“Mom!” was all Sophie could think to say. “Who’s getting married?”
Her mother blinked eyes that looked large and smoky. “Married? No one.”
“You just look like really, really gorgeous!” Sophie said, unable to bottle the awe in her tone.
Beneath her artificial blush, her mother’s cheeks darkened further. “Oh, this old thing?” She smoothed a hand over nonexistent wrinkles. “Thank you.”
“Where are you guys going?” she asked.
Her mother fiddled with the cute, black clutch purse in her hand. “Mark and Janice phoned earlier. They invited us to Mark’s Valentine’s Day party at his work. It’s at some snazzy hotel in Whistler Village.” A look of girly delight crossed her mother’s face. “You know how I love Whistler.”
As excited as Sophie was for her parents, she couldn’t help pointing out, “Whistler is like a two hour drive. What time is the party?”
Her mother’s gaze darted to the clock on the wall that read seven. “Eight.”
Eight. That sneaky devil! It all suddenly made sense what Spencer was up to. It took a great deal of effort to keep her grin off her face as she focused on what her mother was saying.
“We’ll be back a little after midnight. Do you think you’ll be all right alone?”
“Yeah, of course!” she said, trying to sound nonchalant, like she didn’t want to squeal and giggle. “I’ll read or something.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll stay home, do you understand? This is your chance to prove to your father that you are responsible and can take punishment like an adult.”
Not sure what Spencer’s plans were exactly and not wanting to lie, Sophie gave a small smile of understanding, neither a confirmation nor disagreement.
“Right?” her mother pressed, clearly not fooled by the smile alone.
Thankfully, her father hurried down the steps then, saving Sophie from having to agree to anything she may or may not have to break later.
“Dad!”
He looked dashing in his dark tux, his hair combed back and his face freshly shaven. He smoothed a hand down his front, looking bashful, but pleased. “Haven’t worn this old thing in years!”
“Mom might need to carry a weapon with her,” Sophie teased. “You’re going to have women hitting on you all night!”
Twin flags of pink darkened her father’s face, making Sophie and her mother laugh.
“All right you two.” He pushed his way to the door, looking thoroughly embarrassed. “Let’s go before it gets late.”
Still laughing, her mother turned to Sophie, touched her arm. “Lock and alarm the house while we’re gone.”
Agreeing, Sophie pushed them out of the house and watched as they hurried to her father’s SUV and pull out of the driveway. She shut the door and locked it. Spinning on her heels, she hurried to where her cell phone lay on the coffee table and texted Spencer.
“What R U planning?”
It took a little while before a response flashed on the screen. “U have 1/2 hour.”
Making a face at the screen, she tossed the phone on the sofa and bolted upstairs to shower and change. She was slipping the last pin into her hair, piling it in a messy knot at the back of her head, when the doorbell rang. The sound of it had her stomach rocketing up into her throat. She did a quick turn in front of the mirror, taking inventory of her red dress, her hair, her makeup and shoes. Everything looked in place and properly zipped up. She started to wipe her hands on the skirt of her dress before stopping herself. She snatched up her old towel she’d tossed on the floor after her shower and wiped the sweat from her palms. She tossed it carelessly behind the door before hurrying to answer.
“Coming!” she called, yanking open the door. “Sorry! I—” Her words died in her throat. They leaked from her tongue in incoherent garble. She stared, no longer trusting her eye’s ability to distinguish fantasy from reality. “Spencer?”
He stood tall and beautiful in a solid black tux that could have been sewn on to fit every perfect curve of him. His hair was swept off his face and combed to the side. In his hand, he held a single lily, a shade darker than her dress.
“You’re going to catch flies that way, Blondie,” he teased, nudging her chin.
She snapped her mouth shut, her cheeks mirroring the color of her dress. He stepped over the threshold, invading her personal space and seducing her with the subtle hint of spices and toothpaste. Gently, he shut the door behind him, sealing them in … alone. Sophie tried not to fidget.
