by Leanne Davis
Poor Ronny could only stare from Spencer to Erica, his mouth open in shock at the gist of their conversation.
“Look,” Ronny suddenly interjected, “there’s obviously something between you two. I don’t think I need to get involved.”
“Ronny, wait! No. There’s nothing between him and me,” Erica exclaimed, looking almost desperate with longing towards the asshole.
Spencer didn’t take his eyes off Erica or look at the man she planned to take home, as he said, “Get out of here, Ronny. Before I rip off your balls off and put them in my pocket. Erica’s not going home with you tonight, or ever.”
Ronny looked one more time at Erica, then backed up, turned, and almost ran away. Erica balled up her fist and stomped her foot. “That was entirely unnecessary. That was stupid, macho bullshit. I can’t believe you did that.”
“So was using him just to get your point across to me.”
“You scared the poor man. He was very nice to me. Far nicer than you’ve been.”
He sighed. “All right. You made your point. Get in the car.”
“I had no point to get across to you. You were very clear about your point to me. I simply didn’t want to be alone tonight. But since you’ve now guaranteed that. Please, just go away.”
“I’ll drive,” Spencer said, as he took the keys from her hand and got in. She sputtered and cursed at him, but got into her car. She didn’t say another word to him and the icy silence grew thick until he pulled into his own driveway.
“I want to go home.”
“No. You said you didn’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Well, I don’t want to spend it with you.”
He slammed the door on her, cutting her off mid-sentence. She got out, so angry she stumbled over the cracks in the driveway. He kept walking into his house after pocketing her keys.
She stopped up short and put her hands on her hips. “I’m not going in there.”
He stopped too. “You said you were looking for me so we could talk and you spent an unusual amount of effort trying to find me. So we’re going to do that.”
“Talk?”
“Yeah. Talk.” He turned towards his house as if he just commanded her to follow without further hesitation. Of course, he knew better.
“Erica.”
He turned back at hearing her voice and sighed. “What?”
“Repeat after me, it’s quite simple, ‘We’re going to talk, Erica.’”
He rolled his eyes. “God, not that again.”
“You already said my name back there, so say it again when you’re meaning too.”
His jaw tightened in annoyance. She got her way with him better than anyone else on earth. How did she keep managing to do it? He gritted his teeth and muttered softly, “Erica.”
She smiled as if he’d just given her a diamond ring. She’d won this battle in their strange, ongoing standoff. Spencer turned on his heel and stormed through his front door.
****
Erica followed Spencer into the house and the living room. She stood there as he threw her keys on the counter, before turning towards her. They were separated by the couch and he stared at her. She clasped her hands in front of her.
“How long have you lived here?”
He shook his head. “You didn’t track me down tonight for this banal conversation bullshit.”
“You think I tracked you down just to have sex with you? You really don’t know me very well at all. I tracked you down for exactly this: banal conversational bullshit. How else can you get to know someone?”
“I don’t.”
She sighed. “Ah, that again. You don’t. Won’t. Can’t. Well, you can, you will, you are.” He didn’t answer and crossed his arms over his chest. She stared at him, and finally nodded. Fine. She could play his games. She walked over to the couch, taking off her blouse as she went, before sitting down and bouncing on the couch, as if testing its springiness. “I see. You’d rather just get on with it. Why not here? We can just get it done fast and I’ll be gone before the hour. That’s what you prefer, right? What you like?”
His eye twitched. “And when Rob walks in?”
“Oh, well, he could just join us, don’t you think? He seems nice enough. Quite hot, in fact. So sure, why not?”
He didn’t answer and she raised her eyebrows at him. “What are you doing, Doc?”
“Just being you.”
“How exactly is that?”
“Blasé, rude, cold, oh, and quick. The quicker, the better so you can get me out of here as fast as you can.”
“Yeah, that is me. So why do you want anything to do with me?”
“Because we slept together, and I suddenly feel differently about you.”
“Your problem, not mine.”
God, he could be so flippant, and cutting. No one had ever been so rude to her before. But then… he kept coming back to her when he didn’t have to. “Then why didn’t you let me leave with Ronny? You acted like a jealous ass back there; so if you don’t really care about me, why did you bother bringing me back here?”
She had some good points. He turned away. “What do you want from me?”
Erica sighed. “For you to simply answer my question. How many years have you lived here?”
He was silent for so long, she swore he wouldn’t answer her. His shoulders sagged as he finally admitted, “Five years.”
She felt like she was asking him for the codes to a nuclear bomb. He managed to make simple, first date, normal conversation sound weird and imposing. “And before that?”
“Before that, we were in and out of places; and before that, we were homeless.”
“We? Meaning you and Rob?”
“Yes. It’s always me and Rob. Although, for a few years, it was me, Rob and Joelle. Why don’t you ask her? She was around for a lot of it. Probably remembers most of it better than I do.”
“No. I’m asking you, about you, Spencer. Where’s your piano?”
Silence, then his arms crossed. Finally, he said, “Upstairs.”
“Why? Why not put it down here? You’ve certainly got the room.”
“Because I don’t want to look at it.”
