Mr Spencer (Mr. 2)

“I…” I stop talking because I really can’t concentrate when he’s touching me.

He’s so forward.

“Charlotte?” he repeats, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I shake my head in a fluster. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He turns my hand over to gently kiss the inside of my wrist. I feel his touch deep inside my stomach.

“Why not?” He gently licks my wrist and my knees nearly buckle out from underneath me.

Oh, for the love of God!

“My father and brother…” I frown as my voice trails off. How in the hell am I supposed to string two words together when he’s doing that to me?

He steps forward and takes me into his arms. “We’ll dance here then.”

What?

He pulls me close to him, takes one of my hands in his, and he smiles down at me as he begins to sway to the music. “You’re a wonderful dancer, Lady Charlotte.” He smiles mischievously.

I smirk at his sheer audacity. “Does this routine work on every woman you meet?”

He smiles his first genuine smile and I feel the effects of it hit me deep in my stomach. “Please don’t talk about other women. I’m in the courting zone, concentrating on you and only you.” He spins me around, and we both chuckle at his ridiculousness.

He lets me go and holds one hand up, and then he spins me in his arms and pulls me back to his body with force until we come face to face.

I stare up at him, my heart skipping a beat. “I have to go,” I whisper.

“Why?” His intoxicating breath washes over my face.

“My father will be looking for me.”

“How old are you, Lady Charlotte?”

“Too young for you, Mr Spencer.”

He smiles softly. “I have no doubt.” He bends down and softly kisses my lips.

My chest constricts.

He kisses me again, soft and tenderly, hovering his lips over mine. Unable to help it, I smile, and that’s when he kisses me again but this time more urgently, his arms curling around my waist and bringing me to his body.

I’ve never been kissed like this.

His tongue sweeps through my open mouth and our tongues dance together.

For three whole minutes, I drink him in as we kiss like teenagers.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Charlotte,” he gasps as he kisses me again.

I lose control and my hands go to his hair, and then I feel something hard up against my stomach.

Is that…?

I instantly pull out of the kiss and step back, panting for breath.

He reaches for me again, but I step back farther. “Don’t touch me!” I whisper sharply, holding my hand up in defence.