“You look incredible, Sophie,” he murmured quietly, taking her in from head to toe in a manner that left very little doubt in her mind just how much he meant it.
She nervously smoothed down her skirt. “Thank you.”
He offered her the flower. “Jessie told me your dress was red,” he said. “I know most girls like roses, but you’re not most girls.”
She accepted the bloom with trembling fingers. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a red lily before.”
“It’s an Asiatic lily,” he said, then shrugged. “That’s what the lady at the floral boutique said.”
Sophie laughed. “It’s still beautiful. Thank you.” She went up on her toes, still frustratingly short despite her four inch heels, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I’ll get my jacket.”
“No jacket needed,” he said, stopping her before she could take off.
“No jacket?” She frowned. “I thought we were … ”
“Nope.” His arms snaked around her middle, drawing her into him. “We’re staying right here, just you and me.”
The idea of having him completely to herself, filled her with a flood of elation.
“Is that all right with you?” he asked, tipping his head slightly to the side.
Her arms wound around his shoulders. “Very all right!”
He smiled, letting his hands travel up her back. His smile slipped when his fingers grazed the stretch of skin not concealed by fabric. The tips glided experimentally up the column of her spine, following the ridges up to the strap and back down to where the skirt began. The slow caress drew a shiver from her that he couldn’t have missed.
He drew in a sharp breath and moistened his lips. “It looks so innocent from the front.”
Flustered and delighted by his response, Sophie giggled. “Do you like it?”
He chuckled weakly. “I think maybe a little too much.”
There wasn’t any loud music or flashing lights. There wasn’t a crowd of half drunken teenagers in the midst of copulating and her friends weren’t there, but it would always be one of Sophie’s favorite Valentine’s.
They cuddled on the sofa and flipped through channels. Spencer even opted to let her pick a cheesy romance. They spent most of the movie kissing anyway. Halfway in, they raided the kitchen. Spencer ditched his blazer and shoes and loosened the first two buttons on his dress shirt and rolled up the sleeves. Sophie kicked off her shoes and removed the pins from her hair, letting the tendrils fall in deep curls down her back. They laughed and joked as they tossed some leftovers together on two plates and popped them into the microwave. Spencer hoisted her up on the counter as they waited for the microwave to heat up their meals and kissed her.
“I have to tell you something,” Spencer said, pulling back. “I heard you the afternoon you talked to Jamie at school. I was coming out to meet you and … I heard everything.”
Sophie blinked. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugged. “I wanted to, but I was so confused. No girl has ever turned Jamie down, at least never the way you did.” He grinned a little. “I especially loved the part where you said you would always pick me.”
Warmth seeped into her cheeks. “I meant it.”
“I know.” He touched her jawline with a hooked finger. “That was the moment I knew I was completely gone over you.”
That explained the ravaging kiss on her sofa and the confession in his bedroom. She had been so worried about t
elling him that she hadn’t considered he’d overheard her.
“You should have told me,” she said.
He chuckled weakly. “I was still reeling with the image of you slapping Jamie down.” He kissed her. “You were so damn sexy. If you hadn’t taken off, I probably would have kissed you right there.”
With a smile, she wound her arms around his neck. “Kiss me now.”
With a growl and something that sounded suspiciously like gladly, he pressed his lips to hers, branding her with the heat of his kiss. His hands slipped beneath her skirt to rest comfortably on her bare hips. He jerked her closer to the lip of the counter and wedged himself between her knees. Sophie gasped, lifting her head to peer down into his face.
“We … we could come back for these,” she whispered, so nervous she shook with it.
Spencer didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He hefted her easily off the counter and into his arms. Sophie locked her legs around his waist as he stalked purposefully back to the sofa.
“My room,” she whispered, barely breathing, grateful her face was pressed in his neck.
Spencer faltered, coming to a rigid halt. “Sophie … ”
“I want to.” She bit her lip while she waited for him to respond.
