Page 52 of Filthy Savage

It’s too fucking much.

I reach for the phone on the small table next to the bed, unlock it, and look at the text notifications. Nothing. Finding Spencer’s name, I decide to send her a message. I should have called her last night, but I was too fucking trashed. It would have been a fucking disaster if I had.

MORNING, BEAUTIFUL. HOW WAS YOUR NIGHT?

Her response is almost immediate.

SPENCER: My night was good. But more importantly, how was yours?

???

She sends me a laughing face emoji. Then I see those three little dots appear as she types something else.

SPENCER: You were pretty drunk. But I appreciate you calling me.

Fuck.

What the fucking fuck did I say to her? I don’t remember calling her, let alone what I possibly said to her. I stare at my phone, at the messaging app, frozen and unable to move. The phone rings a moment later, her face bright and fucking gorgeous, filling my screen.

Sliding my thumb across the screen, I let out a heavy sigh and lift it to my ear. I open my mouth, but Spencer’s words come before I can say a single word.

“I figured you didn’t know what to say over text,” she murmurs.

She sounds sleepy and sexy, almost too sexy. Even though my head feels like a hammer is being pounded into the side, my cock twitches at the sound of her voice. I want to be inside of her, even though I feel like absolute dog shit.

“What did I say?” I finally ask.

My voice sounds rough as hell even to my own ears. Spencer doesn’t answer immediately. I don’t know if she’s trying to make me suffer or if she’s trying to put her thoughts together. Either way, I hold my breath for a moment.

“Nothing bad. Actually, you kept telling me how much you liked me. That you missed me, and if I ever left you, that you would bring me back home. Because Pineville was where I belonged, where I’ve always belonged.”

Massaging the back of my neck a bit harder in an effort to release some tension, I let out a snort. Honest to fuck, I’m surprised I didn’t confess my everlasting love. It seems like something I would have added to the end of that sappy speech.

“I thought it was sweet,” she continues softly. “I think I needed it.”

It’s at that moment I hear the doubt in her voice. “Spencer?” I ask, unsure of what questions to actually ask. Thankfully, she understands what I’m trying to say here because she answers me.

“Admitting this makes me feel stupid. But I wasn’t sure if you were somewhere with women.”

“And you weren’t sure if I would partake in what they have to offer?” I ask.

She lets out a shaky breath. “I know the way the club life works. The men do who and what they want. The old ladies stay home and raise babies. You know I don’t want that.”

Since this is not the first time I’ve had this conversation with her, I would typically be annoyed at having to reassure anyone a second time, but considering the topic and the woman, I’m not.

I want her to know that she can trust everything I tell her, even when I can’t go into detail. I want her to trust in the man I am. I’ve never wanted anything like that before. The feeling is foreign, but I’m trusting the process—our process.

“I’m at a strip club, but it’s empty. Nash hasn’t even hired all of the girls yet. It was just us guys getting shit-faced last night. We found out that this whole thing was bigger than we expected. We’re probably going to have to go to Virginia, and we were all drowning our sorrows and celebrating the club’s completion. It opens soon.”

Spencer clears her throat slightly, then laughs. “You don’t have to explain it all to me, but I do appreciate it more than you could know.”

“Beautiful?” I call out. “I’ll always tell you what I can. I want this, but most importantly, I want you to never regret slumming it with me.”

I mean every word of that, too. She may have had feelings for me for all these years, but I know without a doubt that I am completely and totally undeserving of her in every way possible.

And yet, that doesn’t stop me from keeping her for myself.

Though, in a few years, when Clink is out of prison, I’m going to have a fight on my hands… and I welcome it.

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