting it gave me an understanding and clarity to who she was. "I can feel your excitement."

"I am very excited," she declared, grinning. "Then after this we can go to the bedroom."

"Oh, I see. You're a planner." I laughed and took her hand, backing up toward the beeping machine.

"I am, indeed." She chuckled and squeezed my hand. "For many things."

"Good to know."

"It is. It absolutely is."

My smile remained steadfast as she worked at a heated pace when the giant monitor lit up. I understood exactly nothing of the numbers and figures that flooded her screen. What I did know, however, was that I was starting to understand Clem. At least a little bit. And I hoped she would one day understand me too. For all my ragged edges that contrasted her clean lines, maybe we would fit together differently. Just maybe this was something worth it.

Chapter Eleven

I returned from the bathroom to find Clem in bed with the blankets over her lap. The unremarkable results cleared away her preoccupation apparently. She still wore her button-down shirt as neatly as before, but as soon as I approached, I noticed she wore nothing from the waist down while she stared at her phone. I gnawed the inside of my cheek as I approached, then caught a few sentences of the video explaining something about gene splicing and words I could hardly understand. To get her attention, I slid my hand up her lap then gripped her hip before perching myself on the edge of the bed.

She lowered the phone right away, setting it on the nightstand, and smiled. "Hi."

"Well, hello." I chuckled and stroked her cheek. "Didn't expect to find you here when I clearly remember last seeing you in the kitchen."

"I reckoned I'd get a jump on things." She snickered and slouched into the pillows, the cutest expression taking over her pretty face.

I laughed and climbed on top of her, straddling her thighs before capturing her in a hurried kiss. She gripped my wrists as I cupped her face through it. Before Clementine, I never knew what to do. How to act. When to initiate or not. I questioned what my partners wanted, or what they wanted me to do or how they wanted me to act. With her, I didn't. Not at all.

She leaned back, her lip between her teeth as she gazed up at me, her eyes glazed over with a sort of spacey expression. I tucked her hair behind her ears and let out a slow breath.

"What are you thinking? Your face looks like you're thinking," she asked, her voice husky with rapid speech.

"That before you I had no idea what I was doing. Like I would wait for something to happen between me and someone. Usually wait for them to do something first, but it's not like that with you. You just…know what you want and tell me."

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