“Give me the benefit of the doubt, Bella.” I squeezed her knee.
Thank fuck. The car finally pulled up to my building, and instead of waiting for my driver to get out and open the door, I jumped out, reaching my hand for Avery’s to help her out.
After thanking my driver, we walked through the lobby with my hand secured around her lower back.
I knew once we made it up to my penthouse, shit was going to get real between us. More real than it’d ever been.
Last night had been fun, games, and fooling around. But tonight, she would be opening her heart up to me and spilling a secret I’d been curious about since the moment I met her.
Why did she need to work this job?
My only hope was that it wasn’t as big of a deal as she was making it out to be.
“Doyou mind if I get comfortable?” At this point, I was doing everything in my power to avoid this conversation. Even though I knew it was going to happen one way or another.
It was a slip of the tongue. That’s what Spencer had the ability to do to me lately—let my control slip from my fingertips. Just when I thought he allowed my walls to come down brick by brick, a wrecking ball came through instead, completely smashing them to the ground.
“Make yourself at home.” He smirked, and the butterflies in my stomach were relentless.
Just last night, Spencer moved my new clothes to a pile in the corner. Tonight, they’d been cleaned up.
I guess I’d have to take a look around.
His bedroom was lacking a dresser and any storage space, so for the first time, I walked into his closet.
Holy shit.
The closet of my fucking dreams.
Mahogany hardwood floors were spread throughout, and a large area rug surrounded the center. Gliding my feet along thecarpet was equivalent to experiencing sand on a beach for the first time.
A massive island bigger than most people’s kitchen counters sat in the middle of the closet with a modern chandelier hanging above, illuminating the room with warm, inviting tones.
I ran my finger along each suit, dress shirt, and sleek piece of wood holding it all together. His clothes were perfectly spaced, almost looking untouched. Drawers were filled with watches, ties, socks, underwear, and anything you could think of that wouldn’t be hung in a showy way.
To get dressed in a closet of this caliber was an experience of its own.
After I picked my jaw off the floor, I noticed an entire corner with clothes that definitely didn’t look like something he would wear. I hadn’t had the chance to rummage through it all last night to notice he’d bought even more than I thought. What I assumed were bags full of athletic wear and pajamas, apparently also had sequins, floor length gowns, and something for every occasion.
Underneath the space he’d chosen to hang all the new clothes—clothing that wasmine—were drawers full of everything else that he’d gotten for me. Lingerie, pajamas, silks, and soft cotton I couldn’t wait to slip over my body.
This time, I picked out some comfy leggings and paired them with an oversized shirt. Except the shirt wasn’t from my side of the closet.
Once I was dressed, I was surprised to find Spencer sitting on the couch that I swore looked stiff because it was all for show and not for leisure.
His eyes met mine, then slowly worked down my body.
“Out of all the clothes in that closet, you settled on one of my old hockey shirts?”
My lips turned up as I shrugged.
“Looked comfy. Plus, it smells like you. Hope you don’t mind.” I took a seat next to him on the couch. The fear I once held of getting too close to him started to slip away.
“Trust me, I don’t mind at all. Back when I played, this would have been a wet dream for me—seeing my number on your back and the team’s name stretched across your tits.” His palm wrapped across the back of my neck as he pulled me close and brought his lips to my forehead for a simple kiss.
How was it that he could say dirty things like that and follow it up with a kiss to the forehead? If I weren’t filled with anxiety about what we needed to talk about, then I’d take him in the next room and wrap my lips around his cock while wearing his shirt.
Clearing my throat and shooing away the dirty thoughts, I asked, “You played hockey, huh?”