She didn’t get him and tilted her head. “Why? Why don’t you want to look at it?”
“Because I just don’t. Is this line of questioning really necessary?”
“Yes.”
“Why is it necessary?”
“Because you owe me. You were a total prick at the bar. Then you brought me here. You owe me some conversation.”
“I don’t owe you anything.” His jaw tightened. He didn’t like to be pushed or made to feel like he had to do anything. Even something as simple and stupid as a conversation.
“You owe me a conversation; is it really that hard? That awful? Are you sorry about what you said to me at the bar? Because we could talk about that instead.”
“Should I be?”
She dropped her arms and nearly shrieked in frustration. “Of course, you should be! God, you were rude. Crude even. I didn’t appreciate it.”
His lips twitched. “It wasn’t meant for your approval. It was meant to get you to leave me alone. Yet, you still came with me.”
“You scared away my date.”
“Were you really going to let him come home with you?”
“No. I would have taken him to a motel. I don’t take one-night-stands home.”
His expression changed. It wasn’t exactly a frown, but his face definitely reflected some kind of displeasure. He strangely didn’t like hearing about her having casual sex. “Do you have them often?”
“No. But, yes, I have had them. Now are you sorry? Did you mean it? What you said to me? Or were you trying to piss me off so I’d leave you alone?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe I was trying to piss you off so you’d leave me alone.”
“Why? Why do you keep insisting I leave you alone?”
“Because y
ou talk a lot. You ask a lot of questions.”
She stepped closer. “Yet, you waited for me this morning.”
His eyelids lowered so she couldn’t read his expression. “You read way too much into things.”
She could not do this anymore. She could not argue with Spencer and try to convince him to want to be with her. She wasn’t made that way. He would either be a big boy and take responsibility for them, or not. She came around the couch. Nearer to him. “I’ll leave. You want someone like Tamira, someone to screw one moment, and leave the next, then have at it! We’ll just chalk up what happened in my office as a mistake. An erroneous, one-time mistake. I found you tonight because I wanted to know for sure what we did. But if you really feel that way, we’ll go back to how things were before. It’s totally fine. I can do that.”
Erica stared, but he didn’t answer. He didn’t deny it or try to contradict her. She put her hands out. “Give me my keys please.”
He waited and didn’t move a muscle. Finally, he said, “I can’t.”
“You can’t what? Give me my keys?”
“I can’t go back to how things were before.”
She paused. He said it. Those few words that obliterated everything else he said and did towards her. Then he turned, and looked out the sliding door, even though it was so dark, there was nothing to see.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know what it means, okay? I don’t know. It’s all new for me.” She bit her tongue. His tone was surly, almost rude. But then… she had to listen to the words and read between them. He didn’t like admitting that he wanted her. But he could not deny it.
“I’m not one of those girls you were with at the bar. I’m not a little girl who gets flattered that a guy as hot as you wants to have sex, or someone who’ll accept however you want to treat me. I’m not that young, or that simple. But if that’s what you want, please tell me now, so I don’t make a fool of myself any longer than necessary.”
Quiet. Silence. Then, “You’re not making a fool of yourself.”
She nodded her satisfaction at his back. His neck was scrunched up with tension. She almost reached out to massage some of the knots from his shoulders that she was sure this conversation was giving him. But she knew better than to touch him. He could not talk and touch her. Like when he was touching her he could barely talk. He was not an easy man. “I will not accept being treated the way you treated me at the bar. If that’s what I have to look forward to, tell me now, and I’ll go home. I mean it, I am not doing this like that.”
He nodded and turned just his head towards her.
“Well?” she snapped.
“Okay. But I don’t know what to do with this.”
She bit her lip. Was he for real? He was that stressed about having to… what? Not be a rude bastard to her? “You could say, ‘Hi Erica. How are you today?’ Start there.”
His lips quirked up. “That’s it? That’s all you want me to say?”
She shook her head. “Yes, that’s enough.”
He stared at her. When she smiled at him, he blinked.
“What are you so surprised about?”
“That you’re here.”
“Erica. That you’re here, Erica.”
His lips twitched into an almost smile, then he said, “That you’re here, Erica.”
She looked into his eyes. “Why don’t you show me to your room?”
“That’s it?”
“What? For talking? Yes, for now, that’s it.”
He stepped forward. “All I had to do was say your name?”
She smiled. “I told you that. You make things way harder than they need to be.”
He turned, and she followed. He took her straight to what she assumed was his bedroom. It was large, and must have been the master bedroom judging by the bathroom attached to it. As with everything associated with Spencer, it was cold, plain, simple, and obsessively clean. No personality. No junk. No more feeling beyond what you might find in a military barracks.
But it was clean. His bed was even made.
“It’s not much.”
She snapped her head around. “Is that what you thought I was thinking?”
He shrugged. “Just comparisons, your life and mine, kind of pathetic.”
His gaze was not on her and he was avoiding hers. She realized how seeing his things was one way to explain him. He didn’t want her to see him or anything about him: not his car, his house, or even his piano. He didn’t want her to see anything of his that would give her the chance to judge him, and see him as lacking so much, which, he felt confident, she would do. “I’ve never once suggested you were less than me. You did. Not I. Keep that in mind about me.”
