Mr Spencer

by Swan, T L

  “No, Spence.” I smile sarcastically and release my finger from his grip. “No man could ever be as handsome as you.”

  Our eyes linger on each other, the air between us crackling.

  Bree fans her face with her hand. “Good lord, the sexual tension between you two is ridiculous.”

  I drop my head and chuckle, embarrassed that we just forgot she was here with us.

  This man makes me giddy.

  “A word, Charlotte,” Alexander demands, appearing from nowhere.

  I turn, suddenly remembering that I’m here with him. Damn it, how could I forget that?

  I fake a smile. “Of course.” I suddenly feel awkward. “Alex, please meet my friends Spencer and Brielle,” I say.

  “We know each other,” Spencer says flatly.

  Alex nods, and they glare at each other.

  I frown at the obvious animosity between them.

  This is awkward.

  “I’ll see you later, Bree. It was lovely meeting you.” I’m in a fluster.

  “You, too, Lottie. Come back and see us later.” Bree smiles warmly.

  “I will!” I call over my shoulder as Alexander leads me through the ballroom, over to the wall at the back of the room.

  “What are you doing talking with Spencer Jones?” he asks angrily.

  I frown. “What does it matter to you?”

  “Do you know who he is?”

  I twist my lip in annoyance. “No, why don’t you tell me who you think he is?”

  “He’s the biggest womaniser in all of London.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  “Everybody knows that, Charlotte. Take a look at the tabloids. Is Edward aware that you know him?” he whispers.

  “He’s Brielle’s friend.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t even know him.”

  He stares at me for a moment, trying to work out if I’m telling the truth.

  “I’m not stupid, you know?” I add.

  “I know you’re not.” He rubs my arm. “Just… whatever you do, don’t mess with him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you will be the next bit of town gossip.” He holds two fingers in the air. “Spencer Jones dates two women in the same day. Two.”

  My heart drops but I smile on cue—that fake smile that has been ingrained in me through my years of schooling. The same fake smile that I wear when Edward is scolding me in public for someone I have talked to who he didn’t approve of.

  “Alexander, I have no interest in Spencer Jones. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom.”

  “Of course. I’ll go sit down and wait for you over there.” He gestures over to the table we are sitting at.

  “I’ll see you in a moment.”

  I walk out through the foyer and into the bathroom. I push into a cubicle and sit on top of the closed toilet seat.

  Regret, annoyance, and disappointment curse through me, all rolled into one stupid lead ball that sits in the base of my stomach.

  Part of me wants to go home right now. My night is ruined, all because of one snide comment from Alex, even though I know he was only trying to be a good friend and look out for me.

  I hate that Spencer has this reputation. I hate that everyone knows it, and I hate that I enjoy his company as much as I do.

  His friends were so nice.

  I exhale heavily as I try to come to grip with the reality of who Spencer is. No matter how honest he is, everyone has already made their judgements on his reputation. I don’t feel that the two sides of Spencer correlate at all, at least not in my mind.

  I finish up in the bathroom; wash my hands, and I stare at my reflection in the mirror, giving myself a silent pep talk.

  Go out there and finish the night. Just put the information to one side and process it tomorrow once you’re at home.

  I reapply my gold lipstick.

  I wish I was here with Spencer… and that nobody else knew who the hell he was.

  Spencer

  I stare at her from across the room. She’s sitting with him, laughing, talking, completely in her comfort zone with the table full of London’s aristocratic society. She’s one of them, and I can’t seem to connect the sweet, innocent girl I’m attracted to to the Charlotte Prescott she is.

  I wish she wasn’t one of them, and just a normal girl from Nottingham instead.

  “You can’t take your fucking eyes off her for a moment, can you?” Seb sighs.

  I sip my beer. “Nope.”

  “How is this going to go?” Masters frowns. “She isn’t allowed to be seen even talking to you. What exactly do you think is going to happen here, Spence?”

  I roll my eyes and exhale heavily, choosing not to answer that particular question.

  The music grows louder, and people flock to the dance floor now that the formalities are officially over.

  I haven’t spoken one word to Charlotte since Alexander dragged her away from me.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I take it out to read the message. It’s from her.

