AFTER SPENCER CALMS ME DOWN, we walk back out into the living area to find everyone waiting for us, somber expressions on their faces, most of them clutching glasses filled with alcohol. It’s been a stressful afternoon, not just for me but for them too, and I feel terrible.
Carolina greets me first, tugging me into a hug. “Are you okay?” she murmurs close to my ear.
I nod, squeezing her in return before I let go of her. “She…unsettles me.”
“Me too,” she whispers.
“Complete understatement of the century,” Monty says before he takes a swig of his drink, like he needs it. “I didn’t realize it was so awful between the two of you.”
“I’m sorry I posted your party on social media,” Cliff says, appearing contrite. He can barely look me in the eye and I go to him, giving him a quick hug as my sign of forgiveness.
Not that there is anything to forgive him for. He didn’t know his posts would start such a shit storm.
“I posted something too, and I’m so sorry, Sylvie-bug. I didn’t mean to start any trouble.” My father is suddenly in front of me, pulling me in for a bone crushing hug. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been hugged so much and I have to admit…
It’s nice.
“It’s okay, Daddy.” He hasn’t called me that nickname in so long. Mother always hated it, but not me.
I loved it.
My father pulls away, smiling down at me as he cups my cheek. I lean into his palm, smiling at him in return and something unspoken passes between us. Like he just asked for forgiveness and I gave it to him.
“We should meet for dinner soon,” he says, his head lifting so he can scan the room. “All of us.”
He means all of his children.
“Call my assistant and set up a time,” Whit says gruffly and I roll my eyes at my father. Such a typical Whit response.
I have to appreciate his consistency though.
Spencer never leaves my side as our guests leave one by one. We remain by the door, thanking everyone for coming as they exit. I try to apologize for what happened but none of them will hear it.
“It’s not your fault,” Summer tells me, her sincere gaze never straying from mine. “Unwanted guests always have a way of ruining the party.”
That made me laugh. But only for a minute.
I’m still to shaken up by what happened with my mother. How her mere presence rattles me. She holds a different kind of power over me now and I despise it.
I despise her. I do.
Once everyone is gone and the house is cleared of the catering staff, Spencer leads me into the massive bathroom connected to his bedroom and practically demands I take a bath. He even starts the water for me, adding some fragrant bath salts. I let him take care of me, barely moving when he unzips my dress. Lifting my arms when he tells me to do so to take it off. When I’m standing in front of him in just a pair of lacy pale pink panties, staring off into space, he kisses me. A lip-smacking loud kiss that pulls me from my stupor.
“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs, his mouth right at my ear. “I promise.”
I watch him go, and the moment the door closes, I’m so incredibly lonely, I’m tempted to call him back into the room. Strip him naked and have him bathe with me.
We’d do more than bathe. We can’t be near each other with our clothes off without something happening. I’m surprised he used such restraint and walked away from me when I was basically naked.
He’s never really done that before.
My gaze drifts around the giant bathroom, spotting my phone on the sleek marble counter. I grab it, spotting the notifications on the screen and I tap the iMessage one.
A text from my mother.
I miss you so much. I wish you wouldn’t turn me away from you. Setting your watchdog on me won’t work forever. Nothing can keep us apart, darling. I’m as much a part of you as you are of me.
A chill ripples down my spine at her words. At the ominous tone within them.
Another text appears, my phone vibrating when it arrives, making me jolt.
It hurts, seeing my family together and not including me. I don’t know what else to do to fix your problem with me. I said I was sorry. What more do you want?
Glancing up, I catch my reflection in the mirror, and slowly, I drop my arms at my sides, fascinated with what I see.
A normal-sized woman. Average really. Not gangly and sickly and awkward, like I used to be. Not pale and gaunt and barely able to stand. With clear lungs and a clear head and rosy cheeks. Silky blonde hair where it was once brittle. Clear blue eyes where they were once clouded and rimmed with red.
I lift my chin and take a step closer to the counter, bracing my hands on the edge of the marble. Once upon a time, I had been a timid little girl who was scared of her own shadow. Who pretended she was fine, when she was anything but.
A girl who listened to every word her mother said, and believed her. Who then turned on her family and friends because she didn’t know any better.
Who almost lost the man she loved, yet somehow, here I am, living with him. He takes care of me. Spencer loves me.
And I love him.
I was about to tell him that too, when she showed up and ruined everything.
Typical.
