Vain (The Seven Deadly 1)

“Where?” he asked.

“Uganda.”

He sank back a bit. “I wish I had any idea if that was dangerous or not.”

“Me too,” I stoically added.

“When,” he said, before clearing his throat, “do you leave?”

“Next week.”

“Holy shit, Sophie.”

“I know,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut. I opened them and turned toward him.

“Make this week for me, Spence. Make it so damn fun it’ll hold me over for six months.”

“Of course, Sophie.”

The club he’d taken me to was new, so new I’d never been there and that was saying something, but it was packed, sardines packed. I could tell even though we hadn’t even stepped a foot inside. Spencer’s Aston Martin pulled up to the curb outside the door and I could practically feel the stares of the club patrons in line, heavy and full of wonder. The impossibly sexy Spencer casually stepped from his car and handed the keys to the valet. A second valet attempted to open the door for me but Spencer waved him off and came to my side, swinging my door open softly and reaching in for my hand. I heard the cottony sighs of the girls in queue when they saw Spencer and it made me wonder why I couldn’t get into him the way he was into me.

My hand gripped his as he culled me from my seat. My hair blew away from my face and I got a good glimpse of the glinted eyes of admirers for almost half a block. My heel hit pavement and the collective groans from the men in line at the sight of my leg made Spencer wink discretely. He lifted me and closed my door behind me. In the seconds it took to turn, a secret thrill blew through my chest at the envy emanating from their faces, but our expressions would have never conveyed such. No, we were trained from birth to assert disinterest. We were the ultimate snobs and realizing this, that secret thrill quickly dissipated into shame. What is wrong with me?

The doorman opened the door for us and ushered us inside and the people in line didn’t question the move, assuming we were more important than they were and that made me think further into why society accepted such nonsense, but there I was, letting it happen anyway. I was turning into a massive hypocrite and all I wanted was to go back to how I was.

“Can we make out a little, Spencer, and not have it turn into anything?” I asked him, knowing that was such a bitch move but needing a little of my old life to come back in order for me to feel sane again.

“Are you kidding, Sophie Price? I thought you’d never ask.”

“That was diplomatic.”

“I wasn’t being tactful. When Sophie Price asks you for a kiss, you perform. Now, if you need any other, uh, performing, I’d be happy to oblige as well.”

This stopped my heart. “Maybe making out is a horrible idea.”

“No, no, forget everything I just said.” He hurriedly led us to our private table and whipped me toward him. “Dance with me.”

I threw my small bag in the booth in answer, knowing security in VIP would cover it since Spence handed the guy a hundred and I let him pull me toward the floor. I took the lead and wound my way through the crowd with Spencer just behind me and found a spot two people could fit comfortably. Darkness surrounded us other than the dancing lights that touched the top of the crowd but bounced off just as quickly.

The first song was slow and sexy. Spencer laid his hands on me and I let him. They perused my body in appreciation as I used him. We swayed with the erotic tempo and his mouth found mine, answering my earlier question. The warm feel of his tongue soothed away any raw feeling of moral contradiction that had taken residence so obnoxiously in my heart. I groaned in response and his arms found my rib cage, encircling me tightly before giving me a slight squeeze and lifting me slightly from the floor.

I kissed Spencer like my life depended on it. I hoped every exhale into his mouth shed a little of my newly found struggles.

“Hold me tighter,” I whispered against his teeth. He clutched me closer, yet not tight enough. “More,” I demanded.

Spencer drew me firmer against him and I felt every ridge of his body. “Is that close enough?” he laughed into my throat.

“Perfect,” I told him. I didn’t feel as alone anymore.

Spencer kissed me again but softer, as if he knew I needed that. He read my body well, giving when I drew back, drawing back when I gave. All I could think was he was going to make some girl very happy one day. He ran his hands through my long curls, gripping my waist just above the hip before enfolding me against him once again.

And just as suddenly, the very heated kiss turned lighter, tapering off into a desperate embrace. I felt it in that moment as did he. It was glaringly obvious to us standing there in the middle of the crowded dance floor. I needed to be needed by him and he needed to be needed by me. We clung to one another, not sure exactly what it was we required from one another but acknowledging it all the same.

When the song ended and a more upbeat tune replaced it, Spencer pulled away.

“Let’s just get the fuck out of here,” he told me.

We went back to my house but parked his car in the employee lot just in case my father was on the lookout, though I doubt he was. My room had been serviced since I’d left it last so I tossed the covers back and tumbled inside, whipping my clothes off under the covers. Spencer tossed his jeans on the chair in the corner along with his shirt, tucking himself with me in only his boxers.