  Hi

  I smile and text back.

  Hi.

  She replies.

  Meet me at the bar?

  “She’s texting me as we speak.” I smirk to my friends, and then, without thinking, I stand and make my way to the bar as she requested.

  She appears beside me a moment later, and my heart flutters in my chest.

  “Hello.” She smiles up at me, her face full of hope.

  “I don’t like you here with him,” I tell her honestly.

  “We’re just friends, I promise.” She glances over at Alexander who is talking to a group of people, while we are shielded from the crowd. “You and Alex don’t get along?” She makes it sound like a statement and a question.

  “Not at all. It started with work a few years back. Since then, we’ve had a few run-ins with each other over the years. He doesn’t get on with Masters or Seb, either.”

  “Masters?”

  “Julian. His last name is Masters. He had a run in with Alex at work, too.”

  “What does Julian do?”

  “He’s a judge.”

  “Oh.” She frowns.

  “He will warn you away from me, no doubt,” I mutter into my drink. “Apparently I’m the devil.” I raise my eyebrow in a silent dare.

  Defend him to me. See what happens.

  She stares at me for a moment, and I have no idea what she’s thinking.

  Have I misjudged this whole thing with us?

  “We haven’t spoken about you at all,” she tells me.

  My eyes hold hers and I know that she’s lying. He did warn her away from me, and God, I would like to rearrange his face for his efforts. Unfortunately, I’m a lover not a fighter.

  What I should do is let my friend Joshua Stanton take care of him instead. Joshua cage fights… for fun. That bastard is mean as shit.

  “I’d like to see you alone.”

  Her eyes hold mine. “I’d like that, too.”

  “I can come to you. Tonight?” I offer.

  She frowns again, her mind going into overdrive.

  “Give me a key to your room, Charlotte. I’ll wait for your guards to leave and sneak in. They won’t even know I’ve been. We can have coffee and dessert.” I shrug. “We can just talk…”

  Her chest rises and falls heavily.

  I can almost hear her brain ticking.

  She glances over to the side of the ballroom, and I follow her gaze, only to see Wyatt standing silently, his back against the wall. I hadn’t even noticed him, I was too preoccupied with York.

  “They will see me give you the key,” she whispers. “And how will I get into my room when I get home?”

  “Leave the key somewhere here for me to pick up without being seen, and then just ask them for another key at reception when you get there. Tell them you left it in the room.”

  “Where?”

  I think for a moment. “Go out the foyer. There’s a storeroom. Just
text me to tell me where you leave it.”

  Her eyes hold mine as she swallows a lump in her throat.

  I link our pinky fingers again. “I need to see you alone,” I whisper. “And this is the only way we will get any privacy.”

  Charlotte licks her lips. “Okay?” She nods softly, not saying another word before she heads off in the direction of the foyer.

  I turn and order my drink, elation filling me.

  Finally.

  * * *

  I clutch the key in my pocket and casually stroll through the grand foyer of the Four Seasons. Charlotte left the function an hour ago, but she’s only just text me to give me the all clear.

  Don’t get caught, don’t get caught, I remind myself.

  I don’t really care if I get caught, but not getting to see her if I do has me worried.

  I’m having trouble walking to her… I want to run.

  Fast.

  I get into the elevator and scan the key. The penthouse floor lights up, and I exhale heavily, my heart racing. Being nervous around a woman is new for me.

  Don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up.

  The doors eventually open. I drop my shoulders, exhale heavily, and I walk out into the foyer. A large set of black double doors stand before me, and I tentatively turn the door handle.

  It’s open, and I walk in.

  Charlotte is in front of me, still in her ballgown and just as beautiful as I remember. My heart skips a beat at the sight of her.

  Her eyes search mine.

  I smile softly and then step forward to take her into my arms. “Alone at last.”

  Charlotte

  He’s here, and I’m finally in his arms. Arms that are big and warm and hold onto me tight. The smell of his aftershave is all around me. He’s tall—so much taller than me without my shoes on—and his hair is messed up to perfection.

