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Everything is coming together brilliantly. I can’t wait for him to see it.
I pull out my phone and send him a text.
Not until late. After midnight.>
I frown. I hadn’t expected a quick answer, and the message is disappointing.
Spencer sends back a smiling emoji.
I pocket my phone and head back to the bedroom. It’s stuffy in here, so I open his window to let in some air. We’ll need all the ventilation we can get to cover up the paint smell. It doesn’t bother me, but it could make it hard for Spencer to sleep tonight.
When I turn around, I see the bed, and my mind wanders to what Spencer looks like when he’s lying on the plain, black comforter.
The guy has to be well-endowed. I’ve caught myself sneaking a peek at the area between his legs multiple times, but I have no idea what to imagine, except for what I felt pressed against me when we danced that night.
I shiver. Being close to Spencer induced that sexy dream about him, and it’s all coming back. I’m with him, lying on this bed, with him hovering over me as he enters me slowly … I have to spread wide to take all of him.
He leans down to kiss me, and I moan. “Oh, Spencer … you’re stretching me …”
“Take it all, baby. I want to feel you.”
I wouldn’t want to stay like this forever. I’d push him over so I’m on top and ride him like a starved cowgirl.
His hair is long, which would make it easy for me to run my fingers through it. I always like that in a man …
“Excuse me, Miss Rosetto?”
I jump and turn to find one of the young painters, now covered in various splatters, standing in the doorway to Spencer’s bedroom.
“Hi, yeah, what’s up?”
“Did I … interrupt something?”
“No,” I say, feeling a little out of breath. “Is everything okay?”
“They’re finishing up the first coat in the living room, so they sent me to get you to check the den color.”
“Right. Yeah. I’ll be down in just a minute.”
The poor kid looks terrified of me. I wasn’t saying any of that stuff out loud, was I?
I shake my head. It was a daydream, but I’m sure I look like a mess. It happens when you’re having a sex fantasy about your fake boyfriend. I need to stop this. Spencer and I are only doing this because we have a deal. It’s a good thing he’s not here today.
And not just because I don’t know if I could keep my hands to myself if he were.
Chapter Twelve – Spencer
I put my phone back in my jacket pocket on my chair before anyone can yell at me for using it while on set. I would much rather talk to Leila than do any work on this movie. It’s an interesting rom-com with some funny lines, but I’m sick of my costar, Candy.
As I wait to be called for the next scene, I consider risking the director’s wrath and texting with Leila some more. Would it be crazy to ask her to stick around at my house until midnight so I can actually see her today?
I shake away the thought. It would be crazy. The painters will be done long before that, and it’s not fair of me to expect Leila to wait around all day. Plus, she has a dog to take care of. Shiloh would never forgive me if he were stuck inside because Leila was sitting at my house doing nothing.
I’m excited to see how she changes things up. I haven’t wanted to look at any paint samples Leila has tried to show me. I’m confident she’ll do a good job, and it’s not like I’m all that picky. She could paint everything bright yellow, and I wouldn’t care. It will be nice to get rid of those white walls. I guess a part of me always noticed them, but it has gotten worse since Leila pointed out how bright they are. No one else has ever called me out on it, but I have a feeling that once they’re gone, I will get a lot of comments about how terrible they were. Truthfully, I should’ve done this a long time ago, but I’m glad I never hired an interior designer. I like that it’s something that keeps Leila around.
“Carver!” the director calls out, and I roll my eyes. He only calls us by our character names, which is kind of annoying. I don’t think the guy even knows my real name.
