My throat tightened, and the blush across my cheeks deepened. He was so close now, his hands on my arms and his bristly beard tickling the side of my face. I couldn't think straight. I couldn't reason past the loudthumpof my heart in my ears and the staggering impossibility that his words might be true. "You're teasing me," I got out.
"Oh, that I plan to do," he murmured, his voice a low purr. "But I am not lying, if that's what you mean."
I choked on a laugh. "Spencer… you… this is…" I faltered, at a loss for words. My arms twitched as I resisted the desire to wrap them around his torso.
Spencer pulled away slowly, but then he took my face in his hands, and it was so tender, I almost melted into the hardwood flooring. "I haven't heard you laugh in years, Bee." His throat bobbed, and the sincerity in his eyes only stoked the warmth in my chest. "I forgot what it sounded like. It was good—seeing you have fun wasgood." He paused, assessing my surprised expression. "And then I got thinking about the last time I made youreallyhappy." His expression cracked with a cocky grin, then. Typical Spencer.
I made a wordless, tight sound in my throat. "Jesus, Spence."
His thumbs brushed my cheeks. "If you don't want me to touch you, I won't. But I sure as hell want to.”
I had dreamed of little else since January. When I closed my eyes at night, the ghost of his touch haunted me. The brand of his lips on my skin burned me. The memory of release, of belonging, echoed behind my closed lids. How could Inotwant him to touch me?
But what would that make me if I allowed it? Desperate. And a pawn. Sylvia wanted nothing more than for this marriage tobecome a semblance of truth. She would gloat and laugh and congratulate herself on a job well done if she ever knew how deeply I desired the husband she had forced me to marry.
I wanted nothing more than to thaw into his arms and let Spencer hold the little broken pieces of my soul together. I wanted to feel warm and desired and safe. But the cruel irony was that our marriage prevented that from ever happening. So, instead, I drew in an unsteady breath and conjured a cheeky smirk. "Come on. I have a raging virus in my body, and I've been hacking like a two-pack-a-day smoker. You want a piece of that?"
If I'd dissuaded Spencer from feeling attraction to me, it didn't show. His lips curved up slightly, and he let his gaze caress my features and down to my sweater, only to return to my eyes again. "I don’t have to kiss you to give you pleasure."
What had he said a second ago?Breathless. He left me breathless. The air caught in my lungs, and I stared at him in wide-eyed astonishment. Taking my silence as a de facto "yes," Spencer brushed his knuckles down the sides of my neck, tracing a line down my body. He leaned down, and his breath fanned out over my throat, warm and soothing. "You don't need a safe word, right?"
"Oh my God," I gusted out.
"I'll take that as a 'yes,' too," he murmured against my skin. Then he chuckled, and his hands fitted to my waist. "I'm half joking. I'm not going to ravage you when you have pneumonia. But," he added, moving his lips up my neck to whisper a kiss along my jaw, "I might play. Do you want to play a little?"
I couldn't string coherent thoughts together in a manageable way, so I gasped out a hesitant, "Yes."
Spencer's hands followed the narrow curve of my waist, reminding me that I wasn't in possession of the kind of curves that were usually desired when men "played" with women. Butthen my fears were smothered when he groaned softly, kissing my neck and bracketing my ribs with his hands, brushing his thumbs against my breasts. "You feel like heaven."
My breath hitched, and I closed my eyes. I could let myself enjoy this much. I wasn't giving in to the enemy with this brief moment—no one was going to win from this but me. And Spencer. That was okay.
His hold on my ribs tightened, and before I realized what he was about, he lifted me and placed me on the counter. He pressed my knees apart and came to stand between them, his mouth coasting across my sensitive skin to the hollow of my throat. Barely even conscious of what I was doing, I brought my hands up to his hair, scrubbing my palms up the shaved bottom half and then gripping the long waves on top. He groaned again, and his thumbs circled my nipples over my sweater. Electric desire rocked through me, and I gasped, arching my back into his touch and letting my head hang back.
I wanted to kiss him, but I knew he was avoiding direct contact so that he didn't get sick. It was the smarter option, but I felt empty, somehow. Bereft. He sucked on the other side of my neck, his fingers pinching my nipples softly, and my pussy went molten lava liquid. A needy sound puffed from my open mouth, and I tightened my grip on his hair.
He paused, sucking softly against my delicate skin, and then he closed his lips, kissing the spot he'd gently bruised. He sighed, his hands leaving my breasts to hold my waist. He let his forehead fall to my shoulder. "You have a fever," he groaned.
I lifted my head, my breathing slowing. "What?" I panted.
"You have a fever," he repeated. He pulled away from me, regret etched into his features. "I only noticed when your skin was warmer than my mouth."
I didn't think it was possible for my cheeks to grow more scarlet than they already were, but I managed to beat my own expectations. "Oh."
He took my face in his hands again, his brows tilted up. "Sorry. I should have had better self-restraint."
No! Tear my clothes off! Go wild. Use me. Touch me.I swallowed bitter disappointment and gave him a half smile. "It's probably for the best."
His expression said he didn't agree. Reluctantly, he helped me off the counter, but then he immediately pulled me into a comforting bear hug that seemed to swallow me whole. "Don't think you're getting out of it, Arabella Rook. I'll just have to be more patient."
My heart gave a quick flute trill of happiness. "M'kay," I mumbled into his dark green Henley. This was okay, right? Nothing wrong with enjoying each other's company… naked. Jesus, this was a tangled mess.
"Come on. Let's get you back to bed." He reached around me for the medicine he kept on the counter, and I released a breath laden with dejected calm. He kept his arm around me as he led me past the sparkly tree and happy decorations to my bedroom. He glanced at my face, his smile crooked. "So… was this better than hiring a decorator?"
I glanced at my cozy farmhouse with its comically large Christmas tree and shiny new decorations. I didn't even bother to hide my pleasure as I lifted a look to his cocky expression. "I might let you make a habit of visiting for Christmas. ButI'mchoosing the tree next time."
His mouth stretched with chagrin. "Please, God. Never again."
Chapter nineteen
