Page 75 of Wine & Whiskey
11
Chapter Eleven
“Ihave to get going. I love you.”
Nick’s whisper tickles her ear. Even in her grogginess, butterflies take flight in her chest from his lips warming her skin. She’ll never tire of hearing his voice, never grow weary of the absolute certainty as he says those three words, like cool water to her once parched heart. She forces her eyes open, burning from lack of sleep, and reads the clock—5:24. They’ve only been in bed a few hours. “Why are you leaving so early?”
“I’ve got a call with some international investors. It’s afternoon where they are.”
She sits up and reaches for her robe. Maybe she can work out on the deck and watch the sun rise, although trying to rouse Carrie to join her won’t be quite as enjoyable.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting up.”
He laughs and sits down on the bed, pulling the fabric out of her hands. Her cheeks lift into a smile from the gentle brush of his fingers across her skin before he shakes his head. “It’s not a competition. I’ve got something to take care of. You don’t. Now go back to sleep.”
Once again, his thoughtfulness stirs that ache, that longing she’s never known before. Not even with Evan. He was always careful, hesitant, timid. Exactly what she needed at the time, yet also not enough, always leaving her wanting more. Now, with Nick, desire overwhelms her, coming from a place deep inside she didn’t know existed. Hungry and raw not just for his touch, but for everything behind it, the meaning he conveys with each insistent stroke, each tender caress.
She forces herself not to reach out to him, not to ask him to stay longer. Already a problem with his work, she can’t be the reason for more arguments, the cause of added danger because she distracts him. He lifts the covers, and she snuggles back in, smiling at his last nuzzle of her neck before the door closes behind him.
She wakes again. Clammy fingertips glide down her arm and over her curled hands. A hint of gasoline wafts around her as his body curves behind her. Something’s different, not quite right. Not his scent. Not his feel.
Not Nick.
Her eyes fly open.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
Gasping at Spencer’s voice, she tries to jerk away. Her legs tangle in the blankets, and his grip tightens, pressing her against him. Every muscle clenches, every nerve pulses with the fire roaring through her body. “Get off me!”
“You don’t like your surprise?”
He cups his hand over her mouth as she tries to scream. His fruity breath blows on her hair as her head twists side to side, her body arching off the bed, futile against his calloused fingers digging into her skin.
“Stop fighting me. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to ask you something.”
Tears prick her eyes, and she squeezes them shut, succumbing to the realization of her own stupidity. She knew it. All this time she thought something was wrong with him, and she didn’t say anything, couldn’t really accuse him of anything except stirring an overzealous imagination. Now, he’s in their bed, and there’s nothing she can do. Except try to talk him out of whatever he’s planning.
His smile greets her as she opens her eyes, panic surging from the maniacal look in his. She lays still and nods her head. After a minute, he lifts his hand, keeping it a few inches from her face as she gasps for air, filling her lungs, calming herself.
Feigning a composure she doesn’t possess, she attempts to reason with him as if he’s not a mad man, as if she’s not at his mercy. “You’d better go. I don’t want you to get in trouble. Nick would be furious to know you’re in here.”
“Sure, but not at me. If you tell him, I’ll say you invited me. Welcomed me into his bed while he was away, hard at work.”
Her stomach drops. He’s trying to blackmail her. Holding her fear of hurting Nick over her head to get what he wants. “He won’t believe you. He knows I love him and would never cheat on him.”
He frowns at her, his lower lip extended in an exaggerated pout. “Really? How does he know?” His mouth curls into a smirk before he winks at her. “You never tell him.”
He’s been spying on them. Listening to their private conversations, discovering her insecurities. And using them against her. Against Nick. Nausea washes over her. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I can.”
“Please leave me alone.” She tries to roll away, but his grip tightens, pulling her onto her back, leering down at her.
“Do you like whiskey?”
“What?”
