Page 82 of Serving the Couturier

The way Spencer’s family and staff treated me had been bothering me more than I’d let on, but it also made me excited to show off the house.

“This is my favorite room,” I said, leading him into the library. “When my great-grandfather bought Eidheann, this was one of the reception rooms, but my great-grandmother loved to read, so they converted it into a library. The original library was much smaller and next to the study on the first floor.”

Spencer let out a low whistle as he entered the room. I followed, feeling proud as I looked around. The library had high ceilings, with a beautiful chandelier in the center casting light on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining every wall. Each wall had a rolling ladder, allowing even the top shelves to be accessed.

“This isn’t mine,” I said to Spencer. “Technically, we’ll inherit my dad’s portion one day, but it’s always been understood that it belongs to the McCrae family, whether that’s blood, married in, or adopted. No petty squabbles to keep anyone from sharing it with future generations.”

I ended the tour in the tower bedroom, where I’d always loved to sleep as a kid.

As we came down the stairs, my cousins Carr and Konnor arrived. I hugged Carr, who’d gotten a haircut, and greeted Konnor. I introduced Spencer to them and the O’Malley twins, who were also a year older than me.

As I chatted with my cousins, I observed Spencer’s interactions with them. I had felt that he was trying to show me that his life in England was more important than our relationship, but now I wasn’t so sure. He had fired someone for being disrespectful to me and offered to take me away from his cold staff. He seemed eager to get to know my cousins and seemed to want them to like him, which felt more like someone who wanted to build a relationship, not end it.

Spencer impressed my cousins. They asked him questions, and he answered them with ease. They all had things to do, so before sunset, we said our goodbyes and promised to see each other soon.

Back in the kitchen, Spencer hugged me from behind and whispered, “That was fun.”

I agreed. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

Spencer placed a kiss on my neck and asked, “Do you know what else I’d enjoy?”

“I have a good idea,” I said, turning to face him.

“What are the chances of someone walking in on us?” he asked, his hand sliding under my shirt.

“Slim to none,” I replied, grateful that I had told Mrs. Chisolm that I’d clean up.

The hand not currently making its way up my torso pushed its way past the waistband of my jeans. Even as a finger ghosted over my clit, he cupped my breast, squeezing lightly before beginning to tease my hardening nipple through my bra. Closing my eyes, I gave myself over to sensation and pushed all thoughts of propriety away.

“After I make you come on my fingers,” his voice was low in my ear, “I’m going to put you up here on display and eat you out until you scream.”

“Fuck.” A shudder went through me.

“Then I want you on your knees, right here, sucking me off.” His fingers pressed harder against my clit. “Every time you’re in this kitchen, I want you to remember how I tasted.”

My fingers gripped the edge of the counter until my knuckles turned white.

“After that, we’re going to make some memories in our cottage, too.” He scraped his teeth along the back of my neck. “I have such plans for you.”

His words, as much as he was doing with his hands, sent me flying over the edge. His arms tightened around me, keeping me upright when my knees gave out. The feel of his body pressed against my back, the hard length of him impossible to ignore, grounded me, bringing me back to myself.

He nipped my earlobe and then whispered, “Ready for another go round?”

* * *

I’d toldhim I was ready, but in the hours that passed from when he asked the question, I’d learned that when it came to sex with Spencer,readywas a relative term. Despite all the amazing sex we’d had together, I hadn’t been prepared for tonight. Maybe I was right. This was one last hurrah before he sent me on my way, or maybe he had so much pressure built up inside him that he’d finally needed to release it. No matter the reason, I’d lost count of the times I’d come, and my legs still felt like jello as I made my way to the bathroom.

Spencer had fallen asleep as soon as we finished, and I lay there for a while, half-awake, before mustering the energy to get up. The call of nature was the only reason I got out of bed. Once I was done, I started searching the bathroom cabinet for toilet paper and suddenly stopped.

The box in front of me didn’t contain toilet paper, but tampons. My mother always made sure the staff kept all the bathrooms stocked in case someone had an emergency and didn’t want to drive to the nearest store in the middle of the night. I didn’t need them, but my mind did the math, anyway. I should have finished my period around the time we left New York, but I hadn’t even started. With everything going on, I’d lost track of time, but now the realization hit me hard.

I was late. Really late, and I never deviated more than a day from my cycle, especially since I started taking the pill.

Shit.

I tried to calm myself down. It must be stress, right? I was on the pill and we always used a condom.

But then I remembered the night during previews when we’d made up after a fight. I’d told Spencer we were safe because I was on the pill. And yesterday morning, I thought the count of my pills was a little off, as if I’d missed taking them once or twice.

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