“Couldn’t tell,” Wyatt mutters dryly while Anthony and I giggle.
“This is the dining room.” There’s a large, rustic, oval dining table that seats ten around it. There are differently upholstered chairs there, all of which kind of match but don’t really. “Living room.” That’s a huge living area with chocolate, slouchy leather couches and a big gas fireplace sitting in the middle.
Wow.
“This is the guest bedroom.” He points to it as we walk into the hallway, and I stop in my tracks.
“Oh my God,” I gasp.
The whole length of the hallway is lined with black bookshelves filled with thousands of books. It’s a lot wider than a normal hallway, and it gives off the feel of a library. It even has one of those rails with a ladder going up to the top shelves.
“You do read?” I ask in surprise.
He smirks over his shoulder, grabbing my hand to lead me along. “I told you I did. I don’t lie, Lady Charlotte,” he teases. “My office.” He continues with the tour, and I peer inside to see an office with a large mahogany desk facing the door, a big high-back, black leather office chair sitting behind it.
“Laundry, gymnasium,” he says as he points to several rooms we walk by.
I peer in and see a large room with a treadmill, rowing machine and weights. A television is mounted on the wall.
I can hardly wipe the goofy smile from my face. I thought my hotel room was nice.
It has nothing on this place.
“Upstairs.” Spencer gestures as he continues to play tour guide. We all peer up to see a floating staircase that hangs out of the wall. The bannister is nothing more than a sheet of glass.
“This place is beautiful, Spence,” I tell him.
He smiles proudly and looks around. “I do love it.”
We all follow him up the stairs. “Spare rooms, bathrooms, and then at the end is my bedroom.”
We get to his room and I smile so wide that my face nearly splits in two. It’s a huge white bedroom with all different textured fabrics. There’s a king bed covered in white linen, white wingback chairs, a black and white charcoal artwork piece on the wall. The floors are a herringbone timber, too.
“Look around as much as you wish,” he says to the boys.
They walk past him and open the walk-in wardrobe doors, and then they go into the bathroom, leaving me to wrap my arms around Spencer’s waist and smile up at him.
“I like your house,” I beam.
He kisses me softly. “I like you.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Wyatt roll his eyes at Anthony, and I giggle. What must they think?
“Let yourself out, boys, we won’t be needing you again tonight.”
“Okay,” Anthony says before they disappear out of the door. “See you in the morning.”
“Thank you,” Spencer calls.
I would love to be a fly on the wall to see what they say when they’re in private.
“Alone at last.” Spencer smiles down at me before kissing me softly. His lips linger over mine and his tongue sweeps through my open mouth with just the right amount of force.
Dominant, caring… the man is as hot as hell.
“Well, Mr Jones.” I look around his room. “I did not expect this.”
“Expect what?”
“A house that looks like a Vogue home living shoot. You are full of surprises.”
“I’m an architect, what did you expect?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“I designed this building.”
My eyes widen. “You did?”
“Yes, and this apartment was always going to be mine.” His hands run down over my behind. “Just like you were.”
I frown up at him in question.
“You were always going to be mine, Charlotte.”
I giggle against his lips and I walk him backwards towards the bed until he stops me. “Not yet. I’m starving, woman.”
“Party pooper. What are we eating?”
“I’m cheating. I had my housekeeper pick up some Indian food for us. It’s in the fridge.”
“Sounds perfect.” He leads me back down the stairs and out into the kitchen, sitting me at one of the bench stools.
“Red or white?” he asks.
“White, please.”
I watch as he pours our wine and then hands me mine. We clink our glasses together and we smile stupidly at one other. “I like having you here,” he says.
“I like being here.” I reach up and drag him to me. We kiss and my eyes close to absorb every second of it. I really am pathetic when I’m around him.
He pulls out of our kiss. “Stop distracting me, I’m about to pass out from lack of sustenance. Do not kiss me again unless you have a defibrillator in your possession.”
I giggle. “Always so dramatic.”
He takes the Indian food out of the refrigerator and grabs a few saucepans.
“Why don’t you just microwave it?” I frown.
“You must be kidding. Have you ever had reheated Indian food that way?” He frowns.
“Many times.”
He rolls his eyes. “And here I was all this time thinking you were cultured.”
I giggle against my wineglass and watch on as he pours the food into the three saucepans.
“Have you thought about where you are going to live when you move to London?” he asks.
I shrug. “Not really. I guess I’ll have to start thinking soon, though.” I watch him for a moment. “What are your thoughts?”
He continues stirring. “I have a few.” He sips his wine. “The Spencer Jones in me wants you to get your own kickass apartment and decorate it however you want. To have your own things and come and go as you please.”
I smile and wait for him to go on.
“He wants you to gain your independence and live life without the restraints from your family.” He thinks for a moment. “I mean you should. That’s what you should do. That’s the smart thing to do.”
It’s clear he has something else on his mind, though. “And what do you want?” I ask.
His eyes find mine.
“That’s what Spencer Jones wants me to do,” I say. “What do you want me to do?” I ask. “The selfish little boy inside of you… what does he want?”
“Well…….” He pauses, his eyes hold mine as he decides whether to share. “The selfish little boy in me can’t stand the thought of spending even one night without you, and he wants you to move in here.”
15
Charlotte
What?
“I mean…” He shrugs as if embarrassed by my shocked reaction. “That’s only if you wanted to, and I’d completely understand if you didn’t.” He’s speaking way too fast, tripping over his words as he tries to recover.
I smile and remain silent as I watch him.
He continues to stir the pot, shaking his head as he thinks. “That was…” His voice trails off. “That was a bad idea, forget I said anything.”
“Spence?”
He keeps stirring with his head down, unable to look at me.
I get off the stool and walk around in front of him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Spence?”
His eyes meet mine.
“Why don’t we just see how we go?”
A frown creases his forehead. “What does that mean?”
“It means that we’ve been together for five minutes, and I think that maybe we should stop moving so fast.”
“You don’t like the way things are going?”
I kiss him softly. “I love the way things are going, but this isn’t a race.”
He holds me tight. “It feels like it is.”
I pull back to look at his face. “Why?”
He shrugs. “I’m waiting for the shoe to drop and everything to turn to shit.”
“Spence,” I breathe. “It’s not going to.”
“This is new for me, angel. All this.” He shrugs. “Feeling...”
I giggle. “You think this is new for you? Try being me for a moment. I’m getting used to having sex, falling in love, as well as an ex-girlfriend of yours who is slipping keys into your pocket.”
He smirks and pulls out of my arms. “Oh, I saw her today.”
My face falls. “You saw her today?”
“Yeah.” He goes back to stirring his pot of Indian food, choosing not to elaborate.
“And?” I frown.
“Long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
He dishes out our meals and places them on the counter in front of us. He refills our wineglasses, too, leaving me to just… watch him.
He sits down and begins to eat, as if he hasn’t a care in the world.
“Spencer! Are you going to tell me what happened or not?”