Page 53 of I Hate You More

“Careful breathing. Thoughts of open wounds. A faked phone call from Lawson in case I needed immediate extraction.”

With each detail of his plan, Spencer opened a button of her dress. The fourth revealed the neat nip of her waist. The fifth exposed her navel, which formed a perfect circle in the center of her belly. By the time he reached the sixth, he was fully erect and able to count the beat of his pulse by how hard he ached.

“I thought only women did that,” she said, gasping a little as he slid a finger underneath the waistband of her panties. “Faked phone calls to get out of unpleasant dates, I mean.”

“I wasn’t going to fake it to get out of unpleasantness,” he protested. “It was to save myself.”

Ruby’s underwear might have been made of serviceable and breathable cotton, but her skin was pure silk—and the further down her body he went, the smoother it became. He’d just reached the juncture of her thighs when she asked, “Save yourself from what?”

As if he needed to say. The moment his fingers reached what they sought—the warm, slick heat of her—they both knew the answer to that question.

This touch. That pressure. The glory of feeling her squirm underneath him.

“I can’t resist anymore, Ruby,” he said as he gave her dress a yank and felt the rest of the buttons give way. “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t exactly sure what he was apologizing for unless it was the speed with which he pushed her dress aside and removed her panties. As much fun as it had been to make a game of undressing her, the delay was starting to cause a serious strain. He waited only until she’d managed to wriggle her legs free before sliding a hand underneath her hips. She released a sound somewhere between a sigh and a squeal as he planted a kiss on the gentle swell of her lower belly. That sound became much closer to a moan as he kissed her again, further down this time, the damp heat of her clinging to his lips.

Her legs fell open to give him better access. She was all languid limbs and undulating calm, which was why, when he felt a strong grip take hold of his hair, he could only chuckle. As he made a tentative foray between Ruby’s legs, kissing her upper thighs and nuzzling at her mons, she grew rapidly more impatient. The movements of her body demanded that he sample her more thoroughly, her fingers weaving through the strands of his hair and refusing to let go.

“I swear on everything you love, Spencer, if you don’t stop taunting me like this, I’m going to give you the most agonizing blow job of your life. Don’t think I won’t. After all my experience standing perfectly still on a stage, I can makeanythinglast for hours.”

That made him laugh too. “Not that, I’m afraid. If your lips come anywhere near me, I’ll last three seconds, tops. There’s no way you could stretch that out.”

Something about the words being uttered so near to her clit caused a gasp to escape her. Intrigued—and held firmly in place—Spencer gave himself over to the task of seeing what else he could do. That age-old standard, reciting the alphabet, received enthusiastic approval, but not nearly as much as a lightly blown breath alternating with deep, penetrating tastes of her. He adjusted his position slightly, using the leverage of his arm to pull her hips more flush against his face. This caused the grip on his hair to become so intense that he had to wonder what sort of exercises she was doing in her spare time.

All that hair-pulling probably hurt, but he was having a difficult time telling the difference between pleasure and pain as he continued sampling her body with his lips and tongue and even his teeth. The closer he drew to her clit, the more her movements became pleading and frantic—a sensation that was echoed in the tight thrum of his own groin. Unsure whether it was her desire or his that caused him to focus all his energy, he lightly flicked his tongue against her clit until all other thoughts and sensations faded into the background.

He could tell when she came before she did. The tight clenching and unclenching of her body against his lips gave her away.

As the orgasm rocked over her, she bucked and cried out for about two seconds before turning her head into a pillow to mute the sound. Even that inflamed his already scorching desire, especially when she followed it up with a low chuckle.

“I can see why Eva and her husband were so eager for a weekend away,” she said. “That was a scream-worthy performance, Spencer. I’m sorry I couldn’t go all in.”

Scream-worthy? He wasn’t sure anyone had said that about him before. Pride puffed his chest and swelled his erection.

“I aim to please,” he said. He pulled his arm out from underneath her, but she reached for him before he could fully separate.

“You’ll see what I mean in about thirty seconds. It’s a lot harder to keep quiet than you think. Pants down, my friend.” She licked her lips in anticipation. “I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks.”

She reached for the buckle of his belt, but he pulled away before she could make contact. Her smile dimmed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “What did I say?”

He shook his head, unable at first to give voice to what he was feeling. A large part of his current thought process was taken up with the desire that refused to abate, a hot, insistent pounding that made it difficult for his thoughts to coalesce into coherency. What was left was busy trying to articulate his feelings.

Because feelings were exactly it. He and Ruby had been playing games for a while now, pushing and pulling in what was rapidly becoming his favorite pastime. It would be all too easy to continue that right now, each of them seeing how fast they could make the other come, torturing each other with teeth and tongues and touch.

That sounded nice—it soundedwonderful, actually—but that wasn’t fair to either of them. He liked Ruby. He felt things for her that he’d never felt for anyone. He wanted to shake her and kiss her and get the better of her. He wanted to hold her in his arms and make her laugh. He wanted to talk to her about Caleb again and hear her opinion on what he should do next. Her view of the world was wholly unique—cynical yet optimistic, hard-earned wisdom and a true love of humanity rolled into one.

That kind of feeling wasn’t a quick blow job in someone else’s living room. That kind of feeling deserved more.

“There’s a guest room at the end of the hallway,” he said, holding out a hand to her. “I stay there sometimes when Eva and I have to work late. Will you come with me?”

She took his hand with narrowed eyes. “Why? What’s back there?”

“A bed. Pillows. A door that locks.” He squeezed as her fingers threaded through his. Even though this next part was difficult to say, he forced himself to do it. As his earlier attempt at discussing masturbation had proven, he’d never be like the man in one of Ruby’s erotica novels, swaggering with confidence and spitting out four-letter words for female anatomy.

Hecouldbe like the man in one of her romance novels, though.