Page 65 of You Found Me (The Meadow Springs #1)

Emmaline

Not allowing Chance to ruin any more of my life, I refused to let Spencer cancel our joint Christmas.

Our moms have been having weekly calls since we planned this to discuss everything. Mom has kept it all pretty hush-hush, which is silly since I know our traditions and Spencer said they don’t really have any.

When our families arrived last night, Mom gave us each a gift bag and told us not to open it until bedtime.

I already know what’s in it: matching Christmas pajamas, fuzzy socks, PEZ dispensers, and candy canes.

It’s a fun part of my family’s holiday tradition and I love that she included the four of them in this.

After getting settled, we prepped the homemade lasagna for tomorrow.

I’m sure lasagna isn’t a typical Christmas lunch, but it’s something my mom started doing when she and Dad got together.

It explains where I get my love of pasta from, it just brings out all my happy memories.

Beckett seemed to enjoy watching someone else’s technique on making homemade noodles and sauce.

He even offered to make homemade cheesy garlic bread and none of us objected to that .

We all watched The Santa Clause after cleaning up.

And by all, I mean both of our dads passed out within the first half hour.

Mom and June laughed at how similar their husbands are—even with the age difference.

They’ve been getting along so well, and I think because June is used to having a younger sister, she’s treating my mom as though she’s her sister as well.

Heading back into the kitchen as the end credits roll, I start to grab everything I need from the pantry. Since I was old enough to use the oven, I’ve been the one to make our homemade cinnamon rolls. Mom said Edie taught her when she worked at the diner and then she taught me.

“I guess we shouldn’t have a food fight, huh?” Spencer asks with a smile.

Shaking my head, I tell him, “It’d probably be best if we didn’t. This is serious business. Before living with C—before moving away, I’d always make a tray for us, then one for the Callahans, and the Holts. Since I’m back in town, I thought I’d start that tradition again.”

He chuckles. “Definitely serious business then. Are we baking them tonight? It’s kinda late?”

“Nope. I need to let them proof overnight before baking them in the morning.”

“Then let’s get these in the fridge so I can take you upstairs and have my way with you in your childhood bedroom.”

I feel my eyes widen. “We can’t do that here!”

Spencer smirks. “I believe we did exactly that in my childhood bedroom.”

“But that was different.”

“How?” he laughs out.

“Because . . . I’ve never done anything in my room.”

Now it’s his turn to have wide eyes. “Really?”

“I was a virgin until my freshman year of college. And that was a quickie in the communal showers, so it wasn’t great.”

“How about,” he starts, then turns my body to face him, “instead of christening your bedroom, we christen your shower? Erase the awful memory from that pretty head and replace it with one that’s much better? ”

I don’t need a mirror to know my cheeks are bright red—I can feel the flush spreading down my face to my neck and chest. Rather than letting him get the best of me, I paint on a smirk. “Hmm. I’m not sure you could compare to that experience.”

Spencer chuckles. “I’m the only man who’s ever made you come.”

Well, he’s got me there and he knows it.

I don’t answer as I cover the dough, place them in the fridge, or even after I’ve washed my hands.

When I turn around, he’s still there, smirking enough that his stupid, hot dimple is peeking out.

“If you’re so sure you can erase that moment for me, prove it. ”

I watch as he registers my words, the moment of realization, as his eyes darken. “Get that sweet ass upstairs in the shower. Now. ”

I must wait a beat too long for Spencer’s liking because he gives me a swift smack on the butt.

His eyes sparkle at my yelp and I just know, this is going to be so good.

I make my way up the stairs quickly, yet quietly, with Spencer hot on my heels.

Once we’re in my room, I hear the snick of the lock as I walk into the adjoining bathroom.

Turning the shower on, I strip. Normally I’d tease him by slowly undressing, but I’m too turned on at the thought of finally getting a good shower sex memory.

I toss my hair up into a messy bun and step under the spray.

After a minute of washing myself with no Spencer, I turn to see him staring at me through the lightly fogged shower door.

And what I see pulls a hybrid gasp and moan from my lips.

Spence is completely naked, watching me lather myself up, and is roughly stroking his cock.

I feel my nipples pebble while the fire in my belly ignites, causing the slickness between my legs to increase.

Taking a breath to make it seem as though I’m not frothing at the mouth to get him inside of this shower and me, I ask, “I thought you were going to replace my memory, not prove it to be exactly the same?”

