Chapter 21
The pillow beside me is cold, but there's a piece of paper folded on top of it.
Stretching like a cat, I blink sleep from my eyes and reach for the note.
My mind does something complicated when I see Spence's angular handwriting.
Good morning, beautiful. You looked too peaceful to wake. I'm in the gym burning off some energy before I do something reckless like climb back in that bed and keep you there all day. (Tempting, but you deserve breakfast first.) Be back soon with food. Stay put. - S
A ridiculous smile spreads across my face as I clutch the note to my chest like I'm sixteen again.
Except I never got notes like this at sixteen. Never had anyone look at me the way Spence does—like I'm simultaneously precious and edible.
The bed is enormous without him in it, the sheets cool where his body was. I stretch again, feeling delicious where he fingered me last night.
Covering my face, I groan. That happened.
I can’t wait for more.
My phone shows 8:47 AM—later than I usually sleep, but considering we were up past midnight eating and talking, it makes sense.
I slide out of bed, my tank top twisted around my waist, my flannel pants riding low on my hips. The heated floors are warm under my bare feet as I pad to the enormous bathroom.
The room is gorgeous—all natural stone and sleek fixtures, the kind of bathroom you see in design magazines.
The Christmas decorations are burgundy and gold, with crystal accents that look like ice. Lush garland drapes the mirror, coloring the room with it’s fresh green scent.
Wow. I still can’t believe the Christmas present I got this year.
Spencer Saint McCallister.
My grin is mischievous as I turn on the massive rainfall shower, letting the water heat while I brush my teeth.
When steam starts to fill the space, I strip out of my pajamas and step under the spray.
Oh my god. Heaven.
The water pressure is perfect, the temperature is exactly right. I tip my head back, letting it soak my hair, wash away the last remnants of sleep.
My mind wanders as I lather shampoo through my hair. What will happen when my brother does arrive?
Ugh.
I'm halfway through washing my hair with some over-the-top luxury shampoo when I hear footsteps.
My heart leaps into my throat. “Spence?”
“It's me.” His voice is rough, deeper than usual. Hot enough to make my toes curl. “I brought you breakfast.”
I peek around wipe the fog from the shower door, and my breath catches.
He's leaning against the doorframe, wearing gray athletic pants that sit low on his hips and nothing else.
His chest is bare, muscles still pumped from his workout, a light sheen of sweat making his skin gleam.
My muscles contract on a shiver. I want him so badly it hurts.
His hair is damp at the temples, those hazel eyes dark and hungry as they track over what he can see of me behind the glass.
“I said stay in bed,” he says, but there's no heat in it. Just amusement and something that looks a lot like appreciation.
“I needed to shower.” My voice comes out breathier than I intend. “You were gone when I woke up.”
“I know. I'm sorry about that.” He pushes off the doorframe, taking a step closer. “But if I'd stayed in that bed with you then you’d never have gotten breakfast.”
I'm hot and shaky from the way his eyes keep dropping to where the water is sluicing down my body behind the glass.
We’re getting close. This is happening.
“So you went to the gym, too?”
“Ran five miles on the treadmill. Did two hundred push-ups. Lifted until my arms shook.” He takes another step closer. “Didn't help.”
My pulse kicks into overdrive. “No?
“Not even a little.” He's right at the shower door now, one hand pressed flat against the glass. “Because all I could think about was you. In my bed. Wearing those pajamas that should be innocent but drive me out of my mind.”
I swallow hard, hyperaware that I'm completely naked with only a sheet of glass between us. “They're just flannel pants.”
“They're sexy.” His eyes meet mine through the steam. “How's the water?”
“Perfect.”
“Good.” His hand drops from the glass, and for a second I think he's going to leave. Instead, he reaches for the hem of his athletic pants. “Mind if I join you?”
My heart stops. This is what I've wanted. “Okay.”
His eyes are intense, searching my face. “Unless you're not ready. We can keep waiting. I can keep waiting.”
The vulnerability in that last statement breaks something open in my chest. This strong, controlled man giving me all the power, all the choice.
I open the shower door. “Get in here.”
His joggers hit the floor in one move.
Oh my god. Whoa. He's ripped and huge.
Seeing him through his briefs was nothing like this. I try not to stare, but it's impossible to ignore the way that thick rod sticks out from his hips.
He's magnificent everywhere.
Excitement races all over me, jumping around like loose electricity.
He steps into the shower, and suddenly the massive space feels tiny. Spencer’s presence fills every inch, his body radiating heat that has nothing to do with the water.
