by Swan, T L
I look different.
I feel different.
It’s as if Spencer has awakened something inside of me that has been dying to get out for years. Suddenly, I want to dress sexily because he makes me feel sexy. I’ve had this dress for ages, but I’ve never worn it, not once. I’ve put it on before but taken it off before I went out because I thought it was too much.
But I want to be too much for him. I want to be everything.
I hear the front door open, and I smile with excitement.
“Angel?” he calls from downstairs.
“Coming!”
I take one last look at myself and make my way to the stairs. Spencer stares up at me and gives me a slow sexy smile as I walk towards him.
His hands are tucked inside his suit pockets, and the way he is looking at me might just set me on fire.
“Hi.” I smile bashfully when I reach him.
“Hi,” he whispers, his eyes dropping to my lips.
There it is.
The air crackles between us. “You look fucking beautiful.” He takes my hand and kisses the back of it. He turns my hand over and his tongue darts out to slowly lick my wrist.
Oh, he’s just so…
“Thank you,” I murmur, distracted by the feel of his tongue on my skin.
“Maybe we should stay home and eat English instead,” he whispers darkly.
My insides melt. He means he wants me to eat him instead.
I lean forward and take his face in my hands. I kiss him, softly at first, then deeper. I kiss him with everything I have because, damn, he makes me feel everything.
Spencer inhales sharply, his hands coming around to my behind. “Don’t kiss me like that, angel, not unless you want to be flat on your back with your legs over my shoulders within the next thirty seconds.”
I giggle against his lips. “So romantic, Mr Spencer.”
He chuckles as he holds me close. “Four nights,” he murmurs into my hair.
“What?” I frown.
“This is the fourth night in a row that we’ve seen each other.”
“You say that like it’s a rarity for you.” I smirk.
“It is. I’ve never seen a woman four nights in a row before.”
I smile up at him and straighten his tie. “I guess I’d better make this a perfect date for you then, hadn’t I?”
His eyes twinkle with something I haven’t seen before. “You just have to turn up for my night to be perfect.”
We stare at each other and something runs between us. I don’t know what it is exactly. Affection? Closeness? Electricity? Love?
I lean up and kiss his big soft lips. “You make me happy, Spencer Jones,” I whisper.
He grins brightly, almost looking bashful. It makes my heart melt.
“Do you want to go eat some Italian now?”
“What about eating my English?” I smirk.
“Oh.” He chuckles. “It’s your English now, is it?” He grabs my behind and pulls me against his erection.
“Yes, you’re my English. And no to that. We’re going out.” I take him by the hand and lead him to the door. He tries to grab my behind and I swat him away. “We are going out, Spence,” I repeat.
He laughs. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Italian it is.”
* * *
Four hours later and I am being twirled around the dance floor while smiling dreamily up at my gorgeous date.
We’ve talked, laughed, and eaten. It’s really surprising how well we actually get along. Even without the crazy attraction and mind-blowing sex, we have something special going on between us.
“I told Sarah about us today,” I admit.
He smirks down at me and raises his eyebrow. “And what did you tell her, exactly?”
One of my hands is resting in his, while his other hand is resting on my hip. As usual, we’re the only ones on the dance floor. I love how he doesn’t care if anyone else is dancing. I think he likes it because he gets to hold me in his arms.
“I told her I was seeing you… casually.”
“Oh?” His eyes hold mine as he waits for me to elaborate.
“Although there was that thing you said yesterday.”
He spins me. “What thing?”
I hesitate. “When you told Wyatt and Anthony that I was your girlfriend.”
He frowns. “I did, didn’t I?”
I smile goofily up at him. “Uh-huh.”
“What possessed me to say that?”
“At a guess, I would think that if you told my bodyguards you were my boyfriend, it was probably because you didn’t want me to see anybody else.”
“Really?” He smirks.
I nod. “Uh-huh.”
“Do you want to see other men?” he asks.
“No.” I frown. “Do you want to see others?”
“What would happen if I did?”
I stop dancing. “Then I would leave you to it!” I snap, annoyed. “I don’t share, Spencer.”
He laughs as he pulls me closer. “Are you getting possessive of me, Prescott?” I pull out of his arms, but he brings me right back to him. “I’m joking with you.” He leans down and whispers in my ear, “I don’t want to see anybody but you.”
“That wasn’t funny,” I whisper back.
I feel him smile above me as he holds me close.
“What is this?” I ask.
“What’s what?”
“This,” I murmur. “Between us. What is it?”
He smiles down and me and then kisses me softly. “I don’t know, but it’s fucking good.”
I smirk, mollified for the moment, and we continue to sway to the music.
“Maybe we should try this boyfriend girlfriend thing,” he finally says.
I press my lips together to hide my smile. “Are you sure? I’ll be a high maintenance girlfriend. I’m not entirely sure if you’re up to the job.”
He spins me as he chuckles. “No?”
