Her Dirty Archeologists by Mika Lane

Chapter 22

FLEUR HOLMES

“You’re really thinking of leaving?”

Drake looked at me like I was crazy.

Maybe I was.

I shrugged. “I don’t know, Drake. I am just not sure I feel that safe here. Even with you three guys.”

I’d wanted to discuss my concerns and make sure they understood that my reservations about continuing with the dig had nothing to do with them.

But when I thought about it, Drake was essentially my ‘boss,’ since he’d assigned me the project and was my advisor at school. So I thought it best to bring it up with him first.

I was glad I did.

We sat on little camp stools outside his tent.

“Fleur, you started to tell me why you wanted to become an archeologist, but never finished the story.”

Ah. The ‘story.’ It wasn’t an easy thing for me to talk about, but Drake’s question was legit.

“It’s pretty simple, really. My dad used to take my sister and me with him to small digs. You know, looking for fossils, stuff like that. We had boxes of the stuff. I loved it. Then, one day he left for a dig someplace far away—I don’t even remember where—and he never came home.”

“What do you mean, he never came home?”

I barely ever talked about this. But when I did, my heart started to pound, then to break, just like it did when I was fifteen years old.

“A dirt wall collapsed on him. They tried to dig him out, but by the time they got to them, it was too late.”

I hunched slightly forward on my seat, as if that might lessen the tightness in my chest. In the past, I’d get to the point where I could barely breathe. Now, it was just the pain that was debilitating.

“Holy shit. I’ve heard that story. Your father was Ralph Holmes.”

I nodded.

“Jesus, Fleur, I can’t believe you never told me that. And that I didn’t put two and two together.”

He put a hand on my arm. “And I’m sorry you lost your dad, sweetie. He was a really accomplished man.”

The coil in my chest unwound a little, enough to let me straighten up in my seat.

I reached for his hand. “I’m sorry I never told you. It’s still hard, after all these years, to talk about it. I… I guess I don’t want people feeling sorry for me, especially since he was so well-known.”

“And that’s why you wanted to become an archeologist? I think that’s awesome.”

Unfinished business and all that.

I looked up to find nothing but understanding in his eyes.

It was funny how just a few short weeks before, Drake had been the imperious Professor Bancroft. He was a good advisor, always supportive, but I’d really not known him at all. And he’d never made an effort to get to know me, either.

How fast things had changed. Although, I was sure they’d go back to the way they were once we were back at the university.

Right?

“Yeah, I guess I always thought if I did the same work as my dad, it would make me feel closer to him.”

“And does it?” he asked.

I took a deep inhale. “Sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn’t.”

“So, Fleur. If you’re here, doing this work in your father’s memory, doesn’t it make sense for you to stick this out?” He gestured around us.

I looked back at him, not sure what to say.

“You are safe here. And going forward, the guys and I will make more of an effort to make sure you feel that way. I’d like to ask you to hang on a bit longer. You’ve made this trip so enjoyable. You’re always eager to learn and work, and are clearly willing to be moved out of your comfort zone.”

I had to laugh at that one. We both did.

“I love your commitment to the project and how you just dove right in, finding ways to support the excavation.”

I looked at our hands, joined between us. “Okay. Okay, I’ll stay. But… will you sleep with me tonight?”

I hated to sound like a baby, but I just didn’t want to be alone.

A big smile spread across his face, like I’d hoped it would. “Of course. I thought you’d never ask.”

I got into my little camp bed to wait for Drake, who had to finish a few things before he joined me. I relaxed, hands behind my head, feeling pretty good about life. I’d studied hard for so long, first through undergrad, and now in my first year of graduate school. My work was beginning to pay off. I got to take part in my first big dig, and I’d be an important part of the report that followed our efforts.

Maybe even my name would go on it.

And I’d graduated from college punks to real men. Not that our little adventure was going anywhere—I was sure it wasn’t—but it taught me that I deserved better than the jerk I’d been dating, and most importantly, that there were better men out there than I’d realized.

What a bonus.

“Hey, darlin’,” Drake said, entering my tent through the zipped door.

I was drowsy after a long day of work and anxiety, and when Drake slipped behind me, both of us on our sides, he wrapped his arms around me. The imperfections of the day began to melt away.

He slid a hand under my sleep T-shirt, his fingers whispering over my tummy, and up my chest until he cupped a breast.

At the same time, his erection pressed against my backside, and he groaned quietly. Pushing his knee between my legs, he pressed against my sex, already throbbing with wild heat and desire. He pressed his lips to my ear for a mind-altering kiss.

Was this all some sort of dream? It sure felt like it.

“Why don’t you slide your bottoms down?” he whispered.

All righty then.

I untied the waist of my PJ pants, and slipped one leg out of them. Drake pushed my top leg up with his own, and positioned his hard cock against my wet pussy.

“Guide me,” he whispered.

I reached down between my legs, and with a hold on his dick, directed it inside in the most delicious sensation.

He started to rock in and out, with me arching my back to take more of him.

I gripped the edges of my sleeping pad for purchase, and with my orgasm mounting, arched my neck so our faces pressed cheek to cheek. His moans vibrated through me, and we held hands as I came, and then he joined me.

Holy shit, was I in trouble.

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