Mr Spencer(53)

Who am I?

My hands roam over his bare shoulders. I can feel his warm skin on my face as I lean on him. “Is this one of your strategic moves?”

He chuckles and twirls me around. “Yeah, but I didn’t think it through too well.”

“Why?”

“Your dress is biting me.” He winces at the crystals pushing up against his chest. “This is painful.”

I laugh out loud and he spins me around.

“But do you see how brave I am?” he asks.

“It really is very impressive.” I smirk.

“Anything for you, Lady Charlotte.” He leans down and kisses me softly. “What are the words to this song?” He frowns as he listens. “All hands on deck, all in the front all in the back,” he repeats.

He has the ability to switch between intense and playful within seconds. I’ve never met anyone like him before.

He raises a sexy brow. “All part of your strategic planning, no doubt, Prescott.”

“What is?” I laugh.

“All in the front, all in the back.”

“They’re words to a song.” I shake my head.

“Ah, but are they.” He puts his hands on my arse. “Or are you giving me directions to where you want me to touch you?” His tongue takes mine with purpose. “A roadmap, as such. Is this a secret code I needed to crack?”

“A roadmap to where?” I whisper.

“To wherever you want me to take you.” His tongue dances with mine.

This is it.

This is what I want. I don’t want him to go home, I want him to stay here with me and take away the ache.

What are you waiting for? Just do it.

His lips linger over mine, and my arousal is beginning to ache between my legs.

“Spence.” I run my fingers through his hair.

“Yes, angel.” He smiles at me, already knowing what I’m going to say.

“I want you to take me upstairs and I want you to take this dress off me.”

He smiles and holds me close. We stay in each other’s arms for just a moment, and then, without another word, he takes my hand in his and leads me out of the kitchen. My heart begins to race as he pulls me through the apartment and over to the stairs.

“I would carry you up, but I don’t want you to think I’m showing off.”

I laugh. “That’s a relief. I do hate a poser.”

With every step closer to my bedroom, the less air there seems to be in my lungs.

You can do this, you can do this, I chant over and over again in my head.

Spencer falls quieter, as if sensing my nerves. “And what are we changing you into?”

If I could answer him, I would, but I’m too busy having a complete internal freak-out.

He’s so experienced. What if I’m a dud in bed? I probably am, I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.

“Where is your bedroom?” he asks.

“Up at the end of the hall,” I whisper.

Hearing my voice, he turns and frowns, concern on his face. “What’s wrong, angel?” He takes my hands in his.

I shrug, embarrassed, “I’m…”

“You’re what?”

“I’m not. I mean… I don’t.” I shake my head. God, this is all seems so fast. “I mean, I do…”

He smiles softly. “You’re nervous?”

I nod, horrified at my own inexperience.

“Do you want to do this?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“This is only your second time?”

My eyes search his. I want to say first, but I don’t want to scare him away, so I nod again.

Spencer smiles and leans down to kiss me. Its tender, lingering, and gentle, and in that moment, I know he’s going to look after me.

“You do know that I’m going to find who was your first and kill that fucker, right?”

I smile goofily.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve been beating myself up about this,” he says as he turns and pulls me into the room. “It keeps me awake at night.”

“It does?”

“God, yes.” He tuts and turns me towards him, his face softening when our eyes meet. “Let’s just pretend this is your first time, yeah?” he whispers. “For my sake.”

I frown. “Why would you want to pretend that this is my first time?”

“To make me feel better about what I missed out on. Biggest fucking regret of my life.”

My heart swells, and some of my confidence returns. “Spencer—”

“Spence,” he corrects me with a soft kiss.

“Are you going to take this anemone off me, or am I going to die in it?”

He chuckles. “God, yes, this dress is going in the bin.”

“This is a Dolce & Gabbana. I don’t think it’s garbage worthy.”

He grabs me and kisses me roughly, walking me backwards. “Dolce can Gabbana off.”

He turns me away from him, and I close my eyes as the zipper in the back of my dress slowly begins to slide down. It’s laced up with gold ribbon toward my lower back, and I can feel Spencer begin to unlace it. He slowly slides one shoulder off, and then the other, eventually peeling it down over my hips. He stays focused on his task, and all I can do is watch his face through the mirror in front of me.