“Want me to send her in?” Greg asked, the leering grin still on his face.
“Nah. I’ma come out and get her,” Spencer said.
Greg nodded his approval. “That’s right. Treat her like the lady she is.”
Ignoring the comment, Spencer headed out to the waiting area.
Ryann was standing, her back to him as she peered into the rec room. With the door ajar, Spencer could see that some of the men were in the middle of a therapeutic group. Spencer reached past her and pulled the door firmly shut.
Ryann spun round, a look of embarrassment crossing her features. Beneath her fair complexion, a pinkish hue rose.
“Those meetings are confidential,” Spencer explained. “Gives the men room to be open and honest about their struggles. You understand.”
Ryann gave a few quick nods. “Oh. Of course,” she said, her voice faltering a little.
“Want to come back to my office?” Spencer said, he extended an arm, indicating the direction she should head in.
And when she walked away, his eyes fell to her swaying backside. Ryann was a full-figured woman. Not fat by any means, but what young ‘uns liked to call “thick” with a small waist and pleasantly contrasting hips. At five-nine or so, she carried it well, with and without clothes, as Spencer recalled all too clearly.
Today, as always, the outfit complimented her figure, as did her higher-than-could-possibly-be-comfortable heels that accentuated her toned calves. A slender beige pencil-skirt and sleeveless peach-colored blouse added a creamy hue to her fair complexion.
“This one?” Ryann paused outside his office.
“Yeah,” he said nodding.
She went in and chose a chair facing his desk, settling in, crossing her legs at the ankle and immediately pulling a portfolio out of her large purse.
“Can I get you something?” Spencer asked, standing just over her shoulder. He smelled her perfume. This one reminded him of oranges. Ryann’s scents were as varied as her outfits. “Water, or coffee, or …?”
She turned and looked at him for a moment and then let her head fall to one side. “Is it like that now?” she said. “We’re acting like we’re strangers?”
“What d’you mean?” he asked coolly.
Ryann glanced toward his open office door and then lowered her voice. “By now I’d say you and me know each other really well. So let’s not act all stiff when we’re together. You were the same way when we went to see the movie. I know something … something happened between us, but now we’re past that. Now we’re all about business, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be …”
“That’s how you want it?” he asked, still standing over her. “All about business?”
“Don’t you?”
Unless he was mistaken, she wanted the answer to be ‘no.’ He went to shut the door and returned to sit in the chair next to her, instead of behind his desk as he normally might have done.
Ryann was looking at him expectantly.
“That wasn’t a rhetorical question?” he asked.
Her eyes narrowed. “No,” she said. “It wasn’t. Like anyone else, I like to know the … rules of engagement in every relationship. Be it for business or pleasure.”
“The rules of engagement,” he echoed, grinning at her and shaking his head. “That’s a term people use when they’re going to war. Is that what we gon’ do? Go to war, you and me?”
Ryann rolled her eyes. “Spencer …” she began.
He didn’t let her finish. He leaned in and kissed her, hand at the back of her neck and holding her in place. After a startled, frozen moment, she reciprocated, and then they were really going at it, hurrying past the preliminaries, and getting down to the real, sensual tongue-dueling dance of two people who had done much, much more than kiss in the past.
When he finally eased up, pulling back a little, Ryann captured his lower lip between her teeth for a second, lightly nipping it before they parted completely. It was as if she was chiding him for catching her off guard. Hand still at the back of her neck, Spencer smiled and shook his head. He knew when she called up his assistant to arrange a meeting that he wasn’t going to be able to get through it without doing this. But he’d planned to try.
He had lasted all of seven minutes before his resolve broke. This woman … she was going to be his ruination if he let her.
“Does that answer your question?” he asked.
“What question?” Ryann returned.
He grinned at her. “No, I don’t want it to be all business between us. But for today, for right now, let’s handle that and then talk about the rest afterwards.”
“Excellent plan.”
Ryann reached up and holding his wrist, removed the hand that was still at the back of her neck. Then she licked her lips, which made Spencer want to kiss her again. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms to keep his hands out of trouble. And there was plenty of trouble to be had, because he could see through her thin blouse that her nipples were hard.
“So, tell me what we’re meeting about,” he said.
“I wanted to pick up where we left off talking about getting Tone to donate to the Coalition. And by the way, when I was looking in on that group, it wasn’t just to hear people’s business, it was because I’m not sure I know what you all do here on a daily, so …”
“You’re on the board and you don’t know what we do?” Spencer teased. “You want to persuade some guy to give us half a million dollars and you don’t know what we do?”
Ryann’s face went pink again. Spencer didn’t think he had ever seen this bold and brash woman blush as much as she had in the past fifteen minutes.
“Of course I know what you do,” she said, shifting in her chair. “But in broad strokes. The details of the programming you offer, the services you provide, operational details, outcomes … no, I don’t have that level of knowledge.”
“I’ll tell you what you need to know.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Okay, so you have questions? Shoot. And what I can’t answer, I’ll bring Greg in to tell you.”
“No,” she said. “I mean …”
Spencer looked at her curiously.
