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“What is?” I laugh.
“All in the front, all in the back.”
“They’re words to a song.” I shake my head.
“Ah, but are they.” He puts his hands on my arse. “Or are you giving me directions to where you want me to touch you?” His tongue takes mine with purpose. “A roadmap, as such. Is this a secret code I needed to crack?”
“A roadmap to where?” I whisper.
“To wherever you want me to take you.” His tongue dances with mine.
This is it.
This is what I want. I don’t want him to go home, I want him to stay here with me and take away the ache.
What are you waiting for? Just do it.
His lips linger over mine, and my arousal is beginning to ache between my legs.
“Spence.” I run my fingers through his hair.
“Yes, angel.” He smiles at me, already knowing what I’m going to say.
“I want you to take me upstairs and I want you to take this dress off me.”
He smiles and holds me close. We stay in each other’s arms for just a moment, and then, without another word, he takes my hand in his and leads me out of the kitchen. My heart begins to race as he pulls me through the apartment and over to the stairs.
“I would carry you up, but I don’t want you to think I’m showing off.”
I laugh. “That’s a relief. I do hate a poser.”
With every step closer to my bedroom, the less air there seems to be in my lungs.
You can do this, you can do this, I chant over and over again in my head.
Spencer falls quieter, as if sensing my nerves.
“And what are we changing you into?”
If I could answer him, I would, but I’m too busy having a complete internal freak-out.
He’s so experienced. What if I’m a dud in bed? I probably am, I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.
“Where is your bedroom?” he asks.
“Up at the end of the hall,” I whisper.
Hearing my voice, he turns and frowns, concern on his face. “What’s wrong, angel?” He takes my hands in his.
I shrug, embarrassed, “I’m…”
“You’re what?”
“I’m not. I mean… I don’t.” I shake my head. God, this is all seems so fast. “I mean, I do…”
He smiles softly. “You’re nervous?”
I nod, horrified at my own inexperience.
