Page 13 of Sinful Secrets

“But if it starts hurting, we will leave. Now let’s head inside so you can get off of it for a little while.”

“You sure are bossy. You must like being in control of everything.”

A small growl rips from his throat as he closes the space between us. “You have no idea, Savannah. You’re diving into dangerous waters.”

The close proximity causes my chest to rise and fall rapidly, as if my heart is trying to reach out and touch Spencer’s hard, sculpted chest.

“Dangerous waters? What if I want a little danger in my life?” I press my body against his and practically moan at the sensation.

What the fuck am I thinking? Spencer looks like he’s capable of killing a man. I shouldn’t be egging him on.

He presses his body into mine until my back is resting against the brick wall. He doesn’t give me time to process what is happening before his lips are on mine.

They are firm and demanding, but still soft and demanding. This kiss is like a wildfire burning me up from the inside out.

A soft moan fills the air as his lips move down to my neck. Angling my head to the side, his tongue swipes along the sensitive flesh before gently sucking.

“Oh, fuck. Spencer.” I moan as my eyes roll into the back of my head. My back arches, needing to be closer to the man who’s bringing me more pleasure than I’ve had in weeks.

A chime of a text message separates us, giving our bodies space to calm the raging hormones.

He holds the door open for me, and I walk inside as he checks his phone. “I’m sorry, but I have to make a quick call.”

I am shown to a booth toward the back of the bar and order two waters to start with.

Spencer slides into the booth across from me. “Sorry about that. It was a co-worker calling about a company event.”

“I ordered us water. I didn’t know what your drink preference was.”

“Water is fine with me.”

I stare at his perfect boy-next-door face. His beard is trimmed short and his eyebrows are manicured. Even his hair looks like it’s been styled by a professional.

The waitress brings our water and takes our order. Spencer and I both order cheeseburgers, but I order onion rings and he orders fries.

After she leaves, Spencer leans forward and asks, “So, why did you choose fashion?”

“Well, to tell you that story, I really have to start at the beginning so you can understand better.”

He chuckles. “I’ve got time.”

“When I was little, I loved to dance. My mom signed me up for a jazz class, but I hated it, so she tried ballet. As an only child, I loved it. I was around other girls who shared my passion. They were like sisters to me.”

I pause as I remember what it was like to dance on stage. It was so freeing to leave my problems behind and just do what I loved.

“I stopped dancing right before my parents’ divorce was finalized and turned my attention to fashion. I was getting older and being poor meant no new clothes for school, so I taught myself how to sew and started making my clothes.”

“Why not do both? You could have danced while pursuing fashion.”

“My recitals kept my dad away from his mistress and kept my mom from being able to buy her booze since my classes came out of her paycheck.”

Our waitress returns with our burgers before leaving the two of us alone to continue our conversation.

“I’m sorry you went through that. I can’t imagine not being able to continue with my passion, especially as a child.”

“It wasn’t all that bad. Sure, it was rough at times, but it got better after the divorce.”

His eyes widen. “It did?”

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