“I’m sorry, Buttercup. I was going to get in, but then you bent over, and I couldn’t control myself.”

“Well, come not control yourself in here with me. Otherwise, I’ll start and finish without you, Daredevil. ”

Spencer steps in the shower, lifts and pins me between his body and the wall before I can even blink.

The showerhead doesn’t reach this part of the shower, leaving it chilly and causing me to gasp.

Spencer smirks, placing a hand over my mouth.

“You’re going to have to be quiet if you want to do this without getting caught. Think you can do that for me?”

Since he doesn’t move his hand, I nod.

“Good girl.”

I moan, making him lightly laugh. “Guess I’ll be keeping my hand here, which means you need to hold on real tight so you don’t slip.

” Spencer uses the hand under my ass to hoist me up higher, making my boobs eye level for him.

He sucks one into his mouth, flicking my piercing.

Shamelessly, I start grinding against Spencer, trying to get some pressure on my aching clit.

Loudly popping off, he looks at me, his eyes almost devoid of all color. “Even with the water falling over us, I can feel how wet you already are. Are you just that greedy for my cock, Emmy?”

I whimper as I nod, not feeling the least bit embarrassed.

“Put it in for me,” my brows furrow in confusion, making him release a dark chuckle. “My hands are a little busy right now. Which means you need to wrap one of those hands around my cock and guide it into your sweet cunt.”

Having never heard him say cunt before now, I’ll admit, does something for me. It sounds dirtier than anything else I’ve ever had that part of me called. I do as he says—rather eagerly—and when I feel him notched just inside, I let go, moving my fingers to rub my clit as he slams into me.

“Fuck,” we say together, although mine is mumbled by his hand.

“You were made for me, Buttercup. Every single inch of you. I’m going to fuck the memory of other men out of your gorgeous mind any chance I get. And do you know why that is?”

Between every sentence, he’s thrusting, hard , so it takes me a minute to realize he asked a question. When I shake my head, Spencer halts his thrusts long enough to say, “Because I love you, Emmy and I plan to love you for a very long time.”

When he removes his hand, I speak, just loud enough for him to hear, “I love you, too, Spence. I’m forever your problem now. ”

I feel myself getting close and start adding more pressure to my clit while clawing into his shoulder with the other. “Just like that. Please , don’t stop,” I whine.

Spencer groans. “If I don’t slow down, this’ll be over too quick.”

I smirk. “It’s supposed to be a quickie. I want you to come with me—while you’re deep inside me.”

“Fuck.”

I decide to be bold, because the thought of talking dirty to him pushes me closer to orgasm. “You know you want to feel my tight, wet pussy, choking your cock as I come all over it.”

“Goddamn,” he grits out, putting his head over my shoulder against the cool tiles. His neck is exposed so I lean in, biting, as I fall over the edge.

With each spasm, Spencer pumps in and out of me, cursing under his breath. When his hips start to stutter, signaling his release, he kisses me as though he really can’t get enough of me.

And to be honest, I hope he never does.

***

After our shower, we both passed out rather fast.

So to get the cinnamon rolls baking on time, I got up early, leaving Spencer sound asleep in bed.

I hear shuffling around from upstairs, then the squeak of the second step from the top, signaling someone is coming down.

I’m throwing the last bit of homemade frosting on our pan of rolls when I hear, “You should’ve woken me up, I’d have helped you with this. ”

I turn, reaching up on my tiptoes to give him a kiss. “You’d have helped yourself to the icing. None would’ve ended up on these rolls.”

“Are we delivering the gooey treats?”

“Nope. When I told Mia about making them again, she volunteered to do it. She’s going to Theo’s for brunch with her parents anyway. She’ll grab hers and drop off the Holts’ to Lettie.”

He smirks. “So we should definitely wake B then?”

Before I can respond, I hear Beckett ask, “Wake me for what?”

I’m in the middle of covering the batches with plastic wrap, which is why I haven’t looked up at Beckett yet, but when Spencer spits his coffee on the floor and starts laughing, I turn. I’m not sure what I expected to see, but it wasn’t Beckett wearing matching pajamas that are two sizes too small.

Well, the top is too small—making him look like he’s wearing a cropped quarter sleeved shirt. His pants are smaller than what I feel like he’d normally wear, but at least they’re not straining too hard against him.

“Shut up, Jay.”

“Dude, I see way too much of you.”