“You’re hard.”
“You turn me on. Spence, you just have to lookat me, and I get hard. It’s happened more than once, trust me. It’ll keep happening. That doesn’t mean we have to do anything. It’s a reaction that I have to you and nothing more. It’s not an obligation. I want you to invade my space in whatever way makes you feel comfortable. I just need you in reach, and mine.”
“I am yours.”
“Then I’m good. Better than good. Now shut up and eat your pancakes.”
Chapter twenty-four
Spencer
There are twelve Jacksthat work for the TV studio that produces the soap opera that Veronica worked for.Twelve.“I didn’t know this name was so popular.” It’s not the most interesting name that I can think of.
“Statistically, every name is popular,” Kendrick murmurs, not looking up from the papers he’s flicking through while leaning back in his chair at his desk. He looks relaxed, but I know he isn’t. “There are over twenty-five million people in Australia and over eight billion people in the world; chances are, there are more than a few people with the same name.”
“That all work in the same place?”
He shrugs nonchalantly.
He’s been like this all day. Distant.Weird. I nudge his thigh with my foot. “Are you gonna look at me at all today or…?”
He tenses. Still doesn’t look up. For fuck’s sake. “Is this about yesterday?”
He does look up then. That’s something, at least, I guess. “Is what about yesterday?”
“Why you’re ignoring me.”
“We’re literally having a conversation right now,” he points out.
Not really. Not in a way that matters. He’s closed himself off from me, and I want to know why. “Did I do it wrong?” Why couldn’t he have told me that during, so that I could fix it at the time?
Kendrick pinches the bridge of his nose and drops the papers on his desk. “Of course not.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Spence.”
“You’re lying.” I hate when he does that and keeps things from me. We don’t get to do that, not about anything.
“What do you want from me?”
“Why don’t we start with the truth?” I suggest, irritation prickling at me.
He hooks a foot around my chair and drags me closer before gripping my hips and tugging me into his arms. I relax against him, heart unclenching. At least enough to breathe a little easier. If he’s touching me, then this can’t be that bad, can it?
He brushes his knuckles over my cheek and then nudges the glasses that I’m wearing up my nose. He spent a whole hour earlier convincing me to wear them. I like the way he looks at me when I have them on, so I don’t mind so much anymore. That doesn’t mean he has to know that.
“I’m not looking at you, because I can’t, not if I want to get any work done.”
I tilt my head in confusion. “O… kay?” That doesn’t make any sense.
He skims his lips over mine. “I can’t concentrate when I look at you. All I can hear are the sounds you make when I’m inside you,the way your face looks when you come apart in my arms. I look at you, and I want you all over again. I want to touch you and have you closer. If I thought I needed you before, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now.”
Oh. Well, that definitely makes me feel better. It means I didn’t do it wrong, and he doesn’t hate me. Double win.
“You wanna make out?” I ask slyly.
“Baby, you don’t even have to ask that.”