Against her chest, his heart cracked loudly, matching the nervous flutter of hers. It tattooed his uncertainty and excitement and fears into hers, assuring her all the more that this was what she wanted.
“You called your dad today at lunch didn’t you?”
“Yes.” His voice was barely a whisper.
“You asked him to invite my parents to his party.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” She held her breath as she waited for him to respond.
“Because I wanted to be with you tonight and since your parents wouldn’t let you go I thought … ”
She exhaled slowly. “I want to be with you, too, Spencer.” She braced herself before adding. “I want it to be tonight.”
He hesitated a second longer before he was hurrying with her still in his arms up the stairs. He followed her directions to her room and crossed to her bed.
“I’ll stop,” he murmured, lowering her down on the mattress. “You just have to—”
She kissed him, silencing his words. Carefully, he moved on top of her, bracing his hands on either side of her head. For several long minutes, he just kissed her, their lips the only part of them touching. She was the one to reach for the buttons on his dress shirt. He seemed to still all over.
“Do you have anything?” she asked, trying to trace his face in the dark.
Thankfully, he understood what she meant. His gulp was audible. “No. I wasn’t expecting …”
Despite the situation and the awkwardness of it, Sophie giggled. “I think my parents do in their room. I’ll be right back.”
“Sophie.” He grabbed her arm before she could leave. “Are you sure about this? I swear I can wait.”
She kissed him. “I’m sure.”
It took a whole lot less time than she had expected to find what she was looking for and return to her room. Spencer was sitting on her bed, his hair no longer swept back, but a mess around his face as if he’d been rifling his hands through them. He’d unbuttoned his shirt and the sight of his chest made Sophie’s mouth water. But she controlled the animalistic urge to jump him.
“You okay?” she asked.
He laughed, short and shaky. “That’s my line, isn’t it?”
She went to him, leaving the door open in case her parents came home early; she’d be able to hear the front door open. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
His head came up, his gray eyes shining in the soft light from the streetlamp outside her window. “Not want to? I’ve wanted to since I first saw you! All I ever want is you, Sophie. And I don’t mean just like this. I want you. All of you. Trust me, not wanting you is not it.”
“What is it then?”
His hands found her hips. He drew her forward until she stood between his knees. She laid her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. He leaned forward and rested his brow against her belly. “I just don’t want you to regret it.”
She combed his hair gently before nudging his head back to peer into his eyes. “I won’t. I want this. I want you, Spencer.” She nibbled nervously on her bottom lip before putting shape to the words pressing against her tongue. “I … I love you.”
His eyes widened. He rose to his feet. “What?”
Her heart plummeted in her chest, so sure he was about to tell her he didn’t feel the same. “I’m sorry.”
He laughed, the sound hoarse with emotion. “You don’t tell a guy you love him and then apologize, witch! Do you mean it?”
She bit harder on her lip. “Yes!”
He pulled her in close, kissed her nose. “Good, because I love you, too, Sophie.”
She sniffled, nearly faint with relief. “Yeah?”
He smiled. “Yeah.”
“Even if I say I change my mind about sleeping with you right now?”
He chuckled. “You’re never getting rid of me, Blondie.”
“Good.” She nudged him down on the bed and stretched out over him. “Because I haven’t changed my mind.”
With a grin, he rolled her beneath him and kissed her. Neither heard the front door open downstairs or saw the shadow that crept into the doorway.
“Sophie?”
“Hmm?”
Warm lips kissed the curve of her shoulder, moving inward towards her shoulder blades. Fingertips glided down the curve of her back and slipped beneath the sheets draped over her.
“How are you feeling?” The lips paused at the nape of her neck.
Sophie smiled into the pillow. “Like I could sleep forever.”
The chest pressed into her side shook with silent laughter. “I didn’t hurt you?”
Not wanting to, already so comfy and warm, Sophie forced herself to roll onto her other side to face Spencer. She smiled up at him. “It was great.”
