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“Will you come home with me?” One hand still cupped her while the other finger-combed her tousled hair. “To sleep?”
Even half-TKO’d from half a dozen orgasms, she knew when something big was happening. Well, other than the thick hard-on that had only grown during his ministrations. “I thought you wanted to split me open again.”
“That is a tempting proposition.” His mouth softened, stage one of Spencer almost smiling. “But it’s late. And we both need to get some rest. I keep wearing you out.”
“No arguments there.” She wet her parched lips. “In your bed? Together? All night?”
“Yes.” He flashed her a real smile. “All five hours that are left of it before we have to head to work.”
“Well, you don’t have to go in that early,” she said, speaking louder to drown out the thundering of her heart. “Big boss man can do what he wants.”
“I have a lot to do.” He skimmed his thumb over her lower lip and her head spun as she picked up her own scent. “I’m leaving early next week to head out to Virginia.”
“For how long?” She hated the vulnerability she heard in her voice. Dammit, so what if he took a short trip? They weren’t together. Not in any true, lasting sense.
“A week probably. This time. Kelly…” She waited as he trailed off, then he shook his head and slid her dress down her thighs. “Let’s go.”
He remained quiet throughout the drive to his place. The air between them was rife with things unsaid, but she knew pressing him to tell her was next to useless. Even when he pulled her against him when they were naked in his bed, he didn’t say anything beyond a terse “Good night.” After setting the alarm for five as she’d requested, he turned off the light.
Somehow she slept. She’d thought she would lay in the dark and fret, something she’d become exceptionally good at recently. But the moment his arm came around her waist, she closed her eyes and drifted off.
She dreamed, and that in itself was unusual. She rarely dreamed or she didn’t often remember the dreams if she did. This one was so vivid, so heartbreakingly realistic that her eyes were wet when she woke.
Alone. Again.
A glance at the clock showed her it was only three thirty. Waking before her alarm was another tendency of hers. She hated waking to music, but waking to silence was ten times worse. She rarely woke with a man, and she hadn’t this time either.
The shower was silent, so maybe he’d gone for a run. But in the middle of the night? She wouldn’t put it past him. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d said he never slept. If he kept on the way he had been, he’d crash and burn in no time.
“Not your problem,” she said under her breath as she turned off the alarm and got out of bed.
Taking a shower made the most sense but she didn’t have fresh clothes to wear. She indulged herself by pulling on the T-shirt she found stacked at the top of his laundry basket. It smelled faintly of his deodorant and his soap. Just his alpine scent had her nipples rising as the cotton slid over her head and down her body. She’d bet he’d worn the shirt a handful of times.
Like his smiles, his casual wear didn’t get a lot of use.
She found him in his office. He’d pulled on black pajama pants and her heartbeat spiked at the sight of his bare, muscled back. A gooseneck lamp shot a triangle of light over the paper in front of him but his head was turned toward the window facing the hanging feeder where birds were beginning to sing.
A bird-feeder? Spencer? She glanced from the little hanging tube illuminated by the motion sensor above it back to him. His chin rested on his hand and his lashes made a shadow over his cheek.
Wonder of all wonders, Superman’s apprentice had fallen asleep.
Kelly rubbed her palm over the ache in her chest. She couldn’t decide if she was annoyed he wouldn’t take care of himself or hurt that he’d rather doze at his desk than by her side. Gusting out a sigh, she marched forward and nudged his shoulder. When that didn’t stir him, she nudged a little harder.
His forearm hit the desk an instant before his gaze latched onto hers. His eyes were dusky with fatigue, his mouth soft and irresistible.
She had to touch. To claim in some paltry way. She scooped a hand through his hair. The loose blond waves, still damp from his shower, trickled through her fingers.
“You have girl hair,” she murmured, and he let out a choked laugh as he shifted closer. “It’s so fine and silky, not the least bit coarse.”
To her utter shock, he rested his head between her breasts, his breath coming fast as his hands slid up the backs of her thighs. “Why aren’t you yelling at me for leaving you alone in bed when I said I’d stay?”
She bit her lip but the words tumbled out just the same. “Because I know you can’t keep still. It’s not because of me,” she said, hoping to God it was true.
“Do you really believe that?” he asked quietly.
Closing her eyes didn’t block out the feeling of his lips capturing her nipple through his shirt. His teeth scraped gently while his fingers traced the swell of her ass. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was learning her body as dispassionately as a sculptor, examining hollows, exploring curves.
“I had a dream,” she whispered.
