Amber Nights - The Esquire Girls Series - Amber's Story (Books 1, 2, 3 & 4) - Box Set

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  “No, not at all,” Spencer says moving aside for her to step over the threshold. “We were actually just waiting for pizza.”

  “Bambi, you didn’t tell me you were seeing someone so hot,” Emery says to me as she steps gingerly into my apartment dropping her umbrella near the door. She tosses a giddy glance at Spencer from over her shoulder.

  “Bambi?” Spencer questions as his eyes dart towards me, both brows inched up towards his hairline.

  I’m so annoyed right now.

  That’s when the pizza guy appears in the hallway. Spencer busies himself paying for the food.

  “Emmy, what are you doing here?” I whisper tugging her into the kitchen.

  “Edie says she forgot Dylan’s thermometer in your bathroom on Sunday.” She’s talking to me but her eyes are peeled to Spencer in the hallway. “By the way, holy hotness! Edie said you were seeing someone. I expected it to be another loser but this guy’s a 10! Where the hell did you find him?”

  I turn red and my cheeks are ablaze. “Let me go get the thermometer.” Before she can get another word in, I’m off to the bathroom to find the thermometer and then get my little sister the hell out of here.

  I had to search around for it before finding it wedged between my bathtub and small vanity table. When I return to the kitchen, mere moments later, I find Spencer and Emery laughing and eating pizza and taking selfies.

  I shove the thermometer at her. “Okay. Here it is. Bye.” I say yanking her arm softly and guiding her towards the door. “And next time, call first before just popping by.”

  “I did call – your phone is off.” She groans, disappointed that I’m kicking her out. “Bye, Spencer,” she says in a sing-song voice as I usher her to the front door. “Mom would love this one,” she whispers to me as she shoves a tomato-sauce-drenched mushroom into her mouth.

  I grimace hard as I push her umbrella at her. I intend to keep my mother away from Spencer for as long as feasible.

  When I shut the door, I turn back to find Spencer leaning against the fridge looking pensive. “I should introduce you to my mom and little sister,” he says. That’s the first I’ve heard of his family. Up till now, I had implicitly believed that Spencer had been dropped off by a stork at birth.

  I smile at the thought of meeting his family.

  We both take a seat at the table. I pull a mozzarella stick from the mess of brown paper bags and food cartons and boxes on the table as Spencer sits brooding opposite me. “I want you to know that I’m serious about you, Amber,” he says reaching for my hand.

  “I know,” I say in a small voice.

  “Even if I may not be able to give you everything all at once – I’m still serious about you.” Understanding washes over me. In my mind, I fill in the spaces between his words. His pain over the death of his wife is still just beneath the surface. We don’t talk about it every day. But it’s still just beneath the surface. There are levels of intimacy that he and I can’t touch yet because his pain is still raw. But we’re working towards it every day. Every moment that we’re together. He can’t give up the condoms yet. He’s not ready. And it’s not because he doesn’t trust me. It’s just that…he’s not ready.

  Chapter 7

  “Is the traffic always that bad in this part of town?” I say to Nadia over my shoulder as we stumble out of the taxi and onto the busy sidewalk outside of the vintage-styled theater. The sea of lights flooding the sky and the thick crowd buzzing near the entrance cause a pang of excitement to course through me. I smooth down the hopelessly-wrinkled skirt of my exorbitantly-expensive, poufy, knee-length dress, before combing my fingers through my dark bangs. The humidity of New York’s July is causing my skin to glisten and my hair to misbehave but all that is irrelevant next to the thrilling anticipation that I feel.

  “Huh?” Nadia says distractedly as her finger swipes across the face of her smartphone. “Jersey Boys – That’s what we’re seeing, right?”

  Hailey follows us gingerly, wobbling in her floor-length maxi dress and four-inch stilettos. “You should have brought a sweater,” she says, tossing a cardigan over her shoulders before looping her arm through mine to keep her balance as we approach the doors of the theatre.

  “Are you sure you should have worn that long dress with heels?” I whisper into Hailey’s ear glancing over at Nadia’s dark jeans and frilly chiffon top. It’s our first-time at a Broadway show so, none of us really know what to expect or what to wear.

  “You’re late!” I look up to find Madison Moretti weaving through the throngs of theater-goers. Annoyance lines her pretty face making her eyes narrow and her lips tight. Still, she looks exquisite and classy in a light knee-length coat over her midnight blue silk wrap dress, a set of pearls draped around her neck. She digs into her sequined clutch and shoves three tickets in our direction. Before I can say ‘thanks’, she’s already pirouetted on her heels and sauntered back over to Matt, Chase and Domenic who are standing with a few of the firms junior associates some ways off. Matt glares at me as usual. Chase ignores us but Domenic waves at us with his warm, lopsided smile before following the others into the building.

  They had all had dinner at a piano bar on 9th Street before the show but since Hailey, Nadia and I were stuck doing research for one of the partners, we ended up missing dinner. We’re lucky, though, because Luke and Ruthie are up to their ears in work, helping a third-year associate with trial prep, so they won’t make it to any part of this incredible evening.