“I think we need to sell him more than a program, or a project. We’re selling him a mission. Something that makes him see his donation as mission-driven philanthropy.”
“Okay?” He waited for her to go on.
“And I think the best way to do that is to have a narrative. An inspirational one. And usually, what that means is having a face to be the symbol of the work.”
“Well I founded it with Greg, so we can be the face if that’s what you need.”
“Yes, that’s fine, but I was thinking that it would be one person. It’s easier to …”
“Nah. I’m not doing it without my partner. If I have to be the face, he does too. We did everything together getting this place up and runnin’, so whatever happens, I ain’t rollin’ without Greg.”
Ryann nodded. She reached for her pen and opened her portfolio again, beginning to write on the yellow legal pad inside. “Understood. Since I’m going to be writing this proposal, I’ll need the story from you both. How’d you come up with the idea? Why? What made you want to do this work?”
Spencer nodded. “That’s a longer story than I have time for right now. But if I come over tonight, we can knock most of it out.”
Giving him a look, Ryann smiled. “Are you planning to bring Greg with you?” she asked sweetly.
“Hell nah. You can make an appointment with him later.”
Ryann laughed. “This is work, Spencer. Important work for us both. If you come over …”
“If I come over, what?” he asked.
“You know what,” she said.
He nodded, stifling a smile. “Okay, fair enough. But we’ll make sure we get the work done first. Deal?”
Ryann said nothing for a few beats, but finally, she nodded, and shut her portfolio once again.
“Work first, though, right?” he said.
Ryann walked up to him, standing close. She looked up. “I changed my mind about that,” she said. “If we take it in that order, I’ll be tense all evening. So maybe you can … relax me. Then we’ll work.”
She didn’t have to say it twice. Spencer leaned in to kiss her, tasting the sharpness of the red wine on her tongue. Reaching down, he grabbed her ass and pulled her up to her toes and against him. Still holding the wineglass clear, Ryann relinquished herself to the kiss.
Spencer felt her surrender in the looseness of her body, the softness of her lips as he pressed them open with his tongue, and the way she let her head fall back to expose her neck. Reading that cue, he kissed and licked her there, sucking her skin until she pulled away.
“Are you trying to give me a hickey?” she accused. “I mark easy. I can’t be walking into my business meetings with a …”
“Quiet,” he said, tugging aside the neck of her t-shirt and sucking on her shoulder instead. In the seconds just before he did, Spencer saw her smile. So that’s how they would be playing it tonight.
Sometimes, Ryann liked it when he was a little bit rough, a little bit brutal, even. In word and deed. She liked to be ordered around, moved around, told what to do and how to do it. In the bedroom, sometimes her imperiousness receded entirely. Each of their encounters had been different, so that Spencer never knew which Ryann he was going to get. Maybe that was what had him hooked.
“Put that glass down,” he told her now.
Ryann complied, resting it on an entryway table. Then she looked at him, like she was waiting for his next instruction.
“Take your tights off.”
Keeping her eyes on him, she did, stepping free of them once she had.
“The shirt, too.”
Pulling it over her head, Ryann let it fall. Now she was in her foyer, wearing only a pair of brief white panties. Her breasts were unfettered. Full and heavy, they had large, brownish-pink nipples. Looking at them made his mouth literally water.
“Open your legs,” Spencer said.
His voice sounded like it was stuck in his throat because he was so eager to have her. Controlling himself, so that he could give the illusion of controlling her, was harder than he would have thought, had he imagined this moment.
When Ryann widened her stance, he licked his lips and fell to his knees before her. It was uncomfortable on the hard tiles, but he couldn’t stop himself now if he tried. Face to face with her mons, he leaned in and swiped her, through the thin barrier of her underwear with the tip of his tongue. Ryann jerked forward and her hands touched the top of his head.
“No,” he said, looking up at her. “Don’t fuckin’ move till I tell you to.”
Ryann said nothing, but let her hands drop once again. From his position on the floor, he saw her chest heave and release. And he was beginning to smell her scent. That aroma, for primal reasons that no man would know how to explain, hastened his arousal. Spencer felt his jeans becoming tighter and less comfortable in the crotch.
Ignoring that, he went to work on Ryann anyway, licking and sucking her through the fabric of her panties. When she moved even an inch, he scolded her, and threatened to stop. And once or twice he did stop, while Ryann, standing over him, began to pant softly.
Finally, deciding to put them both out of their misery, Spencer held the sopping wet cloth, sliding two fingers beneath it at the crotch and pulled it away. Ryann gasped, but said nothing and tried to obey his command that she stand still. Now that she was completely naked, Spencer sat back on his haunches and looked at her. A few pearls of moisture were visible, and he reached out, smearing them with the tips of two fingers, looking up at Ryann and enjoying the expression of pained restraint on her face.
She was biting down hard on her lower lip, eyes shut tight, grimacing with the effort of standing still.
“You gon’ come for me?” he asked.
Ryann nodded wildly, and looked almost relieved.
“Only when I say.”
She nodded again.
“Okay … not now,” Spencer said, still stroking her.
