Page 77 of Trust Again

It turned out Spencer was much better than me at pretending that nothing had happened between us. Whenever I thought he wasn’t watching I’d sneak a look at him. Things had gotten much worse since he’d taken such good care of me. The more I told myself not to want him, the stronger the temptation was. It was like going on a diet: the stricter the rules against eating candy, the more you wanted it.

I could hardly take my eyes off him, could hardly hear anyone else speaking to me. And whenever our eyes met, Spencer smiled slyly, as if he knew exactly what was going on inside me.

It was a long evening.

Finally, Spencer offered to take Scott and me home. On the way, I stopped counting how many times our eyes met in the rearview mirror.

When we stopped at Scott’s, I got out with him and hugged him goodbye. He looked at me a bit too long, then looked over at Spencer, sitting behind the wheel.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Scott said, before hugging me again and bounding up to his apartment.

Shoot. Scott really had a good nose for when you were hiding something. If he’d picked up on what was going on between Spencer and me, I’d have to be much more careful. Things were good the way they were. I didn’t want to change things by sharing it with the world.

Getting back into the car, I felt Spencer’s eyes on me.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Great,” I replied and looked out the window as he turned the corner.

The drive didn’t take longer than one James Morrison song.

The car pulled to a stop, and I didn’t dare look over at Spencer.

“Thanks for the lift,” I mumbled and unbuckled my seatbelt.

Before I could grasp the door handle, Spencer put his hand on my arm. “What’s up?”

All I could do was swallow. “I’m just tired.”

He frowned. “Bullshit,” he whispered and began to stroke my arm. “Tell me what’s going on so I can help.”

I looked down at his hand, unable to speak as long as his gaze was fixed on me so intensely. It was too much. “You could help me by…” My voice faded to a whisper.

Writing about stuff? No problem. But to actually tell him I wanted him? It felt worse than writer’s block.

“Dawn…” was all he said. My name, soft and rough. Then he pulled me close.

Somehow I ended up in his lap; okay, I did bump my leg on the dashboard but it didn’t matter because he was pressing his lips on mine. Finally, I was exactly where I’d wanted to be the whole evening.

I buried my hands in his hair, and his moaning went right through me. His hands wandered over my body. Then he grabbed my hips, his fingers clutching at me to hold me tighter. I gasped. It was like my mind was swept clean. No thoughts were there. All I could do was move with him. Over and over, I rocked against his lap. A wonderful pressure built up inside me.

By now I knew what Spencer liked. His breath hitched when I nibbled his earlobes. He grabbed me tighter when I let my lips wander over his shoulders. When I tugged his hair gently, his kisses became hungrier and his deep moans spurred me on, faster and harder.

Our kisses were so fevered that I actually forgot to breathe. I leaned my forehead against his temple and gasped for air. Then, carefully I placed my fingers on his swollen lips. His breathing was as heavy as mine.

“You’re driving me crazy,” I whispered.

He bit my finger. “It’s a good thing I’m into crazy women.”

I smiled. “Would you like to…”

His penis was vibrating.

Then a shrill ring came from the same place.

Confused, I looked down. The illuminated screen of Spencer’s cell phone was shining through his pants.

Before I knew it, I was on the passenger seat again, this time bumping my head on the roof of the car. Spencer cursed and twisted to get at the phone in his pocket.

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