Taste Page 13

  “Keep talking,” Walsh said, clearly liking Spencer’s line of thought.

  “And then she does it,” Spencer said, like it was just that easy. “The president pretends to pass out. We cart him off into safety and let the news spread like wildfire through the White House that he’s dead.”

  “What about the press?” I asked.

  “We keep it contained in the White House for a couple days. Gag order the entire staff. Tell them we aren’t announcing until we can get a statement, get the vice president briefed, yadda, yadda… You know, political stuff.”

  “It’s a small window,” Walsh muttered.

  I wasn’t sure what he meant by that.

  “Yeah. It is. We won’t be able to keep it quiet for long. But we already know the people behind this are anxious. They gave her a deadline. As soon as they think he’s dead, they’re going to do something to give themselves away.”

  “And then we’ll get them,” Walsh said, nodding his head.

  Spencer looked smug. “And the president comes out of hiding and gets back to work.”

  “We’ll go with it. Meeting in my office first thing tomorrow.”

  “Are we seriously doing this?” I asked, their rapid-fire plan and decision making was giving me a headache.

  Or maybe it was the drugs I inhaled.

  Walsh pinned me with a look. “Back to work in the morning. Back to cooking.”

  “Oh, you suddenly decided I’m not guilty?” I couldn’t help the bitterness in my voice.

  “I suddenly decided to give you a chance to prove you aren’t,” Walsh countered and walked toward the door.

  I was glad to see him go.

  Of course, the minute I thought that, he turned back around.

  “You know it’s not going to be so cut and dry,” he said directly to Spencer.

  He nodded tightly.

  What did that mean? Why did the room suddenly feel ten degrees colder?

  “Better enjoy tonight,” Walsh said as he left the room and went down the stairs. “It’s going to be a while before you get another one.”

  The sound of the front door latching echoed through the house.

  “Spence,” I whispered.

  He was at my side in two seconds flat. Cool air brushed over my bare legs when he ripped the covers away and slid beneath them. The worn texture of his jeans rubbed against my legs, and I pushed myself against him, wishing I could get even closer.

  “What a fucking mess,” he muttered, stroking my hair. His harsh words were a direct contrast to the way he was behaving toward me.

  I grabbed onto his forearms and held on, like I was on a rollercoaster and he was the safety bar.

  “When I turned around and saw you weren’t there,” he whispered, “it was the worst feeling I’ve ever had.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What’re you sorry for?” he rasped. “You didn’t do anything, darlin’.”

  “You said to stay with you. I didn’t listen.”

  “You’re here with me now,” he said, pulling back to look at me.

  I didn’t let go of him; my hands stayed firmly around his arms.

  “I’m gonna stay this time.” I promised. I hoped he understood the veiled meaning behind my words.

  I’m yours.

  Don’t hurt me.

  I think I’m falling for you.

  He closed his eyes like the words were painful. When he reopened them, I noted the amber flame deep in their depths. “I’m gonna keep you.” Spence accentuated the softly spoken words by tucking my hair behind my ear.

  Those words affected me more deeply than if he’d said I love you.

  I smiled because there was no way I could keep the giddy joy he just gave me inside.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

  “Even with bruises, tangled hair, and bloodshot eyes?”

  “Especially.”

  “I like a guy who’s easy to impress.” I smiled.

  He chuckled and the sound was like a heating pad to all my aches and pains.

  “Spence,” I whispered again.

  “Elle,” he whispered back.

  “Remind me,” I prompted.

  “Remind you of what?”

  “Of what it’s like to feel something other than scared to death. Of something other than physical pain.”

  “Baby, I’m sorry you hurt.” He brushed his thumb across my bottom lip.

  I leaned forward and kissed him. His lips parted and I slipped my tongue inside as he pulled me down so my entire body was on top of his. His hands slipped beneath the hem of his shirt I still wore and his fingers traced the line of my spine.

  I nipped at his lower lip and sucked his tongue into my mouth. He gave me total control, lying back and letting me set the pace of the kiss. But it was hard to take control when I felt so out of control.

  I wanted him to take over. I wanted to follow his lead, not because I was weak, but because every good warrior used a shield.

  Spencer was my shield.

  He seemed to sense my inner floundering and abruptly rolled, pinning me beneath him and covering me with his muscular frame. Before he kissed me, he drew back. “This okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  He kissed me with a smile on his lips. I swallowed the feeling whole, wanting all the happiness I could taste. The hard ridge straining against his jeans pushed against me insistently, and I moaned.

  How is it that I wanted him again already? I felt like he was touching me for the first time all over again. I loved the way he seemed to wrap around me, how when I was with him, all my fears and anxiety melted away

  I reached between us, fingering the button on his jeans and opening them. His mouth left mine and trailed across my jaw and down to my neck. I spread my thighs eagerly, giving him more than enough room to settle between them.

  God, the way he felt on top of me was incredible, and the way he supported most of his weight on his arms so he didn’t hurt me.

