Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Shelby
T he elevator doors slide open, and Spencer leads me down the quiet hallway, his hand on the small of my back, a possessive, protective gesture that excites me more than I would have imagined. I’ve had other men touch me there and didn’t feel anything.
He unlocks his door and ushers me inside. His suite is as elegant as mine, with the city lights twinkling through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the furniture modern and sophisticated. The room is bathed in a warm glow from the discreetly placed lamps. The scent of fresh flowers from a vase on the side table mingles with remnants of his cologne, a smoky, woodsy aroma that seems to envelop me as soon as I step inside. The plush carpet beneath my feet feels luxurious under my heels, and the subtle hum of the air conditioning is comforting background noise in the intimacy of the moment.
The door closes behind us, the click of the latch shutting out the rest of the world. The air between us crackles, and I can feel the depth of his desire even with my back to him. It permeates the room and would be suffocating if I didn’t feel it, too.
“Would you like something to drink?”
I nod, unable to speak, and he gestures toward the small bar areatucked intothe corner of his room. The bar is something I don’t have in mine. It must be the upgraded version. The clink of glasses and the soft pop and fizz of a bottle opening are the only sounds I hear as he pours us each a glass of something. I really don’t care what. I’m not that thirsty. At least, not for a beverage.
“Here you go.”
I turn, and he hands me a glass, his fingers brushing against mine. The brief touch sends a jolt of awareness through me. I take a sip, the fruity flavor swirling on my tongue, and I can’t help but meet his gaze over the rim of the glass. The Prosecco is cool and crisp, a perfect complement to the warmth spreading through my body, making me achy and needy in sensitive areas.
“To whatever this is… because it already feels like more than just one weekend,” he says, raising his glass slightly.
“To finding more than I expected. And being brave enough to want it.” I clink my glass against his. Notruerwords have slipped from my lips. I don’t know where this courageis comingfrom, but I like it.
We stand there, the silence between us thick with tension and possibility. Every nerve ending in my body tingles, and I’m excited for what comes next.
Without breaking eye contact, Spencer takes my glass and, along with his, puts them down on a bedside table. Then he closes the distance between us, resting his hands on my hips, his breath warm on my neck as he breaths me in.
“Then let’s be brave together,” he says, his voice low and intimate in my ear. “No more pretending this is just a story,” he murmurs, his fingers lightly stroking up and down my torso. “Not tonight.”
His touch is light, teasing, but there’s nothing casual in how he looks at me now. His eyes roam over my face in thedarkness of the roomlike he’s memorizing it.
“I’ve wanted you since the moment you stepped into the bar,” he says, his voice a rasp against my skin. “And every second since has only made it worse.” His fingers skim a path across the silk of my dress just beneath my breasts, causing them to perk up, eager for more direct contact. “Tell me you feel this too, Shelby. That I’m not the only one who can’t seem to walk away.”
My breath catches as his thumbs gently swipe across the tips of my nipples.
“I know what this weekend was supposed to be,” he says, his voice deep and rough. “But I haven’t been able to treat it like an interview since the second you looked at me like you saw something worth writing about.”
He slides his warm hands up my sides and pulls me a little closer—not demanding, just enough to feel the shift in the air between us. “I’ve spent years surrounded by people who want something from me,” he continues, softer now. “But you’re the first person who’s made me want to give more.”
I can’t move. I don’t want to.The wayhe’s looking at me—like I’m the only thing in the room that matters.
“Say something,” he whispers. “I need to know if we’re on the same page. Because if you don’t want this, I want to hear it now. And I’ll back off.”
I swallow hard, my heart pounding so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. “I don’t know what this is,” I say quietly, my voice catching. “Or what happens when the weekend ends.” His thumb draws a slow circle against my waist, grounding me. “But I haven’t been pretending either,” I admit. “Not since that first night.” My God, was that only last night? Only twenty-four hours ago? How can I be falling for somebody so quickly?
A smile flickers at the corner of his mouth—soft, almost disbelieving. He exhales, a whoosh of breath like he’s been holding it. “It feels like a whirlwind. I can’t believe we only met yesterday.”
“You scare the hell out of me, Spencer. Because this feels like more than just a weekend fling. And I don’t know what to do with more. But even if you’re only in it for the few days we have, I understand. And I’m okay with that.”
He leans his forehead against mine, and for a moment, neither of us moves. The room is quiet except for our breathing and city sounds beyond the window.
“Let’s not figure it out tonight,”he murmurs. “I want you so much it’s driving me insane.”
Looking up into his eyes, seeing the raw desire, the naked need reflected in their depths, melts the reserve I may have been holding on to. “I want you too, Spencer. I want you so much it terrifies me.”
He cups my face, his thumb skimming the line of my jaw, his eyes searching mine. “You don’t have to be afraid, Shelby. Not with me. I promise.”His hands slide up my back, slow and sure, pulling mefullyagainst him. “I’ve got you,”he says, the words a soft vow against my temple. “Whatever this is, I’m not letting it slip through my fingers.”
He brushes a light kiss against my cheek. Thenonejust below my ear, lingering like he’s tasting the moment. When he pulls back enough to look at me, his eyes are darker, more intense, and still full of that steady warmth. “Come here.” Lacing his fingers with mine, he leads me toward the be before pausing to turn and face me again. His other hand comes to my jaw, tilting my face up.”No more pretending,”he says again, a little rougher now, the edge of need in his voice undeniable. “Not tonight.”