  Leaning down, he kisses me slowly and with just the right amount of pressure. He smiles as he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear.

  “I’ve been through torture tonight watching you with him.”

  “He’s just a friend.”

  “Does he know that?” He takes my hand and leads me farther into the apartment.

  This is my house. I should take the lead—be brave for once.

  “Would you like a drink?” I ask with fake confidence.

  He kisses my fingertips, his eyes locked on mine. “Please.”

  Oh, he’s just so…

  I guide him to the kitchen where he stops me and spins me toward him again. I stare up at him and feel the air leaving my lungs. Spencer has this intensity about him that I’ve never seen on him before tonight. I don’t know if it’s because we are completely alone for the first time, because we’re sneaking around, or because we’re in my apartment and we both know that anything could happen. But everything feels magnified tonight. Every glance, every smile, every touch.

  Perhaps it’s my nerves that are making everything seem so… extreme.

  He takes my face in his hands. “I have to kiss you. It’s been too long since I’ve felt your lips.” His mouth dusts mine, and his tongue slowly slides out and runs across my lips. I feel the thrill of it all the way to my toes. He goes deeper and his tongue connects with mine, softly, as if coaxing me to come out and play.

  I smile against him and put my arms around his broad neck.

  He walks me backwards into the kitchen, and then we stop for a moment, and he holds me in his arms, looking down at me.

  The air swirls between us and we stare at each other as we drink in our close proximity.

  His eyes are smouldering, and I can feel the power his body is emanating, he licks his lips, and I can see he’s debating whether or not he should take this slow.

  Please…

  “Where are your wineglasses?” he asks smoothly.

  “R-right,” I stammer. “Good idea.” I point to a cupboard in a fluster. I need a drink… or ten. I take two champagne flutes, grab a bottle of Grange, and pass them over to him.

  He smirks when he sees the label. “The good stuff.” Little does he know I just ordered this in a panic from room service only twenty minutes ago. The cork pops, and he pours the bubbly liquid into our glasses.

  He passes me a flute and then holds his glass up in the air.

  “What are we toasting?” I smile shyly.

  “Our first date.”

  “This isn’t our first date.”

  “That other one didn’t count. That was just a practice run. I completely screwed that up. Erase it from your memory. I want a do-over.”

  I smile, relieved that he acknowledged our last disastrous date and I clink my glass with his. “To do-overs,” I whisper.

  He touches my glass and takes a slow, controlled sip. His eyes hold mine and he slowly licks his lips.

  What is that look? “What’s going on in that mind of yours, Mr Spencer?” I whisper.

  “I’m wondering what the hell is going on here.”

  I frown.

  “You see, I…” His voice trails off, and he places his drink down, stepping towards me to take me in his arms. His lips drop to my neck, and then his tongue comes out and he slowly licks me.

  My insides melt and I close my eyes. “You see what?” I ask. “What were you going to say?”

  “I’m wondering what’s so different with you. Why does my heart race when you look at me?” He breathes against my skin.

  I smile and look up at the ceiling as his mouth slowly caresses my neck.

  “I’m wondering why the fuck you make me so nervous, like nobody ever has before.”

  He nips me with his teeth, and I flinch.

  “I’m wondering how just the sound of your voice over the phone can make my cock so hard that it weeps.”

  I whimper as his lips begin to assault my neck with more force. His hands have now dropped to my arse.

  “So many mysteries,” I whisper, trying to control my breathing.

  “You’re the eighth wonder of the world.” He chuckles, moving his kisses to my shoulder before he trails his tongue across the skin there.

  “Why do you lick me like that?” I ask, breathless.

  He lifts his eyes to mine and cups my cheeks. “Because I need to taste you.”

  My stomach clenches. “When you say things like that… it does things to me.”

  “What things?”

  “Strange things that make me feel my pulse where I’ve never felt it before.”

  With his dark eyes locked on mine, he trails his fingers down my face, down over my breasts, and then lower.

  “Here?” he whispers as he gently rubs his fingers over my sex through my dress. “Do you feel your pulse here?”

  I nod, my erratic breathing ragged, desperate to suck in precious air.

  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 pau
se, 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.”