  I rubbed against him like his body was the beat to my favorite song. After several tries, I managed to get his jeans down enough for his erection to spring free. The smooth round head slid through my warm juices and made him shudder.

  I smiled and raked my nails across his lower back, pressing him closer, inviting him in.

  It only took one try for him to find the sweet spot, the entrance to the core of my body. Spencer slid right in, spearing me from the inside, and my legs flopped languidly against the bed.

  He moved inside me, rocking back and forth. The action of his hips as he slid into me again and again was almost my undoing.

  I gripped at his naked ass, pulling him even deeper.

  “Closer,” I urged.

  I felt his arms slide up so his hands could grip the top edge of the mattress. The pressure of his added weight against me made me shiver. I buried my face into the side of his neck as he used the mattress as leverage to pull himself even deeper.

  I moaned. Or maybe it was a growl. Holding himself that deeply, he began to make little rocking motions, the head of his cock throbbing against my walls.

  Without thought, my teeth sank into his shoulder as an intense orgasm ripped through my body. I shuddered and trembled beneath him, little whimpers escaping the back of my throat as my teeth stayed firmly in his flesh.

  In the middle of my explosion, his body stiffened and he released the mattress. Quickly, he slid both hands around my back and held me against him as I felt him pour every last drop of himself deep within my body.

  When it was over, he still lay on top of me, breathing heavily. The shirt I was still wearing was stuck to me, and I felt sweat slick his broad back.

  Finally, he leveraged himself up and looked down at me. Satisfaction was heavy in his stare. I gasped, noticing the teeth marks I’d left behind in his shoulder. “Did I hurt you?” I asked, brushing my fingers over the marks.

  “Hell no,” he drawled. “You can bite me anytime you want.”

  “Well, if
you keep making love to me like that, I probably will.”

  He turned smug. “Is that an open invitation?” he asked, lowering down to kiss me. Then he kissed me again.

  “You always do that,” I whispered.

  “Do what?”

  “Kiss me twice. Never once.”

  “That’s because one taste of you is never enough.”

  “It’s an open invitation,” I whispered, answering his earlier question. “One I hope you’ll use very often.”

  “Just try and keep me away.” He rolled to the side and we both lay there staring up at the ceiling. The normal sounds of nighttime drifted in through the window, sounding closer than usual. Then I remembered the window was busted.

  “Are we safe here?” I asked, turning to look at the broken panes.

  “I don’t think he’ll be back tonight,” Spencer said.

  “What about the window?” I asked.

  “I can put something over it.”

  But the house would still be vulnerable. I would still feel watched. Would I ever feel safe in my house again?

  Spencer rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “You’re freaked out.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “I’m a man. Men don’t get freaked out.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  He reached down and threaded his fingers through mine. “But I don’t like seeing those bruises on your skin. I don’t like seeing the shadows in your eyes.”

  Suddenly, I felt like crying. I missed Jack. I missed feeling safe in my own bed. I missed not having to worry about dying.

  “Come on,” he said, jumping up from the bed. His jeans slid down around his legs. It made me laugh. He grinned and yanked them back up, fastening the button.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Some place you’ll be able to get some sleep.”

  I let him tug me to my feet. “Where is that?”

  He smiled. “My place.”

  19

  I couldn’t help but be curious about the place Spencer called home. I already knew quite a bit about him, even though up until recently we spent most of our time flirting. You could learn a lot about a person in between flirting and cookie snatching.

  He lived in an apartment not too far from the White House, on a busy street in D.C. (although almost all the streets in D.C. were busy). When he opened the door, I went in ahead of him, my eyes eagerly taking in the space. But it was dark. I couldn’t really see much. So instead, I shuffled a little farther into the room, hoping I didn’t trip and fall over something I couldn’t see.

  Spencer chuckled and reached around me to hit the light on the wall. I was momentarily distracted from the room as his arm brushed over me. I tipped my head back and smiled up at him. He leaned down and gave me a loud kiss that made me laugh.

  “Wait a minute,” he said when I pulled back. “I need another one.”

  I was totally charmed when he wrapped his arms around me and swept me back off my feet like we were dancing. His lips touched mine, this time without the humor and with all the heat.

  When he was done, he placed me back on my feet and gestured to his place. “This is it,” he said. “It’s kind of bare because I’m not here very much.”

  True, it wasn’t overfull with stuff, but I liked it that way. The walls were the color of gray storm clouds and all the trim was bright white. The floors looked like old hardwood that had been re-stained a dark walnut shade.

  The room was a giant square with a large tan leather sectional dominating most of the floor space. In front of it was a large square ottoman covered in the same fabric as the sofa. Off to the side was a small wooden side table littered with several remotes and a small lamp with a white shade.

  Against the far wall hung a large flat-screen TV, and beneath it was a black TV cabinet. Beyond the living room was a wall with a large pass-through cut out, and I could see behind it was the eat-in kitchen.

  Spencer stepped behind me and dropped his keys and gun onto a small table by the door. There was a stack of mail there that looked like it was collecting dust, and he kicked off his shoes, tossing them beneath the table.