“I’ll need lots of massages with oil, and...” I exhale heavily. “There’s the whole teaching me about sex thing. That’s a full-time job in itself.”
He smiles mischievously.
“And my family are a nightmare,” I add.
“I don’t want to date your family.”
“And I’m setting up my own business soon, so I’ll be working a lot.”
He stops dancing. “You’re going to do it?” he asks, suddenly falling serious.
“Do you think I can?”
“I know you can.”
My eyes search his. “You know, you’re the only person who believes I’m strong enough to do this.”
He starts swaying us to the music again. “Isn’t that what boyfriends are meant to do? Believe in their girlfriends.”
I smile against his lips. “I’m glad we met, Spencer Jones.”
“Me, too, angel. Me, too.”
* * *
We’re in bed facing each other. It’s late but we don’t want to sleep.
We’re holding hands and staring at each other in the semi lit room.
It’s my sixth day with Spencer, and it’s been six days of utter bliss.
Six days of having this wonderful new person in my life who pleases me beyond anything I’ve ever dreamt of.
Tonight, over drinks in a bar, we wrote a business plan together. He helped me with costings, and we worked out steps in order of what I needed to do.
I think I’m really going to do this.
I feel like I’ve met the other half of myself.
I smile softly at him, and he reaches up to brush his thumb over my bottom lip. “What are you thinking about, Angel Leroo?”
I giggle at him remembering my lie from the other day. “I’m thinking that being a ballerina is really hard work.”
His eyes dance with delight. “What other job would you consider doing?”
“Maybe I could be your private call girl?”
His eyes flicker with arousal. “We would have to do a lot of training to get you up to ca
ll girl standards.”
I crawl over him and rub my sex along his length. His eyes hold mine as the electricity buzzes between us. “Can we start now?”
“As a matter of fact, we can.”
* * *
“Just a few more stores,” Spencer says. He’s leading me through the shopping centre on Thursday night.
“I’m tired,” I moan as he pulls me along. God, the man is on a shopping spree from Hell. We’ve looked in at least a hundred shops in the last two hours… at least that’s how it feels.
“Stop whining, woman. You’ve got hours to go before bedtime.” He gestures to Wyatt and Anthony, telling them that we are going across the street. He’s grown accustomed to having them with us a lot more easily than I thought he would.
“We’re not having sex tonight,” I warn him.
“So you say.” He smirks. “You’ll do as you’re told.” He cranes his neck. “I just want to look in this toy shop up here. I think they might have what I’m looking for.”
I smile as I walk behind him. Who knew that Spencer Jones, the player, would be so worried about getting just the right gift for his five-year-old niece?
He can act tough all he wants. I know better. The man is a pussy cat.
“Spencer?” a man says from somewhere behind us.
We turn on the street, and Spencer’s face falls immediately. He steps back as if he’s just received a physical blow.
The man is in his mid to late fifties. He’s good-looking and well dressed.
“You got a hug for your old man?” the man asks. Spencer stares at him, but he doesn’t reply.
The man turns to me and smiles, holding his hand out to shake mine. “Hello, I’m Arthur.”
My eyes widen. He is the mirror image of Spencer… or vice versa.
His father.
Spencer grabs my hand and pulls me behind his back, as if I need protecting from his dad.
“Don’t speak to her. Don’t you dare fucking speak to her,” Spencer growls.
The man’s face falls. “Son…”
“Don’t call me that!” Spencer snaps.
I look between the two men as they stare at each other, and my heart drops. Spence is so hurt. What on earth did his father do?
“When are you going to forgive me?” Arthur asks.
Spencer glares at him. “When Hell freezes over.” He turns and storms off, dragging me along behind him. I have to practically run to keep up.
He’s physically shaken.
I stay silent as we walk, and once out of sight, Spencer turns to Wyatt and Anthony. “That man is not to come near Charlotte under any circumstances, do you understand me?”
Wyatt and Anthony look back at Arthur to get a better visual. “Okay.”
Spencer clenches his jaw as he turns and powers through the people.
“Where are we going?” I call.
“Home,” he says sharply. “I want to go home.”
* * *
I lie in the deep hot bath between Spencer’s legs. It’s late.
Spencer has said about five words since we saw his father four hours ago.
He stares straight ahead, and his jaw is continuously clenching.
His hands run over my breasts and back down to my stomach again and again, while he remains lost in thought.
I turn and kiss his bicep softly.
“When was the last time you saw your father?” I ask.
“Ten years ago.”
I frown, that’s a long time.
Spencer takes the soap and lathers his hands before he begins to wash my back without saying another word.
“You don’t get on?” I ask.
“I despise him.”
“Why?” I whisper.
He stares straight ahead for a long time, eventually kissing my temple. “When my mother was pregnant with her last child…” He pauses and frowns, as if it pains him to say the next words out loud. “He got her baby sister pregnant.”
My eyes widen. “He was sleeping with your mother’s younger sister?”
“Yes.”