His lips curved. He kissed her lightly. “Love you.”
Sophie felt her heart flip in her chest. “Love you, too.”
He drew back. “I’ll be right back.”
With a kiss to her nose, he slipped out of bed, drew on his boxers, and padded quietly to the bathroom. Sophie smiled as the door closed behind him.
It hadn’t been magical, some life shattering script out of her mother’s romance novels, but it had been magical to her. Spencer had been so kind and gentle, so careful not to hurt or scare her. He’d held her so close through every moment, whispering over and over how much he loved her, that it was impossible to feel anything but him surrounding every part of her. Had there ever been a second of doubt that she was making the wrong decision, lying there, enfolded in his scent and the warmth left behind from his body, feeling content and happy and so filled with love, would have squashed it quickly.
She was still grinning like a lunatic when the bathroom door opened and Spencer emerged. He crossed back to the bed.
“Miss me, Blondie?” he teased when she quickly made room to let him back in.
But instead of slipping in beside her, he stretched over her, bracing himself with his forearms on either side of her head. His lips fit perfectly over hers. Sophie wasted no time winding her arms around his ribs and pushing him down until he was fully pressed on top of her. She smiled when he nudged her nose with his playfully.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
She shook her head, eyelids already drooping. “Tired.”
He began shifting his weight off her, moving towards the space at her side, his face buried in the curve of her neck. Sophie turned her head, prepared to turn her whole body in that direction when something flickered at the corner of her eye.
The movement was quick, the sway of some wayward shadow being chased by light. For a split second, she considered it being headlights from a car pulling through the cul-de-sac, but the world outside the window was
still. There was no sound but the quiet rustle of sheets and their breathing.
Spencer ceased his efforts when she stiffened beneath him and began to sit up. “Sophie?” He turned his head in the direction she was watching, the shadow painted corner between her closet and dresser. “What is it?”
She opened her mouth to tell him when it began to expand, stretching and growing as if all the darkness in the room was beginning to pool into that corner. It became deformed, a misshapen lump without a face. Sophie’s mouth opened, a scream on her tongue when it lunged. Something streaked, a flash of light cutting over razor sharp steel.
“Spencer!” She shoved him, catching him off guard as he tumbled out of harm’s way. In the distance, she heard her name shouted by him as the curved blade swooped down on her.
She was only vaguely aware of Spencer’s snarl or his body flying over her and slamming into the shadow. There was a thud as two bodies hit the floor. Grunts and groans wailed around her, battling with the voice willing her to get up.
Unnaturally cold, her fingers trembled as they sought to find why her side was on fire and why there was suddenly hot liquid oozing under her. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she knew, but the possibility was just so … wrong. Her fingers came up against something sticky pouring through the gash soaking her sheets. It took her brain a whole lot longer to put the pieces together.
She’d been stabbed.
“Sophie!” Spencer’s frantic shouts of her name poured through the cracks of numbness. “Sophie, Run!”
He was on his back, the shadow sitting on top of him, arms raised over his head as if he were praying. It looked odd for a moment before she realized his arms were there because Spencer was holding them there, protecting himself from being the knife glinting in the spikes of pale light slicing through the window.
“No!” she croaked, twisting onto her side, ignoring the tearing sensation, she snatched up her lamp and hurled it. It struck the shadow in the back of the head, giving Spencer just enough of a chance to overpower him.
But something changed. It was too fast for Sophie to grasp. Spencer had him. They were doubled over with Spencer stretched over the shadow’s back, Spencer’s arms wound tight around it from behind. The blade seemingly appeared out of nowhere. It was there and thrusting upwards before Sophie could even utter a cry. The sickening squish of tearing flesh split the night. Sophie might have screamed. It was ringing in her ears, louder and louder as Spencer slid off the shadow’s back and crumpled to the ground in a pale heap.
Games of Fire Page 41