She put her hand onto his forearm and wrapped her fingertips around it, the tendons and muscles warming under her hand. Tugging on his arm, which was in his pocket, she brought it to her waist as she moved to close the gap between them. Her other hand went up his arm to his shoulder, until her fingers gently caressed his neck muscles. She moved slowly, tenderly with only her fingertips brushing over his skin. She moved against him and felt him breathing deeply, almost shuddering under her soft ministrations. Somehow, she knew there wasn’t a lot of gentleness and caring in Spencer’s history.
She turned them, and pushed him gently toward the bed. She stood between his legs and took his face into her hands, cupping his cheek. She brushed her fingers over the strong line of his jaw, all the while, looking into his dark eyes. God, he was so damn beautiful for a man. With him sitting down, she was just barely taller than he. She bent closer until her lips touched his in a soft whisper of motion. Moving her lips over his upper lip, and then down to his lower lip, she touched him gently, slowly, and softly. Her hands moved from his face and slid into his silky hair. She kissed his mouth, his cheeks, and his eyelids. His eyes remained shut, and although he would not look at her, he was there, with her, all the same. Way more than any other time. He was letting her kiss him as slowly and gently as she chose.
Opening his eyes, he pinned his gaze on her. She looked back and smiled. His breath hitched and he suddenly pulled her towards him, burying his face between her breasts. She could feel the warm moistness of his breath through her tank top and bra. He ran his hands up and down her back, holding her tightly against him as if she were his last, dying breath. She knew there was more to him than she understood and far more than she could guess. His need and desire for her seemed like too much, and he didn’t know how to handle it.
She stood up straight and lifted off her top, dropping it to the floor. His dark eyes stared at her. Although she wished she were pounds lighter, and years younger, he didn’t seem to notice. She always wore a plain bra, tan or white, without any lace. The bra she wore today was quadruply hooked, made of thick cotton, and had an underwire. Being a double D cup, there was nothing small or wispy about any of her bras. She couldn’t help that. At least, she felt comfortable; and no way in hell was she willing to be uncomfortable.
His huge hands came up, with long, graceful fingers that were dark and tanned. He slid his hands to the front of her bra, and over her breasts. She closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure. He touched her almost reverently. It was far more tender than his blank-eyed stares suggested he could be. He slid his fingers under her bra straps and slipped them off before his hands addressed the back clasp. He undid it and her bra slid down her arms to the floor. His mouth was instantly on her. His hands wrapped around her waist, holding her, and his lips latched onto one erect nipple, which was already aching for his hot tongue.
He took over then, sliding his hands into her jeans and lower, down between her legs. He undid the jeans and pulled them off, slipping them down her legs. She was naked before him. His eyes traced the long line of her legs, the curve of her waist, her ample breasts, and right up to her face. His observation was slow, long and thorough. Not a muscle in his face twitched and his expression didn’t change.
For a woman who had lived for th
irty-two years fairly comfortable in her own skin, leading her own life, now that Erica was suddenly under his scrutiny, she felt shy, and awkward. The thought of not being good enough, or pretty enough, as the young girls, Spencer was previously entertaining crossed her mind, although Erica hated to admit it.
But when she looked into his eyes, and saw his unmasked need for her, she knew there was something more here. He didn’t just like her. Or just think she was hot. He didn’t just want her either. It was… a lot more. He felt it. She felt it. He had become a master at hiding it. But at rare times, when he couldn’t, the depths of what she saw in his eyes nearly caused her to sink to her knees. There was terrible pain, terrible self-loathing, and terrible rage. Yet, for reasons she could never quite fathom, he seemed to find some form of comfort, or peace, something he needed, and seemed to receive from being near her. His feelings for her were more than she was pretty sure any man had ever felt for her.
She caught his face between her hands and brought her mouth down to his. She kissed his lips gently: his upper lip, then his lower lip before sucking on his mouth until he opened it to let her tongue inside. Finally, he was really kissing her. She groaned at the unexpected tugging she felt deep inside her. Her blood seemed like it went up several degrees as it rushed through her veins. She straddled him, wrapping her legs around his middle.
He moved back, taking her with him, and laying her down on top of his bedspread. He moved away and discarded his shirt, jeans, socks and underwear, returning alongside her in moments. His hands felt her waist, and went back to her breasts. She shivered, his warm hands felt so good on her skin. Warm, smooth as silk, and practically igniting everywhere he touched.
He was undeniably gorgeous. She knew that already. But naked? He was long and lean, his well-toned muscles clearly defined under his coffee-colored skin. Her hands slid to his abdomen, and his muscles flexed at her fingers grazing his chest, and sliding down to his thick erection. He tensed, as one hand wrapped around him, and sighed at her tenderness. His eyes were still closed, but he suddenly turned towards her, and pushed his hand into her. It was so quick, hot, and instantaneous. Startled, she pulled back. Okay, so he didn’t like her touching him. She withdrew her hand, surprised at the invisible boundaries he established. Very odd. But it told her a whole lot about him.
