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What is that look? “What’s going on in that mind of yours, Mr Spencer?” I whisper.
“I’m wondering what the hell is going on here.”
I frown.
“You see, I…” His voice trails off, and he places his drink down, stepping towards me to take me in his arms. His lips drop to my neck, and then his tongue comes out and he slowly licks me.
My insides melt and I close my eyes. “You see what?” I ask. “What were you going to say?”
“I’m wondering what’s so different with you. Why does my heart race when you look at me?” He breathes against my skin.
I smile and look up at the ceiling as his mouth slowly caresses my neck.
“I’m wondering why the fuck you make me so nervous, like nobody ever has before.”
He nips me with his teeth, and I flinch.
“I’m wondering how just the sound of your voice over the phone can make my cock so hard that it weeps.”
I whimper as his lips begin to assault my neck with more force. His hands have now dropped to my arse.
“So many mysteries,” I whisper, trying to control my breathing.
“You’re the eighth wonder of the world.” He chuckles, moving his kisses to my shoulder before he trails his tongue across the skin there.
“Why do you lick me like that?” I ask, breathless.
He lifts his eyes to mine and cups my cheeks. “Because I need to taste you.”
My stomach clenches. “When you say things like that… it does things to me.”
“What things?”
“Strange things that make me feel my pulse where I’ve never felt it before.”
With his dark eyes locked on mine, he trails his fingers down my face, down over my breasts, and then lower.
“Here?” he whispers as he gently rubs his fingers over my sex through my dress. “Do you feel your pulse here?”
I nod, my erratic breathing ragged, desperate to suck in precious air.
He leans closer, his mouth at my ear, his breaths dusting my skin. “I want you to feel my pulse here.” He grabs my sex aggressively, and he hisses sharply. My legs nearly buckle.
I pull out of his arms and step back, panting wildly. Fear takes over.
What the hell? This is too much. Too… full on.
I don’t think I can do this.
A frown creases his brows. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you, angel.”
My eyes search his. I shrug weakly, ashamed that he can sense it.
With a shaky hand, I sip my champagne.
He shifts around uncomfortable, turning his attention to the apartment. “This… this is a nice place.”
“I-it is…”
