“Now, no. Sometimes we get stuck in the idea of something and ignore that we might not be with the right person to make it happen,” I explain. Because I don’t think my ex was the one; I’m mostly bitter because I felt humiliated.
Spencer adjusts in his seat, even slides closer to me. “You mean, your dream wedding?”
I narrow my eyes at him because I'm not sure if he's mocking me. “Enough about me. Am I going to run into any of your exes tonight?”
“None of my exes are from around here.”
“Oh? But I do believe you have the 'women who you screw in your pool are only naked' rule.”
He grins a pretty damn swoony grin. “April, sweetheart, you’re the first in my pool.”
I’m not sure why it hasn’t crossed my mind, the idea of other women in his house, maybe because I assumed he has had special guests since he has so many options when it comes to women, or perhaps I’ve been too focused on the moment. That’s a change, as I’m always thinking about the dream ahead or something that happened in the past; it’s never in that moment, except when Spencer is around.
A tickle at my hip bone breaks my thought, and I peer down to find a talented finger tracing a line. Spencer is touching me of his own accord.
“A problem?” I raise my brows.
A smug accomplished smirk slowly appears. “You’re wearing fabric underneath.”
“Wow, he observes.”
“You know in baseball when I pitch, I’m restricted to certain types of throws. It's actually rigid and doesn't leave me much choice, I have to stick to the program. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still exciting, or rather there are other ways to make a game interesting. For example, I could try to pitch an entire game to get a shutout, ensuring the other team doesn’t score at all, and by end of game, my team wins. Want to know what I think?”
His lips brush along my bare shoulder like a feather, and a tingle runs through me. I pray my nipples don’t give me away.
“That I need a sweater,” I quip.
He chuckles, and I love how it’s a sound that pulls me in and feels like an enticing offer.
“I think tonight will be like a shutout. I have no intention of letting anyone else score.”
“Ah, but one problem.” I rest my hand on his thigh, playing the part of a doting other half. “You won’t get your homerun or whatever baseball term I should be using, because I may look the part, but I’m not in the mood to be fucked like you hate me.”
His face is unreadable, but his jaw ticks, and I’m surprised he doesn’t have a jab in return.
The car slows down, and glancing outside, I see we have apparently reached our destination, the sports center, with an outside marquee with heaters, thankfully.
When the car stops, Spencer gets out, buttons his tux, and leans back in to take my hand and help me out.
But as I stand and straighten my dress, the man leans in to whisper in my ear as he wraps a protective arm around my middle to bring my body to his, my upper half molding into his shape.
“Listen, beautiful, think what you want, but I’m not going to let anyone else score, so get used to being by my fucking side.”
14
SPENCER
Why can’t I stop watching her?
All night, I’ve kept my word, and April hasn’t left my side. Instead, I’ve played a part that I’m not exactly used to… Prince Charming.
I fill her glass with wine when it needs a refresh, I keep my arm permanently on the back of her chair as we watch the auction, and I listen with a keen ear when she talks to the table about her trip to Italy and adopting a dog.
April wanted gentlemanly and I’m giving it, but I’m not sure why I care so much. Probably because this woman is possessing my thoughts.
“I’ll be back.” April breaks my moment of being lost in my head.
“Huh?”
