Page 106 of Selfie

God, no. Please no.I blow out a deep breath and reluctantly release her hips. “Yeah, we can stop.”

I unbutton my jacket, shrug out of the sleeves, and sling it around her shoulders.

She clutches the lapels, closing the jacket around her body. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Bad timing on my part. I misread how to help.” I’ve been craving Spencer’s body since the night I met her, but I didn’t picture it like this. Angry red slashes across her skin, tearstained makeup, the look of despair on her pretty face. Fuck.

Spencer’s gaze falls down once more. She refuses to look at me. “I don’t think you can help me. Just like I don’t think I can help you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Seeing Casey is drumming up a lot and I think…I need some space. I want to work on myself for a while. And maybe you should work on yourself too.” She cocks her head, eyes still glued to the tile floor. “We’re both broken, Nathan.”

“I’m aware.” I want to hold her, but her body language is telling me no. “But it might feel better to be broken together.”

She wets her lips and rubs them together. “Or we’ll just hurt each other until we’re beyond repair.”

I hook my finger under her chin, lifting her face until she meets my eyes. “Am I hurting you?”

She nods. “I know I’m never going to be the fantasy you’ve built up in your head. I can flirt and tease, but this? Passionate moments in the elevator, ripping off my clothes, saying these things that should make me wet, but instead they scare me.”

My body stiffens. Her words hit me like a slap across the jaw. “I’m scaring you?”

“Because you want what I’m not. I have a very broken relationship with sex and my body. I ruined your night because I’m so stuck in my head. I just… I don’t think it’s going to change anytime soon. Especially not while Casey’s here.”

Reading between the lines, it kind of sounds like Spencer doesn’t hate Casey. It sounds like there’s still feelings there. Maybe I’m blind. All I could see was what I wanted, but maybe I’m not what she wants.

As a last-ditch effort, I grab her hand. I’ve been trying to do better and choose honesty when it’s so much easier to be cold and callous. “Spencer, I’m at a fork in the road and the one that leads to you is bumpy, rocky, and flat-out exhausting, but it’s the one I want. You don’t need to be a porn star to captivate me. You already have.” I run my finger across her bottom lip. “This sassy mouth of yours owns me.”

“I wasn’t sassy tonight.”

“I know. And I missed you.” Dropping my hand, I scrunch my nose at her. I’d put on a clown suit and perform as a one-man band if I could just get her to smile.

Her lips remain in a flat line. “I think…I just need to be your assistant. And your friend.”

My heart sinks with a thud to the bottom of my chest. “That’s really all you want?”

She nods with heavy eyes and a frown that doesn’t match her words.

Of all the things I hoped for tonight, I never saw rejection coming. Then again, she has a way of blinding me—hyperfocusing on what I want. I didn’t realize she was something I couldn’t have.

“Okay. Have it your way.”

“Are you mad?”

“No,” I lie. “Why don’t you and Charlie enjoy the penthouse tonight on your own? I have my dad’s bachelor’s party next week in L.A. I’ll head out early tomorrow, get some work done while I’m getting his party ready. I’ll be gone for a week, and when I’m back, we’ll start fresh. Just boss and assistant. Friends. Sound good?”

“We live in Vegas. Isn’t this kind of the hub for strippers and bachelor parties?”

“Believe it or not, there are strippers in L.A. too.” I chuckle humorlessly as I push a button so the elevator resumes its ascent to the penthouse suite. The ride is mostly silent, a new awkward tension between us. But once the bell dings, she hesitates to step off.

“Two-nine-four-three is the door code. I’ll go back downstairs and send Charlie up with your purse and such. Just call room service to order dinner, drinks, whatever you like. They’ll bill me.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

When she still doesn’t move, I ask, “Is something wrong?”

“Can I keep this for now?” She tugs on the lapels of my jacket.

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