His kisses are slow, deep, andcertain. His lips are soft yet demanding, his tongue tracing the seam of my mouth, seeking entry.
I open for him, a soft moan escaping me as our tongues tangle and our breaths mingle, our bodies pressing tighter together. His is solid, hard in all the right places against my softness. He tastes of Prosecco and the tiramisu we had for dessert.
He turns me, never breaking the kiss until my knees hit the bed.
Kicking off my heels, I sit down, scooting back as he follows, his body covering mine, his weight a delicious pressure that sends heat coursing through me.
His hands roam my body, tracing the curves he seemed so appreciative of earlier, his fingers finding the zipper of my dress, slowly drawing it down. He trails kisses along my neck, his hands pushing the fabric of my dress aside, baring me to his gaze.
The cool air hits my skin, and I shiver, my nipples hardening in anticipation.
Spencer raises his head and looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire, a question in their depths.
I nod, my body aching with need, a level I’ve never experienced. He lowers his head, his mouth finding my nipple through the lace of my bra where he makes circles around the sensitive peak with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth and sucking gently.
I arch my back, pushing more into his mouth, a soft cry of pleasure escaping me.
Spencer’s hands continue their exploration, tracing the swell of my hip, the line of my thigh, before gently shoving my dress down and completely off. He kisses down my stomach, his fingers dancing along the line of my panties, moaning when he discovers dampness. His eyes are locked on mine as he slowly slides the lace fabric down my legs and tosses them aside. He reaches up to slip his hands beneath my back, and my bra quickly follows.
“You are so beautiful.”
His words leave me breathless. I want to see him as naked as I am. But he lowers his head, and his warm breath on my sensitive flesh banishes all thought as he begins following the line of my slit with his tongue before finding my clit and circling it teasingly.
Reaching out, I grab fistfuls of the bed covering, a cry falling from my mouth.
He begins to lap at my entrance.
I pull my knees back to my chest.
Spencer slips his hands under my ass and tugs me closer to his mouth and eats me like a man who didn’t just finish a delicious dinner at an expensive restaurant.
He’s rocking my world, my body spiraling as he sucks and licks and jabs at my core, devouring every drop I can give him. Then his fingers find my entrance, first one, and then a second as he fills and stretches me. The burn is exquisite. He pumps them slowly in and out, his tongue never stopping its wonderous torture. His eyes are closed, his nostrils flared, and he’s humming like it’s the best meal ever.
The pressure begins to build, and I start to pant as pleasure coils tighter and tighter until it explodes, my body convulsing around his fingers as my cries echo throughout the room.
Spencer leisurely kisses his way back up my body, his lips finding mine, his tongue sliding against mine, sharing the taste of my arousal.
My hands fumble with the buttons on his shirt in my haste to feel his skin against mine.
“Let me.”Much faster than me, he deftly undoes the buttons and shrugs out of his shirt before sliding off the bed and reaching for his belt.
But I get to watch as he undresses, my breath sticking in my throat as he’s revealed to me. His body is a work of art, with firm muscles and smooth skin. I spot a tattoo on his right arm and catalogue that to ask him about later.
When he finally joins me on the bed again, I give him a gentle shove, urging him to lift his torso so I can trace the lines of his muscles and the planes of his chest before reaching for his cock, reveling in the soft,hard, heat of it in my hand.
He groans, his hips jerking into my touch, his eyes darkening. “Shelby,”he rumbles. “God, your touch feels so good.”
I enjoy stroking him for a few moments, feeling his weight and length in my palm, enamored with how velvety soft something so solid can be. When a bead of moisture drips from the tip, I guide him into place and moan softly as he gently pushes inside, slowly filling me and stretching me.
He stills, giving me a moment to adjust, closely watching me for any sign to keep going or to stop.
Tipping my head back slightly, I raise my eyes to meet and nod, letting him know I’m ready.
He begins to move using slow, steady thrusts that send waves of pleasure rolling through my body. It doesn’t take long before he’s pumping and rolling his hips more vigorously. In the elegant hotel room, all I can hear is labored breathing and our bodies slapping together. I wrap my legs around him, drawing him deeper, and my hands find his shoulders, my nails digging into his flesh as I quickly climb that trail of bliss again.
Spencer drives into me hard, his back rigid, arms taught, his grunts harsh as we both move toward the point of ecstasy. When I finally tumble over the edge, my body convulses around him, and I cling to his body, holding onto him tight while every nerve ending sizzles as if on fire.
Spencer follows me a moment later, his body tensing, his cock pulsing as he finds his release. Then he collapses on top of me, his breath ragged, his heart pounding against mine.
We lay there for a moment, our bodies still joined, as our hearts and breathing slowly return to normal.
He rolls to the side, pulling me with him, his arms wrapping around me, holding me close.”That was... incredible,”he murmurs, his voice low, full of sex and something much more intimate.
“It was,”I agree, my voice quiet compared to the pounding of my pulse in my ears. “It really was.”
Eventually, Spencer gets up and disappears into the bathroom. He returns with a warm washcloth and cleans me gently, his touch tender. I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. It’s like we’ve been doing this dance forever.
When he joins me back on the bed, I easily move into his arms and his body curves around mine. I feel safe, protected, cherished. I feel loved.
It’s not normal. This is happening far too fast.
Isn’t it?