“Hi,” he says softly, backing me gently against the tile wall.
“Hi.” My hands rest on his chest, loving the feel of his muscles as his heart thumps below my palms.
The former SEAL is so big and vital. The opposite of me in every way.
He cups my face with his callused hand, tilting it up to his. “We don't have to do anything you're not ready for.”
“I know.”
“I just wanted to be close to you.” His thumb strokes my cheekbone. “Wanted to touch you. See you. All of you.”
“Same here. I like the view.” I rise on my toes, pressing my lips to his. “Now touch me.”
He groans into my mouth, his hands sliding down my sides, learning my shape as they slip around to my butt. The kiss starts tender but quickly turns desperate. gliding tongues and bumping teeth, ragged breathing, and barely restrained need.
The water cascades over us both as his hands explore, mapping every curve, every dip. When his fingers skim the underside of my breast, I gasp against his mouth.
“So soft,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss to trail his lips down my neck. “You're a dream come true, Liberty.”
I thought I would be self-conscious, but not with him.
Those large, warm hands continue their journey, across my stomach, gripping my hips again and pulling me flush against him. The feel of skin on skin makes me ache and shiver.
Spence is hard and ready, pressed against my belly.
His voice is extra husky. “Are you sure you're okay?”
“Maybe a little nervous,” I confess.
“I've got you. Let me hold you.” He lifts me easily, a hand scooping below my thigh and my legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.
“Just let me hold you like this. Just for a minute.”
All my nerves evaporate being in his arms, even though I'm open to him, my legs wide around him. I feel protected. Cocooned in his strength.
“There's my girl,” he murmurs. “That's it. Let me show you what it's like to be safe.”
We stay like that, the water streaming over us, my head resting against his neck as we breathe each other in. It's intimate in a way that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with connection.
“I want you,” I whisper. “So much it scares me.”
“I know, baby. It's a lot.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “Letting someone close can be hard.”
I pull back so I can see his eyes. “You're incredible. I do feel safe. It feels like a lot, but at the same time it feels right.”
“There's no rush, Liberty.”
Only there is. “Our bubble of isolation will be over in two days. What if I don't want to wait anymore?”
His laugh is strained. “Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t have to happen while we are here. When you’re ready, the time will be right.”
“Put me down,” I order, the idea taking root so fast I can barely contain it.
His brow furrows as he carefully lets me down. “You okay?”
“More than okay.” I wiggle in his grip. “But I want to do something for you.”
Confusion flickers across his face as he makes sure I'm steady.
“You've been so patient,” I say, trailing my fingers down his chest, over the ridges of his abs. “So careful with me. Taking care of me.”
His breathing gets rougher as my hand moves lower. “Sweetheart—”
“Let me take care of you this time.” I sink to my knees on the shower floor, the warm water cascading over both of us.
“Jesus.” His hand shoots out to brace against the wall, his whole body going rigid as I stroke his girthy length.
“You don't have to,” he murmurs.
“I want to.” I look up at him through the spray, my pulse zooming with nerves and excitement. “Show me what you like?”
For a long moment, he just stares down at me, his muscles clenched so tight they're jumping. Then his free hand slides into my wet hair, gentle but possessive.
“You're going to unravel me,” he rasps.
“That's the plan.”
His laugh is strained, edged with disbelief.
“Come on, tell me what you want.”
He makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl, his fingers tightening in my hair. “Everything.”
I wrap my hand around him more tightly, and he hisses through his teeth, his hips surging forward involuntarily.
“So sexy,” I murmur, exploring him with curious touches, learning what makes his breath catch, what makes his grip in my hair tighten.
I lean forward, pressing a kiss to his hip, then another lower, testing his reaction. His whole body shudders.
“Liberty.” My name comes out strangled. “Really, you don't have to…”
I take him in my mouth, and whatever he was about to say dissolves into a curse. There’s no way I can get past halfway, but the sound he’s making tells me that it’s probably okay.
His hand flexes, not pulling my hair, just holding on. “God, yes. Just like that. Fuck me. Your mouth is divine.”
The praise sends heat rushing through me.
I'm clumsy at first, uncertain, but his reactions guide me. The way his breathing changes, the rough sounds he makes, the way his thighs tense under my free hand, tell me what he likes.
“So good,” he rasps. “That mouth is lush—fuck.”
I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, and he finds a rhythm, clenching his thighs, swaying against me.