  This amazing night on Broadway is only one of the many firm-sponsored activities organized by Cartwright Moretti Stevenson for its junior lawyers and summer associates. The gratuitous wining and dining is one of my favorite parts of the job. I’m particularly enjoying Jersey Boys, though. It’s a heart-warming rags-to-riches story and I get goosebumps when the actor playing Frankie Valli does his solos. I glance over and see Hailey wiping tears from her eyes during many of the more emotional scenes.

  After the show, I walk a few blocks with Nadia and Hailey discussing the play animatedly before ducking into the subway station on 50th Street. I ride the train back to Brooklyn alone. When, I finally emerge from the train station nearly 45 minutes later, I pull out my phone to call Spencer as I walk briskly to my apartment.

  I stop dead in my tracks when I’m halfway down the block to my apartment.

  That’s my bed frame!

  And my mattress!

  Perked against a tree next to a pile of black garbage bags on the sidewalk outside of my apartment.

  #WTF

  Did Oksana kick me out? Did we get evicted? A million scary, scary thoughts race through my mind.

  I drop my phone into my bag and run up the block as fast as my four inch wedge heels will allow. I take on the stairs two at a time and barrel down the hallway to my apartment. With my hands trembling, I slip my key into the lock and push the door open. The apartment is quiet. Oksana isn’t home.

  The dim light emanating from the streetlight shining into our living room allows me observe that everything looks the same as I left it this morning. Still, my heart is pounding as I approach my bedroom cautiously.

  I nudge my bedroom door open and shut my eyes tight as I flick the light switch on.

  “Hey,” a warm, groggy voice fills the room.

  I ease my eyes open and find Spencer lying naked in a queen-sized bed in the corner of my room.

  Chapter 8

  “Ohmygod, Spencer. You almost give me a heart attack,” I say, gripping my chest as I fight to regulate my breathing.

  “What?” he asks innocently, rubbing his eyes with his fists as he sits up. He yawns and stretches, exaggerating the sexy contours of his arms and torso. I love it when his golden brown hair is disheveled like that…sigh.

  “You – I – I was walking up the block and I saw my mattress on the sidewalk – I thought Oksana had kicked me out – I almost died.”

  “No, silly. I got you a new bed.” He’s grinning proudly. “It’s way more comfortable than
the one you had before. You could barely fit in that old thing, let alone the two of us. I wanted to get a king-sized but your room is too small... Come test it out.” He sits on the edge of the bed with his legs dangling off. He places his palms flat on either side of him and bounces just a bit to showcase the sturdiness of the mattress.

  I giggle and sit next to him. I bounce up and down on the mattress to test it out. “Ooh. Firm,” I coo.

  “Nice, huh?” He’s smiling. The curtains behind him sway lightly as the warm air flowing in through the open window coaxes them back and forth.

  “Yes. Thanks so much, Spencer,” I smile up into his face before bringing my lips to his. “I almost feel like it’s too beautiful for this shitty apartment,” I say running my fingers along the dark wooden bedpost.

  He looks pensive for a moment. “I was actually thinking, it would be great if you lived in Manhattan. I mean, you work at Union Square, I live in Tribeca, your friends from work live…”

  “Midtown…” I offer.

  “You’re all the way out here in Brooklyn –“ he lowers his voice “—with your crazy-ass roommate.”

  His reference to Oksana makes me giggle.

  “Seriously, if you had your way…wouldn’t you live in Manhattan?” He runs his lips along my temple with a tenderness that makes me quiver.

  “I guess I would…” I say timidly bracing myself for the invitation I’d secretly daydreamed about since the day I first stepped into Spencer’s Tribeca penthouse. I’d imagined us there together – having breakfast on his terrace with that panoramic view of the Hudson River, making love as the moonlight streams in through his floor-to-ceiling windows, cooking together in his spacious kitchen.

  Spencer’s voice pierces through my fantasy. “I can make it happen – all you have to do is say the word. What’s the use of dating a real estate tycoon if you can’t get your own condo with a view?” He tickles my ribs lightly.

  “My own condo?” I say the words in disbelief.

  He nudges me excitedly with his shoulder. “Of course you can get your own condo. I have something really nice about five blocks from your office. Can you imagine how convenient that would be? No more getting up at the crack of dawn to get to work. And the views of the city are spectacular. You can move in by next week. It would be perfect.” He’s almost bursting with eagerness.

  I try to feign a smile that mirrors his enthusiasm although disappointment is clawing away at me on the inside.

  Yes, being offered a free Manhattan condo of my own is great, but in reality, what I really wanted was for Spencer to ask me to move in with him. The fact that he didn’t make such an offer stings. The rejection penetrates my bones. How could he not ask me to move in? How? I live for the nights I spend wrapped in his arms.

  I constantly have to remind myself that Spencer suffered an atrocious loss when Chloe and their baby died. I have to remind myself that it’s normal that he would want to take it slow. That what I interpret as him shutting me out is merely a protection mechanism and not a reflection of how deeply he feels for me.

