Page 40 of Choosing Hope

He rolls his eyes. “Can I use yours for ten minutes? I was right in the middle of ordering everything for Lily’s party.”

“Ugh. Can’t you do it on your phone or iPad?”

“Please Spence. It’s hard to see on my phone, and I’m not sure where my iPad is. It won’t take me long, I promise.”

To help distract him, I allow my gaze to travel down his body again, making it clear I’m checking him out.

“You need to get dressed before you start work anyway. I’ll finish before you’re ready,” I purr, licking my lips.

“You need my face to gain access,” he explains.

Jesus, what’s he hiding in there?

“Oh.”

I drop my shoulders in defeat.

“Why is everything to do with this party so fucking difficult?” I huff. “Next year, I’m employing a planner.”

He tilts his head, studying me, his expression is a clear indicator that I’ve already won this minor battle. The knowledge makes it hard to keep a straight face.

“Alright, come on, I’ll open it for you, but I need it back in twenty minutes. I’ve got a call at ten o’clock.”

“Thank you, darling,” I exclaim, smacking my hands together in an excitable girly way, aware it will amuse him. “I’d kiss you if you weren’t so sweaty.”

Like I’d flipped a switch; he crowds me playfully, forcing me to step back from him to avoid his moist skin.

He doesn’t stop advancing until I’m caged against my ballet barre.

His proximity sends a shiver of desire down my back. No matter what he’s doing, I can’t deny that Spencer still captivates me like no man I’ve ever met.

“I remember a time, not so long ago, when my sweaty state would have turned you on rather than off.” His deep voice growls.

I giggle and bob my eyebrows, allowing myself to be swept along with his playful distraction. I’ve missed these moments of passion.

“I may have been persuaded if you hadn’t set such a tight schedule for me,” I retort.

“Is that so?” The tip of his nose trails along my jaw, as if he’s sniffing me.

“You said you only needed ten minutes, yet I gave you twenty,” he reminds me.

Our familiar playfulness makes it almost impossible for either of us to conceal our smirks.

Spencer’s complete focus, solely on me, always makes my heart race. But seeing him pumped up from his workout, his muscles straining under his taut skin, as he leans over me, is causing my pulse to race uncontrollably. The urgency of my mission and time restrictions fade away, distracted by the familiar sea of lust.

I peer down at his tight-fitting shorts, delighted to see our interaction is stimulating him just as much as me.

“Come and take a shower with me?” he commands.

Spencer doesn’t ask; he orders, unused to women saying no to him these days. I’m certain that I captured his interest when we first met because I pushed back. Testing him.

“No.” I spin around, lifting my dress to flash my bottom, “but I reckon I’ve got time for a quickie.” I tease bending over, and pressing my bottom into his hardness, certain he won’t resist.

A positive noise escapes his throat; “I love being married to such a slut.”

The smile in his words elevates my lust, and as he peels down my panties, my body is readying itself for his intrusion.

“Hold on to the bar. This is going to be fast and hard.”