The phone buzzes again, and I check my messages to see it’s just the same one she sent before. I’m tempted to answer her. I even open my phone and go into the text thread, my fingers poised and ready to tap out a scathing response.
Instead, I carefully set the phone back on the counter and back away from it. The phone sounds again, the vibration sending it rumbling on the counter, and without thought, I run to it, scoop it up in my hands and go to the window. It cracks open in an instant, too easily really, and I’m tossing the phone out. Off the thirty-sixth floor. The whoosh of the phone being caught by the air before it plummets to the ground makes me take a step back before I rise on tiptoe and try to peak through the barely-opened window, but I can’t see anything.
It’s as if it’s been swallowed up by the sky. Gone.
Gone.
Then I remember I got a new phone, with a new number, and I wonder how she got a hold of me. Who gave her that number? Who?
I slam the window closed and flee the bathroom, in search of Spencer, who I find standing at the kitchen counter, a tumbler full of rich brown liquid clutched in his fingers as he’s about to bring it to his lips. He pauses when he sees me, and I’m sure I’m a sight. Clad in just the panties that are completely see-through and my eyes wild. I feel wild.
Feral.
“Who gave my phone number to my mother?”
He carefully sets the glass on the counter. “I don’t know.”
“I got a new phone before I went to Big Sur. I didn’t give that number to anyone but Roland.”
“You gave your number to people when you returned here, didn’t you?”
I nod, glancing about the kitchen, wishing I had a drink too. “What is that?” I flick my chin at the glass in front of him.
“Scotch.”
I make a face. “Gross.”
“It’s an acquired taste.”
“I need a beer. Or vodka. Maybe tequila.” I go to the refrigerator and open the freezer door, the blast of cold air making goosebumps dot my skin. “You don’t have any vodka? What kind of mobster are you?”
“Not the Russian kind, that’s for damn sure.” He shuts the door for me, angling his body between the fridge and me, his warmth seeping into my nakedness. “What are you doing?”
“I’m pissed.”
“I can see that.” His hot gaze rakes over me, making me shiver. “Did you turn off the water?”
“What? Oh. No.”
“You want to flood out our bathroom?” He arches a brow.
It’s my turn to let my gaze roam the length of him. He removed the suit jacket and tie long ago, the white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, exposing the tanned column of his throat. His shirtsleeves are rolled up, showing off his muscular forearms, and everything inside me goes liquid.
Hot.
“No.” I slowly shake my head, my fingers brushing against his right arm. Bare skin that’s hot. A body that’ll help me forget. “I threw my phone out the window.”
“We’re on the thirty-sixth floor, Syl.”
“I know. My mom wouldn’t stop texting me.”
It takes everything for him to remain calm. I can see the internal struggle happening in his turbulent gaze. “What did she say?”
“Nothing important.” I push her words aside. I don’t want to think about them. I don’t want to think about her.
“Important enough to piss you off and have you stomping in here after tossing your phone out the window.”
“I can buy another one,” I say with a little shrug. “I can buy a hundred new ones. And I bet she’d eventually figure out my new phone number and know how to get in contact with me.”
He tilts his head to the side, studying me with those dark, assessing eyes. “What else aren’t you telling me?”
“I was trying to tell you something earlier. Before she came in.” I form my lips into a little pout before I dance away from him, going over to the counter and hopping onto it, so I’m sitting on the edge, my legs dangling. “Do you remember?”
He comes closer, crowding me, his hands braced on either side of the counter, his arms boxing me in. His scent fills my head, making me dizzy, and I lean forward, until my face is directly in his. “I remember,” he murmurs.
“Should I say it now?” I brush his mouth with mine. Featherlight. A complete tease. “Or wait?”
“Should I go turn off that water?” When I smile, his expression turns stern. “I’m serious. You’re going to flood the apartment if we don’t watch it.”
“That tub is massive.”
“And it doesn’t take long to fill it up.” He’s about to walk away when I grab hold of his shirt front, keeping him with me. “Come on, Syl. Let me—”
“I love you,” I announce, interrupting him.
He goes still, his gaze settling on mine. Hot and burning bright. “Yeah?”
I nod, slowly undoing each button of his shirt, exposing the strong expanse of his chest. “Yes. I love you. I never say it. It’s a scary statement to make, that you love someone that’s not a member of your family. And even then, us Lancasters don’t make declarations of love often. We keep our feelings tucked away inside, where they’re safe.”
He doesn’t say a word as I work at removing his shirt. When it’s nothing but a discarded scrap of fabric on the floor, I reach for his belt, slowly undoing it.
