Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 156029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
He leans closer, his mouth at my ear, his breaths dusting my skin. “I want you to feel my pulse here.” He grabs my sex aggressively, and he hisses sharply. My legs nearly buckle.
I pull out of his arms and step back, panting wildly. Fear takes over.
What the hell? This is too much. Too… full on.
I don’t think I can do this.
A frown creases his brows. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you, angel.”
My eyes search his. I shrug weakly, ashamed that he can sense it.
With a shaky hand, I sip my champagne.
He shifts around uncomfortable, turning his attention to the apartment. “This… this is a nice place.”
“I-it is…”
He takes a seat at the kitchen counter and refills his glass. “Top up?” he asks casually.
I nod and pass him my glass.
We stare at each other as we drink again, and it feels like he’s choosing his next words carefully because I simply don’t know what to say.
“We can just take it slow.” He shakes his head. “I don’t mean to rush you. I’m just so damn attracted to you that I can’t help myself.”
“It’s okay, Spence.” I pause, taking a moment to compose myself. “I’m attracted to you, too. It’s just… this is new for me. I’m sorry,” I whisper shamefully.
He leans over and kisses me again, as if he’s unable to help it, and then he runs his hand up my thigh.
“Ouch.” He winces. The crystals on my dress are sharp. “This dress is like a beautiful, yet very lethal crustacean.”
My mouth falls open. “A crustacean?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, you know… a soft little thing in a very hard shell. All lethal like a sea anen—” He pauses and tries again. “A sea amen-emey.”
I laugh.
“A sea anemone.” He laughs, too. “Fuck, that’s a hard word to say.”
“You sound like something from Finding Nemo.”
“What a great movie that was.”
“A classic.” I smile at him trying to lighten the subject. I love that he’s trying to ease my fears.
He takes a sip of his drink. “Dory was my favourite—by far the best actor of all time.”
I giggle. This is the last thing I thought he would talk about. “Mine, too.”
“I’ve watched this movie many times over the years at Masters’ house with Willow and Samuel. I think Sebastian knows every word of it by heart.” He drinks again and then scowls softly. “What was the kid’s name, again?”
My eyes widen. “You did not just say that.”
His grin is full of mischief.
“Nemo. The kid’s name is Nemo, Spencer.”
“Oh.” He laughs out loud, and raises his eyebrows in embarrassment. “Right.”
We both smile as we sip our champagne, our eyes lingering on each other’s. He takes his black dinner jacket off and hangs it over the back of one of the stools, loosening his bow tie in the process, too. Watching him do that feels strangely sexual. Spencer steps forward again, and the two of us embrace to kiss softly. It’s not a passionate kiss like before. It’s an affectionate kiss, one that feels natural, comfortable, just right.
“Can you answer a question for me, Charlotte?” he asks as he tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear.
“Yes.”
“Why do I feel like I know you?”
“I could ask you the same thing. I feel a familiarity with you that shouldn’t be there.”
He runs his hand up my leg again. “Ouch.” He shakes his hand. “This dress is fucking lethal. It has its own built-in security system. Did Edward buy it for you?”
I laugh. I’ve worn this dress a few times before but never realised the crystals were so sharp to the touch. Nobody has ever touched me like this while wearing it before.
“Is this where you tell me to slip into something more comfortable?” I smirk, feeling brave.
His eyes darken. “As cliché as it sounds, and at the great risk of being kicked out, yeah. This is exactly where I ask you to slip into something more comfortable.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” I say.
“Go on…”
“I couldn’t get the zip undone to take it off, and I didn’t want to call for help because I knew you were coming here.”
His eyes widen. “And who do you normally call for help, may I ask?”
“Wyatt.” I giggle.
He shakes his head in disgust. “This is one of those moments where you need to lie to me, Charlotte.”
I laugh. Oh, he’s fun.
“I’ll ask you one more time: who do you normally call for help?”
“Beverly, my assistant.” I smile.
“Much better.”
I smile goofily as I take another drink of my champagne. The air between us is electric. Our lips touch, and I feel so naughty and carefree. We get carried away and he leans forward, accidentally knocking my glass of champagne over. It spills over the bench and onto my dress.
“Oh, fuck!” he barks, and without missing a beat, he begins to unbutton his white shirt. All I can do is watch with my heart in my throat. What is he doing?