Mr Spencer (Mr. 2)

Spencer didn’t come to bed until very late last night. I was fast asleep by the time he did, and the last time I checked the clock it read 3:00 a.m.

What was he doing downstairs?

Did he call her back? Was he having second thoughts?

My mind is in overdrive but I’m not falling into the insecure trap. Well, I’m trying my best not to, anyway.

I’m not sure about this love thing. It’s like you hand your heart over to someone and hope to God that they don’t break it.

Part of me feels sorry for Sheridan. I can only imagine how she must feel to have lost him. But part of me is terrified that one day I’ll find out for myself. I exhale heavily and stare out of the window to look out over London.

Stop thinking like this! It’s destructive to both of us.

Nobody needs an insecure girlfriend.

“Good morning, angel.”

I turn to see him walking into the kitchen, his CEO attire firmly in place. Today he’s wearing a navy suit, crisp white shirt, and a paisley tie. His golden hair is just washed, and he’s freshly shaven, too. Spencer exudes opulence…way more than I do.

The expensive watch, the shoes, the ridiculous good looks… he’s the whole, delicious package. Lara’s words of warning come back to haunt me. He’s heartbreak in a hot suit.

His big blue eyes meet mine before he kisses me softly. “I missed waking up with you this morning.” He smiles down at me.

“Good morning, Mr Spencer.” I smile and wrap my arms around him. His tongue slowly slides through my open lips and he sucks on me with just the right amount of pressure.

The way he kisses me is just so…

His eyes drop to my toes and then back up to my face. “You look fucking edible today, angel.”

I force a smile. “Thanks.” I’m wearing a tight grey skirt that hangs just below my knees, and a white silk shirt with a matching grey suit jacket. It’s a power suit… the kind I know he likes.

Stop it.

Damn it, I hate this insecurity nonsense. This isn’t who I am at all.

His eyes drop to my feet again and then up over my hips. I feel the heat from his stare burn my skin, and he readjusts himself in his suit pants.

“What time did you come to bed?” I ask.

He licks his lips as his eyes drop to my breasts and he cups one of them, fascinated. “Late.”

My eyes hold his. “Did the phone call go well?”

His lips drop to my neck and he holds my jaw in his hand. He bites me and I feel goose bumps scatter up my spine.

“Yeah,” he murmurs against my skin.

“What did she say?”

He bites me on the base of my neck and his hand drops to my behind as he grinds me onto his hard cock.

“Spencer…” God, the man’s an animal. Is sex all he thinks about?

“Hmm, why are we talking about Sheridan?” He kisses me again. “I only want to talk about you in this fucking edible outfit.”

“Because I want to know what she said.”

He pulls away from me and my body instantly hates it. “She was pissed off and carrying on.”