“You don’t have anything to say?”
“I figured you weren’t finished.”
The moment his trousers are undone, I’m sliding my hand inside, curling my fingers around his erection. He’s fully hard and throbbing against my palm, and I feel an answering throb between my thighs. “You are the only person in this entire world who makes me feel safe, Spence. Only you.”
He leans in, nuzzling my cheek, his mouth at my ear. “I would destroy this entire world if it meant keeping you safe.”
I dive my hand beneath his boxer briefs, encountering velvety, hot skin. “You mean it?”
“With my whole heart.” He nips at my ear, making me shiver. “Which you own, by the way.”
“Spencer,” I whisper, suddenly overcome. To the point that my eyes are damp and my throat is thick. “I’ve been in love with you for what feels like forever.”
“Even when you were married to someone else?” He thrusts his cock into my hand, and I squeeze him hard, making him groan.
“Especially when I was married to someone else.” He keeps bringing it up, and I hate that, but I suppose I can’t blame him.
“You want me to fuck you on this counter?”
I nod, stroking him, my breaths accelerating. His cock grows in my hand, I swear. Thicker. Longer. Harder. “Please.”
“Gonna need to check the water first.” He scoops me up without warning, making me squeal, and then he basically throws me over his shoulder, so I’m hanging upside down. I pound at his back, letting forth a frustrated growl.
He merely smacks my ass in response, the crack of his palm hitting my skin loud in the quiet apartment.
“You spanked me!” I’m shocked. Heat spreads where his large hand made contact with my flesh, leaving me flustered.
Jittery.
“You deserved it.” He does it again, and this time, I scream.
Oh God, my panties are wet. Who knew that a smack on the butt could feel so good?
He strides into the bedroom with me, tossing me onto the bed like a blanket he’s discarding before he makes his way to the bathroom. I hear him curse under his breath as he turns off the water, but otherwise, he says nothing else.
I nibble on my bottom lip, hoping he’s not mad at me for flooding his precious bathroom.
When he reappears, he remains in the open doorway, the bathroom light gilding the outline of him, so it’s as if he’s glowing. He’s shirtless, his pants hanging half undone, his shoes gone somewhere along the way. His gaze remains on me as he reaches for the front of his trousers, shoving them down along with his boxer briefs and kicking them off, so he’s standing in front of me with only gray socks on his feet.
I rest my hand over my mouth, stifling a giggle.
He cracks a smile. “You think it’s funny, huh?”
I shake my head, a tiny trickle of fear and a heavy amount of desire coursing through my blood as he stalks toward the bed. I scoot backward, as if I’m going to run away, but he clamps his fingers around my ankle, yanking me toward him. Dragging me down the mattress until my legs are dangling over the edge.
He slides his hands up until they’re between my thighs, and he spreads them wide open, his gaze dropping to my lace-covered pussy. He stares for so long I start to squirm, and when he finally touches me there, a gentle brush of his fingers over the lace, I sigh with longing.
“More,” I whisper.
He doesn’t give me what I want. Instead, he removes his hand from me completely, bracing his hands on the edge of the bed while he toes off his socks. Not the sexiest move I’ve seen from Spencer, but right now, everything he does leaves me breathless. Primed and ready for him.
“You’re stalling.”
“You deserve it.” He leans over me, thrusting his face in mine. “You left a mess in the bathroom.”
“It flooded?” I frown.
He nods slowly, dipping his head to nip at my lower lip. “Yeah. I’m never leaving you alone with a bath again.”
“I almost asked you to join me.”
“You should’ve.” He kisses my jaw, nibbling the skin. “I would’ve made sure to turn off the water in time.”
I brace my hands on his chest, his heat burning against my palms. “You’re not really mad, are you?”
His brows draw together as he pulls away, so he can look into my eyes. “No. Not at all.”
Relief makes my shoulders sag. “Good.”
“I’m trying to distract you.” His mouth lands on my neck, sliding down until he’s raining kisses across my chest. Then farther, until he’s breathing on my nipple, just before he envelops it with his mouth.
“It’s working,” I murmur, thrusting my fingers in his hair and praying he doesn’t leave. “Oh God, don’t stop.”
He works his magic on my breasts. Sucking and nibbling and licking. Drawing a nipple into his mouth so tightly, I gasp. When his hand slides back down, landing between my legs, I whimper. And when he slips those fingers beneath the lace to touch my hot, wet skin, I moan.
