Page 94 of Help Me Remember
“You know what?”
He doesn’t answer me before he exits the car, walks around to my side, and pulls my door open.
I’ve had enough of this. Of all of it. I refuse to move. I cross my arms and stay in the car, very aware I look like a freaking idiot.
“Get out of the car, Brie.”
“Not until we’re done talking.”
Spencer sighs heavily. “We are done.”
“No, you’re done. You decided, and I don’t agree.”
“Get out of the damn car.”
The one thing I know is that no matter what, I am safe. He will never hurt me. He may wish he could strangle me right now, but he’d die before harming anyone he loves.
“You’re welcome to get back in or”—I reach into my bag and pull out my keys—“you can go inside if you like, wait there until I decide I’m ready.”
He laughs once. “You’re kidding?”
“I’m not. You’re done talking, but I want you to tell me what happened between almost kissing me at the MOTY awards and now.”
He reaches into the car, and at first, I think he’s going to pull me out, but he snatches the keys and walks toward the house. “Quinn? Can you watch her?”
I hear an owl sound in response.
“Thanks!” Spencer replies, lifting his hand.
Ugh. That man. He is seriously going to leave me in the car—at night—with no keys. Shit! He has my panic button. Now it’s me who is going to do the strangling.
I get out of the car, slam the door, hoping it breaks the mirror or something, and then I hear the beep of the lock after I take my first step.
“Spencer!” I yell, knowing the asshole can hear me. “I’m going to kill you!”
I rush into my building and mumble the entire way about all the ways I’m going to seek retribution. I push open the door to my apartment, ready to unleash the holy wrath of hell, but he’s in the foyer, waiting, and there’s something in his eyes that stops me.
That undeniable pull is pulsing between us, calling to me, and I can’t breathe. I need him. I am angry and confused and all the other things, but more than any of it, is desperation for the man standing in front of me.
I throw my clutch to the ground and stride toward him as he moves toward me. We grab for each other and our mouths slam together. It’s too much and not enough. I need to feel his skin, taste him, breathe him into me so I’m whole.
He kisses me deeper, sliding his hot tongue against mine. His hands slide down my back before pulling the zipper down as I start to unbutton his shirt. I don’t care that none of this makes sense because it doesn’t have to. It’s Spencer, and it’s right.
“Tell me to stop, Brielle,” he pleads.
“Never.”
I don’t give him a chance to ask me for something else, I kiss him harder, shoving both his coat and shirt off his shoulders, loving the width and strength of his body. We think too much, and I am done.
He doesn’t remove my dress, just lets it hang open as his fingers are splayed across my bare back, holding me to him.
I pull back, trying to slip my hands between us, so afraid this moment will end.
“Slow down, sweetheart,” Spencer says between breaths. “What do you want me to do? What do you want, Brie?”
As I go to answer, there’s a sharp pain in my head. I push back, and he releases me instantly. The throbbing is so overwhelming and sharp that I can’t hear anything. I close my eyes, battling the agony, and then, it disappears. The mist is lighter. I can see parts of something.
It’s warm, the sun isn’t fully up in the sky yet, but the heat is constant. Isaac and I are in a parking lot, talking and joking about something. I can hear his voice and see his smile as we exit the car.
