"I see. Well, normally, that type of activity happens in bed. Doesn’t it?"
Spencer pats his empty side of the bed and then, in one quick movement, flies under the covers, the bottom half of his body disappearing. I'm left with a view of his gorgeous chest as he tucks the sheet tightly around his waist.
I run a hand through my hair to stop it from shaking. "Have you done it in this bed a lot?" He opens his mouth to answer, but I jump back into the conversation. "Don't answer that. I'm a nervous moron." I attempt to laugh off my stupidity, but it sounds more like the Joker on acid.
"How long has it been?"
There's only one thing he could be asking about. I do some quick math in my head and carry a one… "A while."
"It's been a tiring day. I'm not going anywhere, so there’s no need to rush anything with you. Just come here and get some sleep."
Disappointment washes over me, and I forcibly bite my bottom lip to keep it from sticking out. "Okay." I lift the covers back and climb into the empty side, trying to play it cool.
His bed makes the space between our two bodies feel vast and barren. I’m nervous about the whole sex thing, but I was looking forward to it, too. "Could we at least cuddle?"
I wait for Spencer to laugh at my ridiculous request, but he doesn’t. A smile tugs at his lips, crinkling the skin around his eyes. The covers get pulled taunt, and the bed jiggles as he shimmies his body closer to mine.
“Joslin, I will cuddle you all night long, but let’s not call it that. We’ll think of something cooler…manlier.” One of Spencer's arms slides beneath my neck, and the other wraps around my middle from above.
"Good night." He places a small kiss in the place where my neck meets my shoulder and my body shudders.
Casually, I push back into his body. With a deep breath, I gather up all my courage into a little ball in the middle my belly and use it to ask for what I want. "I could go for another one of those."
"Yeah?" Spencer asks but doesn't wait for a reply before he kisses me twice more in the same area. His tongue swirls up my neck and I shiver.
I slide my body back again, this time making full contact. Something pokes me in the middle of my back and I smile. Maybe Spencer is into this more than he let on.
His hand lowers and slips beneath the fabric of my long T-shirt. I tense, waiting to figure out his next move, but Spencer’s hand doesn’t advance. He rubs circles on my upper thigh, never moving higher, even as my insides scream for him to make a move.
Well, more of a move.
With courage and a renewed sense of confidence, I shimmy my lower half against him.
“Joslin, we can wait.” Spencer places another kiss on my neck, his hand moving higher as he asks.
I love hearing him say he has plans to be around longer, but it doesn’t curb my appetite. If anything, the no-pressure approach makes me want him more.
His fingers slip beneath the thin material of my shorts. My thighs tighten with nerves, and my legs clamp together. It's not that I don’t want to do this—I do—but what if I’ve forgotten how? Thatcher and I haven't dated in quite a while. Just as the worry builds to almost incapacitating me, Spencer bites my earlobe and pulls. It's enough pain and pleasure to flip me back into our moment.
The tension in my legs evaporates, and when I moan into the pillow, Spencer seizes the opportunity, slipping his hand between my legs. "You sure about this?"
"Definitely," taking a page from his book, I squeeze my hand between our bodies and palm his dick. Through the material of his boxers, his erection is hard but moves smoothly under my fingers as I stroke him through the thin fabric.
My concentration fades after Spencer slides two fingers inside of me. My hand stills, squeezing twice when the bottom of his palm makes contact with my clit. He doesn't wait for my approval, and sets a quick and punishing pace that has me withering on the bed.
His fingers twist and turn. It doesn't take long until the pressure builds to unbearable points. The tingles start in my legs as I release his dick. I reach up to grab the back of his head and pull on his hair when the orgasm overtakes me.
"Hmmmm." Spencer places a few more kisses on my neck, his tongue trailing over the heated skin between each one. "That was beautiful."
Embarrassed by the gorgeous man getting me off in under two minutes, I squeeze my hands under his boxers in a messy attempt to wiggle them off his legs.
"Wait," his hand stills mine. "I have bad news."
I twist my head back to see his face. “What?” Hundreds—no thousands—of horrible things a man could say after that phrase compete for space in my brain. I’d rather not hear any of them. A ball of dread grows in my stomach, and I bite my lip with worry.
"I swear I'm not feeding you a line, but I don’t have any condoms in the apartment.” He raises my hand from his hip, placing it on the bed. “I’ll pick some up in the morning, and we can do this all over again tomorrow."
"Really?" If his next line is some attempt to get me to have sex without a condom, I’m out of here.