“How old were you?”
“Two.”
I frown as I process the information. “What happened?”
“My aunt was seventeen…” His voice trails off. “She killed herself before the baby was born.”
My mouth falls open. Dear God.
“How old was your mother?”
“Twenty-two with three children under three.”
I roll over to face him. He stares at me, his eyes cold.
“And you have always hated him?”
“Just the opposite. I loved him once,” he says sadly.
My heart drops.
“Every sports game, every school concert, I would look for him.”
I lie down on his chest as I listen, I hate this story.
“For years I would lie in bed every night crying, and I’d pray to God that I could be smarter so that Dad would come back and love me.”
My eyes fill with tears as I imagine him being so small and crying himself to sleep. “Spence,” I whisper.
“When I was twelve, my mother met my stepfather, and for the first time in my life I had a man around who was actually interested in me. Then, as I got older and I understood the dynamics of what Dad had actually done, I got angry and started to hate him for being who he was. What kind of man sleeps with his pregnant wife’s sister? My aunty was only seventeen when he started sleeping with her.” He shakes his head in disgust. “What kind of man walks away from his own children?”
He drops his head back to the edge of the bath, lost with a faraway look in his eyes as if he’s transgressed to that time. “Masters, Seb, and I found out where Dad lived when we were fourteen. We went to his house and broke in when he wasn’t home, and we smashed up everything he owned.”
“Did that make you feel any better?”
“No.” He clenches his jaw tight. “I hate that I’m like him.”
I frown instantly. “What? You’re not like him, Spencer.”
His sad eyes find mine. “Yeah, I am. All my life, all I’ve ever heard is how much I’m like my father.”
“Only in the way you look,” I huff. “Spence, if you were like your dad you would have taken my virginity without a single thought for my wellbeing.”
He runs his fingers through my hair as he looks at me.
“Spencer, is this why you’ve never let yourself get close to anyone?”
He blinks in surprise.
“You’re so scared that you’re like your father, the thought of hurting someone horrifies you and you’d rather be alone.”
He clenches his jaw, and I know that’s exactly how he feels.
I crawl up over him. “Baby,” I whisper. “You’re nothing like your father.”
His eyes search mine. “How do you know?”
I smile. “I just know. If you were like him, you’d be on your fourth wife by now and have six kids to six different women.”
He stares at me.
“You haven’t even had a girlfriend before, you big dope.”
A trace of a smile crosses his face.
“When I look at you I see an honourable man with good morals—a man I am proud to be with.”
We stare at each other for a moment before he crushes his arms around me and holds me close. I smile into his neck.
I think I just found Spencer Jones’s baggage.
* * *
Big, warm hands slide around my waist from behind, and the smell of his heavenly soap lingers around me.
“Good morning, Mr Spencer.” I smile as he turns me to him.
He’s wearing a navy suit, his hair messed up to perfection yet again. Wearing his expensive shoes and watch, he looks every bit the multi-millionaire businessman that he is.
One thing I’ve learnt about my man over the last week is that he has two distinct personalities. There’s the carefree, funny Spence I first met who makes me laugh, and then there’s the serious businessman of Spe
ncer Jones. He’s strong, deliberate, and he doesn’t take shit from anybody.
Both men are beautiful, and both men are mine.
He grabs my waist and sits me up onto the counter, spreading my legs around his body. He holds my jaw, angling me the way he wants me, and kisses me deeply as he slides his hands beneath my robe.
“Let’s go away for the weekend.”
“Really?” I smile up at him. “Where to?”
“I don’t know, I’ll surprise you.”
“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” I smile playfully.
He pulls my hips forward so I can feel his erection through his trousers. “How about I surprise you here on the kitchen counter with a bit of hard dicking?”
I giggle. “I am completely dicked-out.”
“There’s no such thing.” He bites into my neck. Goose bumps scatter up my arms.
It’s early on Monday morning, and after spending the most wonderful weekend in the history of all weekends, it’s time for us to separate and go back to work.
“I have to go, angel,” he whispers.
I smile and nod as our eyes search each other’s. I feel so close to him, and I know he feels the same. There’s this tenderness between us. I can feel it in his touch. When he thinks I’m asleep, his hands roam over my body in reverence, and he kisses me softly… continually… and he doesn’t even know I’m awake.
He worships me.
He’s so beautiful.
Spencer runs his finger down my face. I feel like I want to blurt it all out and tell him that, yeah, maybe I think I love him.
But I won’t because it’s too soon.
We’ve been together for all of ten days. Maybe I’m misjudging our closeness for love. I don’t even know what the protocol for this is. When is it okay to acknowledge how you feel? When is it okay to say it out loud?
His big blue eyes hold mine. He lingers, waiting, and I have to wonder… does he feel it, too?
Whatever it is.
“Spence…” I whisper.
“Yeah.” He kisses me softly.
My stomach twists as I try to hold in the words. “I’m going to miss you today,” I breathe out.
