Vain (The Seven Deadly, #1)(11)

“Ah, well, I might have a few things in mind to pass the time,” he flirted. “I was going to meet Brent for lunch, but I can reschedule if you don’t feel like it.”

I definitely didn’t feel like it. Anyone else and I would have agreed.

“No, Spencer. We’ll be too busy to lunch with Brent,” I teased.

Spencer’s home was modern in architecture but equally palatial to my parents’. The entire home seemed to consist of nothing but windows and never-ending levels. I almost felt sorry for his staff, almost.

We parked in his space and he killed the engine. He leaned over and placed his hand high on my thigh. A rush trilled through me at how hot his hand was. “Good news. My parents left this morning for Africa on holiday.”

I rolled my eyes. “How cliché.”

“Tell me about it.”

He got out of the car and came over to my side, opening the door for me. He kissed me suddenly and my stomach dropped in hesitation for a moment like it always does but as always, I worked through it and put up my barrier. The same barrier that allowed me to what I did with all the boys.

He broke the kiss and grabbed my hand then retrieved my bag. “Who goes to Africa anymore?” I asked him as we ascended the steep and sharply staired walkway.

“My parents?”

We both laughed.

“I gave the staff the day off today,” he mentioned absently when we reached the top, dropping my hand and bag to fish his keys from his pocket.

When the door opened he threw my bag over the threshold. He kissed me on the doorstep and we went toppling toward the white plastered exterior of his doorway. We hit the wall hard and my head reverberated slightly from the force. Ow. “Sorry,” he murmured, but continued to kiss me. I worked through the pain and kissed him fiercely in return.

He wrapped one big arm around my waist and lifted me from my feet, continually kissing me. He walked us into the foyer and slammed the door shut with his foot. He began unbuttoning my shirt and tugging it out of my skirt, never breaking contact. He tossed it behind me. My arms felt heavy and my heart felt a mess. It’s not working! Why isn’t this working?

I doubled my efforts and he took this as invitation to remove my skirt, undoing my side zipper slowly. “Oh, God, Sophie,” he exclaimed, making me want to vomit. “You taste incredible.”

I ignored him and the feeling and kissed him harder. My skirt fell to my ankles and I stepped from it as we made our way to his parents’ sofa. He stopped suddenly and held me at arm’s length.

“Jesus,” he hissed, sucking in a breath. His gaze raked my body and stifled a shudder. I stood in front of him, in full lingerie with garters and ankle-strapped heels. He approached me deliberately, his hands running through my hair, then down my shoulders and back before palming my ass. “You’re more beautiful than I could’ve imagined, Price.”

“Thank you,” I said, wishing I could just run.

Work through it, Sophie. You’re just a little off your game.

He kissed languidly up my neck to my chin and across my jaw line. “You smell like,” he inhaled, “cherry bark and almonds.”

“It’s my shampoo.”

“I love it,” he told me.

He laid me on the leather sofa nearest the fireplace and the morning sun was streaming in at seemingly impossible angles. It was beautiful. Too beautiful. I felt ill at all it was revealing to me. “So much light,” I whispered, not realizing I’d said it out loud.

“We can move to my bedroom,” he said. “It’s darker in there.”

“Please,” I said, needing to remove myself from exposure. I felt desperate.

He picked me up, tucking one arm under my knees and the other around my back. He brought me back to his room and laid me on his dark sheets. The room had shutters and dark curtains that kept out every inch of light.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much,” I answered.

“Now, where were we?”

He crawled over me and kissed me feverishly, his hands roaming my body. He lay on top of me and cupped his hand around my knee, bringing it around his waist.

That was when I broke. I don’t know why I did it, what I was thinking, why my usually stalwart barrier was so weak, but silent tears began to cascade down my face and Spencer pulled away.

“Sophie? Are you crying?”

“No,” I insisted, swiping at my face in the dark, hoping he couldn’t see me. How humiliating.

I’d never cried in front of anyone. Ever.

“Oh, Soph,” he soothed. “You are.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, pushing at his shoulders to flee.

“Wait,” he said, pulling me back to his embrace. “Stay with me for a second.” He laid back and tucked me into his side, smoothing my hair behind my ear. “We don’t have to do this, Soph.” I waited for it, but he didn’t retract his words. Instead, he continued. “You forget I’ve known you since we were small.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the image of a simpler time when Spencer and I used to giggle and play in the gardens at my home. “You’re thinking about our games.”

I nodded against his chest. “I’m still sorry,” I grated out again.

“You know, I’m going to confess something to you,” he said, ignoring me, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “I’ve wanted you since I was old enough to discover I could want someone.” My body tensed beside his, but he just held tighter. “Shh, stop. Listen to me.