Mr Spencer(52)

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?

He takes his shirt off and wipes the bench down with it.

His chest is broad and tanned, and his stomach is rippled with muscles. He has a scattering of dark hair across his chest, and then a trail from his navel that disappears into his pants. I’ve never seen a more beautiful man. I’ve never seen any man, but jeez, he’s one hell of a first.

“We have tea-towels for wiping up spillages,” I say casually.

He kisses me. “I needed an excuse to take some clothing off.” He lays me back over the bench. “You thought that was an innocent spill, didn’t you? It was completely strategic.”

Playful Spencer I can handle. He doesn’t scare me. I laugh out loud, and he slides his hand up my stomach.

“Shit!” He pulls his hand away. “That’s it. This fucking dress is coming off. It has teeth.”

I lie on the bench looking up at him. My hands are above my head, and my blonde hair is splayed out. He smiles and points at me. “Ah, I see what’s going on here. Well played, Charlotte. Well played.”

“What?”

“The old sea anemone dress trick.” He smirks. “That’s an oldie, but a goody, Prescott.”

I giggle.

“You wore that dress knowing full well that I would have to take you into the bedroom and take if off you, didn’t you?”

I smile up at him.

He runs his index finger down my neck, between my breasts, and down to my pubic bone.

Our eyes are locked, and the air leaves my lungs in a rush.

“Didn’t you?” he whispers.

This is it, the moment I’ve waited so long for. I know he thinks I’ve done this before, but hopefully I can fudge my way through it. So far, so good.

“Well?” he asks with a raised brow.

This just all seems to be moving so fast. I have no idea at what pace it should be going. Is this normal?

I nod softly. “Yes.”

He pulls me up by the hand. “Luckily for you.” He grabs my hips and pulls me down from the bench. “I am an excellent personal assistant and will happily oblige.”

We fall serious, and he kisses me, his tongue sweeping deeper into my mouth as he holds my face. My sex begins to throb. “Where is your bedroom?” he asks against my lips.

“Up… upstairs,” I whisper. Oh, this feels like it’s going way too fast. He’s just got here. “Can we just…?”

His eyes meet mine and his face softens. “Slow it down?” he whispers as he kisses my lips softly.

I nod. “I’m sorry. I just…”

“Once again, I’m getting ahead of myself. Spencer Jones needs a leash.”

I laugh out loud at him talking in third person. He takes my jaw in his hands and stares into my eyes. “Will you dance with me, Charlotte?”

“Here?”

“Right here.” He takes out his phone and opens Spotify. “What’s your favourite song?”

I smile and think for a moment. “Umm.” I shrug. “I have a playlist on my phone.”

His eyes widen and he feigns surprise. “You do?”

I giggle. “I do.” I pick up my phone and he takes it from me. “What’s the code?”

I smirk and snatch it from him, typing the code in myself. “I’m not giving you the code to my phone.” I scoff.

“But how am I supposed to spy on you if I can’t get into your phone?”

“You’re an idiot.” I giggle. “All Hands on Deck” by Tenashe begins to play.

He snakes his arms around my waist, the sexy beat playing out around us, and he pulls my body closer to his. “That’s better.” He smiles down at me.

I’m dancing in my kitchen with a gorgeous man who has no shirt on.