Her eyes flew open and she looked down at him desperately, pleadingly.
“You’re only allowed to come if I’m inside you,” he said, leaning in again. Then he dipped his head and tasted her again.
“Spencer …” Ryann groaned between her labored breaths. “Please. Please …”
“No,” he lifted his head long enough to say.
She tasted so damn good. Sweet, but fresh. He wanted to cover his face with her scent. But as difficult as it was, if he wanted what he’d just told her he wanted, he would have to stop soon. Because she was close. He felt it in the tension of her thighs, heard it in the new high-pitched tenor of the sounds she made.
Forcing himself to his feet, Spencer almost took no notice of the sudden forward jerk of Ryann’s hips. As though, of its own volition, it was trying to follow the source of the pleasure. Roughly unfastening his jeans, he shoved it and his boxers down just far enough then reached for her, grabbing, and hoisting her upward, walking her back against the wall next to the front door.
After a few awkward moments of struggling to simultaneously hold her braced against the wall, pull a condom from his back pocket, and then rip open the foil with his teeth, Spencer put it on with one hand, and plunged deep inside her. His thighs were burning and trembling from the exertion, so he staggered with her still against him toward her living room, and lowered them both onto the sofa. Ryann locked her legs tighter around him and though he had barely gotten started, Spencer felt her coming.
Just when he told her to.
Next to Ryann, on her bed—they made it upstairs for the second round—Spencer felt a sleepy contentment of the kind that only came after good sex. But just as he was about to let his eyes close, he felt a sharp elbow in the ribs.
“Don’t fall asleep! We have work to do.”
Next to him, Ryann was sitting up, not bothering to pull the sheets up to cover her nakedness. In the times they’d been together, he had come to dig that about her. Even when completely buck-ass naked, she didn’t seem to have an ounce of self-consciousness about her body. And when she caught him staring, she was more apt to arch an eyebrow and give a mock pose to allow him to look for a few moments more than she was to cover herself.
“Let’s do it tomorrow,” he mumbled.
“Spencer, all you gotta do is talk. Just tell me the story of the Coalition and its founding and then you’re free to go.”
“Go?” he repeated. “Who said I wanted to go?”
“I don’t do sleepovers,” Ryann said. She was walking across the room now, apparently headed for the bathroom.
“I’ve slept over before,” he pointed out.
“And you were uninvited that time as well.”
“Leaving a lady alone right after some lovemaking. That’s just … uncivilized,” Spencer said, only half-joking.
He didn’t even understand why he was picking this fight. But Ryann’s reluctance to have him there was a novel experience, and perversely, only made him more determined to stay.
Pausing at the bathroom door, she turned to face him. Spencer tried to keep his focus on her face.
“Lovemaking?” she said, with a smirk. “Is that what you think we did?”
“Oh yeah, I definitely love your body,” he said sitting up, and leaning back against the headboard. “Every damn inch of it.”
One corner of Ryann’s lips lifted in half a smile. “Well if you ever want to touch it again, you’ll get your ass up so we can get this work done. I’m showering in here. You can take the guest bathroom and then meet me downstairs in twenty minutes.”
Then she went into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Moments later, Spencer heard the lock slip into place. Shaking his head in exasperation, he lowered his feet to the floor and went in search of the guest bathroom.
~9~
“You got nothin’ to eat?” Spencer asked scanning the contents of Ryann’s fridge. “Nothin’?”
“I told you, I don’t cook that much. Do I look domestic to you?” she demanded.
Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes scanned her, sitting there at her kitchen center island, wearing only a plush white terry robe, her hair brushed back, her face bare. With one leg crossed over the other, exposing both in the opening in her robe, what she looked, was sexy.
Tearing his eyes away, Spencer ducked into the refrigerator once again and pulled out a plastic container, with a clear but reddish liquid.
“What’s this?”
“Tom yum.”
“What?”
“Soup, Spencer. It’s soup.” She was looking down at her iPad now, typing something, her fingers moving rapidly across the small keyboard.
“How old is it?”
At that, Ryann looked up, her expression slightly sheepish. “It’s Thai soup. It came with the food you brought over that time, I think.”
Shaking his head, he opened the container and emptied it into her sink and turned on the trash disposal. “We need to order something,” he said. “Or I’m about to come over there and eat a piece of that leg you’re showing off.”
A smile she quickly suppressed crossed her lips, then Ryann waved vaguely in the direction of the kitchen cabinets to the left. “There’re a few takeout menus over there in one of those drawers.”
Finding one for Chinese delivery, Spencer ordered one each of a chicken, beef and seafood entrée, then sat across the center island from Ryann.
“I don’t know who you think is going to eat all that food,” she said.
“Don’t worry about that. Let’s get started.”
“You sure you’re ready?” she asked.
There was a relaxed, teasing note in her voice. That, and the intimate domesticity of him sitting in her kitchen, in just his jeans and undershirt made Spencer hopeful that they’d finally gotten past the BS. From now on, he hoped there would be no need to negotiate their way into each other’s bed.
The Lover Page 8