Page 51 of Spar
“Think he’d sell if I was?”
“For the right price, I think he’d sell his wife.”
“NowthatI’m not interested in.”
“Good to know you havesomestandards.” Tori stood, her empty plate in hand, shooting a look at Charlie.
“Ouch,” Charlie replied, but his eyes look amused as he smiled at Chris and winked.
“Sweetheart, stop packingand come over here. You’re making me exhausted just watching you. I have guys that will come pack everything and move it back if that’s what you want.”
“What do you mean, ‘if that’s what I want’? If you remember correctly, I never asked for you to move me in the first place.”
“Has it been so bad?” he asked gruffly, catching her by surprise as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.
He pressed up against her, and she gasped as she felt how hard he was.
“Horrible,” she whispered in a breathy voice. She pressed back against him, her body aching for more. It had been too long.
He ran his hands up and down from her shoulders to waist, brushing against her breasts with each pass.
“I should shower. I’m all gross from the humidity.”
He licked her neck, his warm tongue leaving a wet trail from her collarbone to her ear. “You taste clean enough to me.”
Tori squirmed in his arms, a half-hearted attempt to break free. “I’m serious. Give me five minutes.”
She squealed as he picked her up and carried her to the shower. He put her down inside the giant tiled enclosure and turned the water on, which blasted her with a warm pulsing stream. She looked down at her white shirt that had turned see-through. Her nipples were clearly visible through the fabric, and his eyes stared at them hungrily. “I can’t wait five minutes.” He moved his mouth to a peaked nipple, palming the other.
She cried out at his touch and lightly ran her fingernails over his abs. The water had drenched him, too, and his muscles were outlined by the shirt that clung to him. She’d never get tired of the way his body felt under her touch. Hard, strong, big. The words didn’t do him justice.
He pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it out of the shower. He went to work freeing her shorts next. He stared down at her with such intensity she forgot to breathe. God, she loved him, so much that it hurt to even think it. The words sat in her mouth, but she held them in. The timing was off. The situation was wrong. She didn’t want a sordid relationship with a man hidden behind closed doors. She wanted to be able to shout it from the rooftop and not have Ryan beat the shit out of Chris.
She forced herself to be present in the moment, not a tough task as she watched him tug his own pants and shirt off. His torso still showed some signs of the fight with bruising along one side. She leaned forward and kissed along the purplish black marks. She took her time, thoroughly giving her attention to every inch that had been hurt before moving lower.
He let out a guttural sound, and she smiled as she snuck a peek up at him. He was glorious. Head thrown back, eyes closed — perfection.
She slid her mouth over his length, flicking her tongue at the head. His hands ran through her hair, guiding her without too much pressure. She wrapped a hand around the base and squeezed gently as he coaxed her slowly at first and then faster as his breathing became uneven and ragged. She felt close to her own release as she watched him unravel before her.
He lifted her quickly and pressed her back up against the tile. The water continued to beat down on them from every side as she wrapped her arms and legs around him. She climaxed as soon as he filled her. He held her tightly, letting her come undone as he held her steady.
Tori was inthe closet pulling clothes from hangers and tossing them into a box that sat in the middle of the floor when Chris came out of the bathroom, towel slung loosely over his hips. He looked at the box and then the closet where her clothes had taken up a large section only minutes ago. “What’s going on in here?”
Tori threw another dress into the box. “Tomorrow is my last day off until next week. I need to get as much moved as possible.”
He moved between her and the box. “You know you don’t need to do that.”
“What are you saying?” she asked, turning to face him. She couldn’t read the troubled expression on his face.
He ran a hand through his wet hair, causing sprinkles of water to fall on his defined torso. “You could stay longer.”
Her heart leaped in her chest at the implication, but she held her ground. If he was asking her to move in with him, then she wanted to hear the words. “Longer?”
“Yeah. There’s no rush. Next week, next month…” He trailed off, breaking eye contact, and her heart dropped as she realized he was being kind, generous even, but he wasn’t asking what she had hoped.
“What’s the difference if I move tomorrow or next week?”
“The difference is I like you in my bed.”