  I try to stifle my feelings and put on a brave face. “Thank you, Spencer. That would mean a lot to me.”

  “It’s settled then. I’ll make some calls tomorrow to have everything set up for you and you can move in next week.” He throws me a delicious smile before brushing his lips across the palm of my hand. “You look phenomenal in that dress, by the way,” he whispers against my mouth. I smile and suck on his lips. He’s quick to intensify the kiss and before I know it, he’s on top of me, undoing the waistband of my dress. “So, are we gonna christen this bed or what?” He smiles onto my lips.

  “My period…” I whisper.

  He groans lightly before rolling off of me. “I’ll be going to Montreal tomorrow afternoon to close the rehab center deal. Won’t be back till Friday night. I was hoping I could make love to you tonight. It feels like it’s been so long.”

  “I know,” I say grimacing. I turn to him tentatively. “But maybe I can take care of you anyway.”

  His eyes light up as he gazes over at me. “How?”

  “You know how.” I throw him a sexy smile as I lower myself to my knees.

  “You’ve never…you don’t…I didn’t think you wanted to,” he says in that bedroom voice I love.

  “Oh…I want to…” There’s a wicked pitch to my voice that I barely recognize.

  I position myself between his thighs. I reach for his semi-erect cock and it virtually springs to life under my light touch. I look up into his face as I stroke him softly. Hungry anticipation is glowing in his gorgeous eyes. I flick my tongue tentatively across the tip and taste the warm pre-cum already seeping out to greet me. This only excites me. My nipples harden instantly.

  “Amber…Suck it,” he pants impatiently.

  I toss a sly grin at him as I continue to tease him with the tip of my tongue.

  He throws his head back and begs me again. “Suck it…Amber…Goddammit…Suck it.”

  He won’t boss me around tonight. I’m the one in charge.

  “Look at me,” I command. When he brings his eyes to mine, I take him into my mouth with one fluid motion, sliding the tip all the way to the back of my throat. He growls as he throws his head back once again and tugs on my dark ponytail. I slide him out of my mouth. “I said, look at me, Spencer.”

  His eyes meet mine again and I can see that it won’t be long until the pleasure overwhelms him completely.

  I run my lips slowly up and down the length of his shaft, increasing the tempo gradually. Tiny bursts of his nectar seep onto my tongue as he becomes more and more excited. I run my hand down his firm, rippled torso as I bob my head up and down in his lap, focused solely on his pleasure. I reach between his legs and stroke his balls with my fingers. “Shit…Shit…Fuck, Amber…Yes.”

  Now, he’s thrusting into my mouth, holding my head firmly in place. Groans escape from a place deep within me as he works himself into my mouth. He pumps into me faster and faster and more wanton with each stroke until his body becomes rigid.

  “Move back, Amber. I’m gonna come,” he warns. But before I have time to react, he’s erupted along my left cheek, down my neck and across the collar of my fancy theatre dress.

  I look up at him. He looks down at me.

  And we both explode into laughter.

  Chapter 9

  I take a deep, measured breath to steady myself before I press the green button.

  “Hi mom,” I say with as much gusto as I can fake. My voice ends up sounding like one of those overly enthusiastic puppets on an early-morning children’s television show.

  “Bammmmbbbiiiiiiii…”

  Oh god – she’s drunk. I glance over at the clock hanging on the wall opposite my cubicle. It’s 10:25 a.m.

  “How are ya, mom?” I say, trying to keep my tone even so as not to tip off my cubicle-mates as to my mother’s inebriated state.

  “Bambi, Emmy showed me a picture…of your new boyfriend,” her slurred words bump clumsily into each other on their way out of her mouth.

  “Oh,” is all I say as I shuffle through a manila folder looking for the documents that Spencer will need to take to Montreal to seal the rehab center deal. My mom has never really liked any of my boyfriends. Frankly, I think she always felt offended that they’ve chosen me over her.

  “He. Is. Hot.” my mother proclaims. I hear a blunt thud in the background and imagine her slamming her half-empty beer bottle down onto the laminate counter in the kitchen of our family’s small bungalow 300 miles away from me.

  “Thanks, mom.” I slip the documents into a large white envelope with the firm’s logo etched into the top left corner.

  I prepare to direct the conversation to a dignified end. I have to get back to work, but my mother speaks again. “There’s something about him, though,” she says, “I can’t quite put my finger on it…but there’s something about him that’s just not right.”

  Here we go. “Drunk Mama Knows Best”,
take 82.

  “You need to be careful with that man, Amber. Something about him isn’t right. Where did you meet him anyway? He looks familiar for some reason.” Now, she’s just rambling on.

  I look up from my desk and see Ms. Harvey staring down at me. “Look, mom. I’ve gotta go. I’m at work,” I say into the receiver.

  “Fine, Bambi. But just remember – Be careful with that guy,” she chides.

  “Okay, mom. Love you. Gotta go.” I cut the line with the press of a button and direct my attention to Ms. Harvey.

  “Amber, Spencer Harrison is here,” she announces, tugging at her fingers anxiously.