  He looked kind of silly wearing his jeans and his suit jacket with no shirt. I offered to give back his T-shirt, but he wanted me to leave it on, so I did.

  He was still holding the small duffle of clothes that I packed, and he pointed to the room off the living room. “How about that shower?”

  I nodded and followed along behind him into the single bedroom in this apartment. The walls were the same gray, the trim the same white, and the bed was huge. It was definitely a king size and the headboard and footboard were padded leather. All the blankets were white.

  “Nice,” I said.

  “You seem surprised.” He grinned and tossed my bag on the bed.

  “I gotta say, I thought it would be more… bachelor-ish?”

  He laughed. “For a long time, I didn’t really have much of anything. I moved around a lot and deployed with the Marines. When I got out and moved here, I wanted something more… permanent. Something that felt like mine, you know?”

  I nodded.

  “So I bought furniture.” He shrugged.

  “I like it a lot.”

  “Wait ‘til you see the inside of my shower,” he said, coming up and wrapping his arms around me.

  “And what is so special about your shower?” I asked.

  “I’m going to be naked in it.”

  “Hmm,” I purred. “Well, that’s definitely special.”

  Spence laughed and dropped a kiss on my lips while yanking off my shirt. Then he kissed me again. He stepped back and unfastened his jeans, revealing the short, wiry curls at the apex of his hips.

  When he held out his hand, I took it, allowing him to lead me into the all-white bathroom and turn on the shower.

  What was supposed to be a get clean and get out activity turned into a slow exploration of every body part we both had. The suds were slippery, his hands were hot… and his mouth was even better.

  By the time both of us were thoroughly “clean,” the water had long gone cold, and I was shivering.

  Spence reached around me to shut off the spray and palm my ass one last time. “You’re fucking sexy.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  He grinned and opened the shower door. I stepped out ahead of him, reaching for a fluffy white towel. I ran it over my face and head, then wrapped it around my shoulders.

  The silence in the room seemed a little off, so I glanced over my shoulder. Spencer was still standing in the shower, dripping wet, with an angry expression.

  “Spencer?”

  “Why didn’t you say anything,” he ground out.

  “About what?” I asked, confused.

  His muscles flexed and bunched as he stepped out of the shower and pulled the towel off my shoulder, exposing my back.

  “This,” he growled, turning me toward the mirror. I had to look over my shoulder and into the reflection to see what he was talking about.

  There was a blotchy purple bruise low on my back. “It’s no big deal,” I said, my gaze briefly touching on all the other bruises that marred my skin from the first attack my body endured. I tried to pull the towel back up, but Spencer wouldn’t release his hold on the material.

  “That wasn’t there before,” he growled. I watched as a stricken look came into his eyes. “Did I do this?”

  “Of course not!” I hurried to say. “You couldn’t be that rough with me if you tried.”

  “I didn’t notice it,” he murmured, brushing his open palm against it.

  It was sore, but in truth, I hadn’t noticed it either. I’d been too busy enjoying his body. “At the house earlier,” I said, remembering. “The intruder, he punched me around that area.”

  Spencer’s eyes went flat. It made my stomach hurt, so I tugged the towel out of his grip and pulled it up around my shoulders. “It doesn’t hurt,” I said, wanting to take away t
he look on his face.

  He reached up and grabbed the ends of the towel that met at my chest. Gently, he tugged it closer, and I was momentarily distracted by the way his damp skin glistened under the lights.

  “I’m going to get this son of a bitch,” he vowed. “He put his hands on you. For that I will kill him.”

  “Spence.” I covered his hands with mine. “I don’t want you to kill him. Because if you do, he’ll successfully take away something that I’m pretty sure I can’t live without.”

  “If he’s dead, he can’t hurt Jack either.”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t mean Jack. Not this time.”

  “Then?”

  “If you kill him, they’ll put you in jail, and I’ll have to live without you.”

  Emotion passed behind his eyes, and he pulled me against his chest. I curled in close against him, letting the moment absorb into my skin.

  “I’m gonna keep you, too,” I whispered.

  He groaned and held me tighter. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he vowed.

  After several minutes in his arms, I pulled back and gave him a smile. “As soon as the president is dead, the threat to me and Jack will be, too.”

  The same look from before, the dark, angry one he displayed at my house earlier tonight, resurfaced.

  “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” I demanded. “What aren’t you saying?”

  “Get dressed. Then we’ll talk.”

  I thought about protesting and making him lay it all out here and now. But some conversations were better held while wearing pants. This was probably one of them.

  I left him in the bathroom to dry and get changed and wandered out into the bedroom to dig through my duffle. I pulled out a pair of navy leggings and a loose A-line tank top that was the same color of the walls.

  Quickly, I brushed my damp hair and decided to braid it in pigtails again so it would be wavy in the morning for work.

  Spencer put on a pair of tight black boxer briefs that totally stole all my attention until he pulled on a pair of low-riding dark-gray Nike sweatpants. When he pulled a T-shirt out of the dresser, I shook my head and he tossed it aside with a grin.