“Fuck,” I bite out when he strokes my clit. It’s swollen. Hot and achy to the touch and my hips begin to work when he rubs tiny circles over it. “You’re going to make me come.”
“That’s the goal, Syl.” He lifts away from my chest and I can feel him watching me, his gaze heavy. Intimidating.
I’m so close, and the moment feels so…intimate. After everything that happened today, I’m raw. Vulnerable. Angry and aroused and so in love with this man. I tilt my head back, a moan sounding deep in my throat when he thrusts two fingers inside my body and begins to pump.
“Open your eyes, baby.”
They flash open as if I have no control over them, surprised by him calling me baby. He’s never done that before. Not that I can remember.
His dark gaze meets mine, and he doesn’t look away as he continues to fuck me with his fingers. “I love you.”
A shiver moves through me at his declaration. That this big, handsome man could love me. That he’s loved me since we were teens. Kids.
“Say it.” His fingers pause, buried deep inside me, his thumb pressing against my clit. “Tell me you love me, Sylvie.”
I’m breathing deep, taking fortifying gulps, my entire body buzzing with the need to come. I can feel it, just hovering on the edge, ready to sweep over me, but he keeps me hanging there. My clit is electrified, throbbing beneath the pressure of his thumb, and I shift beneath him, needing more of that friction.
“Say it.” He presses harder, his fingers sliding deeper, until it feels like an invasion. “I won’t let you come until you say it.”
Why is it so hard? I said it once already. But the words are stalled in my throat, until it feels like I’m choking on them.
He kneels down in front of me, his other hand finding my hip, yanking me closer. His mouth is just above my pussy, I can feel his breath waft over my sensitive skin, and I press my lips together, closing my eyes.
“Look at me,” he demands, and I do. I can’t help but do everything he tells me to. “I love you, Syl. So fucking much, I would do whatever it takes to keep you safe. To make you feel protected. To make you happy. All I want is for the two of us to be together forever. And I don’t take that shit lightly. I’m not like the rest of my family. When I care about someone, I love them hard.”
My entire body is trembling at his words.
“And I’ve been fucking obsessed with you since I was fourteen. The poor little rich girl who was always sick. That’s how you portrayed yourself to the rest of the world, but never to me.”
“Spencer…”
“You say you love me again and I’m never going to let you go. It doesn’t matter what happens. I’m by your side until the day I die.” He dips his head, his tongue lightly tracing along the side of my clit.
“I love you,” I breathe, my gaze staying on his as he puts his mouth on my pussy. “I love you so much. You know it’s only ever been you.”
“Promise?” He lifts his brows, his thumb doing slow circles on my clit once more.
I nod, my hips moving with him as his fingers slide in and out of me. Faster and faster.
“Say it.”
“I promise to love you forever. You’re the only one for me. The only one who’s ever been inside me,” I declare.
“Fuck that’s hot.” He rises above me, hands braced on either side of my head, his cock sliding into my body unassisted. I arch into him, my clit nudging against the base of his erection and that’s all it takes.
I’m coming, my inner walls milking him, clenching tight around his shaft. He fucks me hard, grunting with every thrust, no condom necessary since I went on the pill the minute I came back to New York.
No babies. I’m not ready for them like my brother. I’d be a terrible mother.
I know this is true.
He fucks me steadily, grunting with every thrust, making me come again, sweat dripping down his face. His chest. I rise up, rubbing my cheek against his skin, absorbing the tangy saltiness of his sweat, wanting him to mark me everywhere.
An idea forms in my head and I push against his chest, making him stop. “What?”
“Come on me.”
He frowns. “Really?”
“Yes. Pull out and come all over me.” I run my hand down my front. “Here.”
He resumes thrusting, pounding his body into mine, and I can tell he’s close. The tension in his shoulders, the sounds he makes deep in his throat. I know all of his tells already, and when the orgasm is almost upon him, he rips himself away from me, grips the base of his cock and…
Spurts cum all over me.
I smile as I watch him, reaching for the spot on my stomach, dragging my fingers through the sticky liquid. He’s on his haunches between my spread legs, his head tilted back, his eyes closed as he breathes raggedly. He shivers, another tiny spurt of creamy liquid dripping from his cock, and I reach for him, tracing the slit. Scooping up what remnants I can before I bring my fingers to my lips and taste.
“Jesus, Syl.”
“I know.” My smile grows. “That was the best distraction ever.”
