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Charlotte glances up at me and smiles softly. “Yeah, I think it’s just too soon.” She doesn’t need to elaborate. We both know she’s referring to Lincoln and Audrey seeing each other.
“Mind if I join you?” I ask, setting my plate and drink on the counter.
“Sure.”
I was going to anyway, and we both know it. This night just got a whole lot more interesting.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Charlotte
I should have informed him I was leaving. I should have left with my sister, but something told me to stay. Part of me hoped that Spencer might stop and say hello. I haven’t seen him this week. I thought that I would have, and I refuse to think about why I wanted to see him. I tell myself it’s just what I expected. Not what I wanted.
However, here I am, telling him he can keep me company when I know it’s a bad idea. I sip my beer, not really tasting it, as Spencer takes the stool next to mine.
“Are you eating?” he asks.
“I wasn’t going to.”
He slides his plate closer to me. “Help me out, Charlie.” He nods toward his plate. “We both know the wings here are like crack and don’t get me started on the ooey-gooeyness of the cheese sticks.”
I can’t help it. I smile. “Is that your professional opinion, Mr. CEO?” There is teasing in my tone, and it’s friendly, not at all filled with the venom our barbs usually hold.
“It is if that’s what it takes for you to eat with me.”
I look down at the plate. The food does look delicious, and my sister and I were planning on eating. When Audrey left, I decided I was going to finish my drink and head home, but now, I might stay a little longer than planned. I’d blame the alcohol, but this is my first, and it’s not even half empty.
“Let me help.” I watch as Spencer picks up a cheese stick, dips it into the pizza sauce, and holds it up for me. “Open for me, Charlie.”
My mouth opens without my consent, and he places the cheesy goodness in my mouth. I take a bite and pull back. I take my time chewing as I watch him take the rest of the cheese stick and pop it into his mouth.
Why is that hot? Not just him feeding me, telling me to open for him, but the fact that we’re sharing a meal, and he’s eating food I’ve already eaten from. It’s intimate and not us at all. That doesn’t stop me from parting my lips when he repeats the process, and I again take another delicious bite.
My eyes lock with his as I chew, and the intensity of his stare has heat pooling between my thighs. “Good girl,” he says huskily.
I choke as I swallow and reach for my glass. I take a hefty drink as Spencer places his hand on the center of my back and rubs soothing circles. His touch feels like fire even through my shirt, and everyone knows you are supposed to stay away from fire, but I find myself leaning into him anyway.
“You all right?” he asks. He’s close. Too close.
“I’m good.” Part of me wants to take another bite, so he’ll tell me what a good girl I am, but I tamp that down. This is Spencer, my rival, the guy who made our entire college careers a competition. I don’t need his praise, even though those two words affected me more than I care to admit. So much so these panties are ruined.
“I need to run to the restroom.” I stand on shaking legs and move through the small crowd to the ladies’ room. As soon as I’m inside, I can think clearly. With my hands braced on the edge of the sink, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are bright, my cheeks flushed, and I can still feel his hand on my back.
“He’s just a man,” I mutter as I step away from the sink and into the stall. I didn’t need to use the bathroom, but I did need to clean up. As predicted, my panties are a mess, and there is no cleaning up. Not here. With few options, I slip off my thong, wrap it tightly in some toilet paper, and shove them into my small handbag. It’s not ideal to be in this skirt without panties, but driving home in wet panties isn’t ideal either.
I’m going straight home. I can’t be trusted to be alone with this man right now. I need some distance to get myself together. He’s going to be my boss.
My. Boss.
Squaring my shoulders, I mentally prepare myself to walk out of this bathroom and right out the door. My drink is already paid for, and I have no reason to stick around. Just because I told Spencer he could sit in the empty seat next to me doesn’t mean I have to stick around to keep him company.
I’m definitely not doing that. I’m going home to get lost in a book where the hero tells the heroine she’s a good girl, and I will not under any circumstance remember the sound of Spencer’s voice as I read those words.
Nope. Not ever.
Exhaling a deep breath, I pull open the door only to be greeted with warm chocolate eyes. “Spencer.” I breathe his name.
“You were gone a while,” he says. He’s standing casually against the opposite wall with his hands shoved deep in his pockets and one leg bent, resting on the wall.
