Page 66 of Revival

Spencer turns his attention to the window, leaving our hands clasped in my lap.

I resume my chat with Delaney. We compare our different resorts, discussing food, music, and, at her insistence, men.

The plane levels out once we hit cruising altitude. Spencer abruptly unclips his belt and rushes toward the first-class restroom.

“Um, excuse me,” I brusquely end the conversation and hurry after him.

Spencer’s maneuver proves effective a second time as I slip through the shrinking gap of the accordion-style door to the restroom.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Sliding the door shut behind my back, I squeeze in next to the sink.

Spencer has his back to the door, hand braced on the wall beside the toilet. At the sound of my voice, his chin turns over his shoulder.

“What are you doing here, Cortney?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Is it the flying?”

“No.”

I cross my arms and lean my hip against the sink. “Well, you clearly aren’t peeing.”

“Not like you gave me a chance to get my fly down.”

“Is this it, then?”

He fully faces me and leans against the wall. Though with how little space there is, our toes nearly touch.

“You aren’t really talking,” I continue at his silence.

“We aren’t good at talking.”

“I want to know if this is it.”

Despite the vagueness, he knows exactly what I’m asking. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Is this what I wanted? To have Spencer worship every single inch of my body, wring orgasm after orgasm from me until I’m barely clinging to life, only to sleep curled around one another so that we can wake up and do it all over again?

When I proposed we spend the week together, I never allowed myself to think about what would happen at the end.

“Now look who doesn’t want to answer simple questions.”

“I’m thinking!”

“Maybe I was thinking too, but that didn’t stop you from barging in.”

“Well, excuse me. I’ll just be going.” I whirl around, my skirt flying around my calves as I seek out the lock.

Spencer encircles my waist with his forearm, bringing my back flush against his chest. The rise and fall of his increasing breaths hold me captive.

“This is what you wanted. You gave me a week, then graciously gave me two, but we agreed we’d go our separate ways when this was over.”

“We did,” I confirm.

His forehead touches the back of my skull. “Is that still what you want?”

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