Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Why is that hot? Not just him feeding me, telling me to open for him, but the fact that we’re sharing a meal, and he’s eating food I’ve already eaten from. It’s intimate and not us at all. That doesn’t stop me from parting my lips when he repeats the process, and I again take another delicious bite.
My eyes lock with his as I chew, and the intensity of his stare has heat pooling between my thighs. “Good girl,” he says huskily.
I choke as I swallow and reach for my glass. I take a hefty drink as Spencer places his hand on the center of my back and rubs soothing circles. His touch feels like fire even through my shirt, and everyone knows you are supposed to stay away from fire, but I find myself leaning into him anyway.
“You all right?” he asks. He’s close. Too close.
“I’m good.” Part of me wants to take another bite, so he’ll tell me what a good girl I am, but I tamp that down. This is Spencer, my rival, the guy who made our entire college careers a competition. I don’t need his praise, even though those two words affected me more than I care to admit. So much so these panties are ruined.
“I need to run to the restroom.” I stand on shaking legs and move through the small crowd to the ladies’ room. As soon as I’m inside, I can think clearly. With my hands braced on the edge of the sink, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are bright, my cheeks flushed, and I can still feel his hand on my back.
“He’s just a man,” I mutter as I step away from the sink and into the stall. I didn’t need to use the bathroom, but I did need to clean up. As predicted, my panties are a mess, and there is no cleaning up. Not here. With few options, I slip off my thong, wrap it tightly in some toilet paper, and shove them into my small handbag. It’s not ideal to be in this skirt without panties, but driving home in wet panties isn’t ideal either.
I’m going straight home. I can’t be trusted to be alone with this man right now. I need some distance to get myself together. He’s going to be my boss.
My. Boss.
Squaring my shoulders, I mentally prepare myself to walk out of this bathroom and right out the door. My drink is already paid for, and I have no reason to stick around. Just because I told Spencer he could sit in the empty seat next to me doesn’t mean I have to stick around to keep him company.
I’m definitely not doing that. I’m going home to get lost in a book where the hero tells the heroine she’s a good girl, and I will not under any circumstance remember the sound of Spencer’s voice as I read those words.
Nope. Not ever.
Exhaling a deep breath, I pull open the door only to be greeted with warm chocolate eyes. “Spencer.” I breathe his name.
“You were gone a while,” he says. He’s standing casually against the opposite wall with his hands shoved deep in his pockets and one leg bent, resting on the wall.
“There was a line.” It’s a lie, and we both know it, but he doesn’t call me out on it.
I stand frozen as his eyes roam over every inch of me. I should walk away, but my feet won’t move. Instead, I stand as still as a statue while he looks his fill. My mind immediately goes to my ruined thong that’s shoved into my purse.
Spencer stands to his full height and takes one step, then stops. I’m still blocking the door. It’s just us in the dimly lit area. “It’s been seven days since I’ve laid eyes on you,” he tells me.
“Are you keeping a diary now?” The bite that should have been in my tone isn’t there. Instead, it’s nothing but curiosity which I know he hears.
“What makes you think I just started it?” he asks. He takes another step toward me, a small one, still leaving space between us.
“You expect me to believe that all these years, you’ve been keeping track of the last time you saw me?” I tilt my head to the side to study him. I can’t seem to get a good read on his motives. Why would he want me to think that?
“No diary, Charlie girl,” he says softly.
“Excuse me,” a woman who looks to have had about five too many beers says as she stumbles toward me.
Spencer reaches out and snakes an arm around my waist, and pulls me into his chest as we step out of the way. We’re now further down the darkened hallway. There’s practically no light, and I know that no one will see us unless they’re actually searching. There’s no one here tonight that will be looking for me, or for him for that matter. We’re all alone. You would think that I’d be scared, and that’s the reason my heart is racing, but that’s not it. It’s him. Being this close to him. The feel of his large hand gripping my hip, the way my hands rest on his strong muscular chest, and the way he dips his head, burying his face in my neck and breathing me in.