Never Let Go (21 page)

I hide a smile and let him lead me. My heart rate is palpably faster when he’s this close, and my stomach insists on doing flips. I try to tell my body that this type of reaction is part of
old
Paige, but I guess it takes more than just dressing the part to become a different person.

Spencer brings me to a door in the far corner of the warehouse. He unlocks it with a key, turns on the lights, and ushers me in.

The room is the size of a small office. But I’ve never seen an office so full of…
stuff
. One wall is shelved from floor to ceiling. Different pieces of metal, from coins to sheets to ingots to wires, take up every visible space. Across from it is a working desk. There are small, indistinguishable pieces of scrap all over.

“Turn around,” Spencer suggests. I do—and can’t help the small gasp. This wall, the one with the door, is decorated with all types of beautiful trinkets. I see necklaces and earrings, beads and abstract designs. Some have colorful rocks in them. Others have intricate engravings.

What stands out most is that no two pieces are alike. Each one looks like it has been painstakingly crafted. And all of them have a certain dark edge that makes it clear they were crafted by the same hand.

“So?” Spencer asked, leaning against the desk. “What do you think?”

“You made all of these?” I ask.

He nods.

“They’re beautiful,” I enthuse. “I had no idea you were an artist.”

Spencer chuckles. “That’s generous of you. I’m just a guy who likes working with his hands.”

I turn back to hide the faint flush that forms on my cheeks at the double-entendre. One of the pieces catches my eye. I reach out tentatively. “May I?”

“Touch them? Sure.” Spencer comes up behind me and directs my hand with his. “This one,” he says, “is the only one I will never sell.” He hooks an intricate figurine from a rung and places it in my hands.

I turn it over, fascinated by the deep markings and engravings running over the sides. It feels heavy and raw, like it possesses real value.

I would never have imagined Spencer capable of creating something like this. The patience and care that was obviously put into it astounds me.

I’m starting to understand how wrong I’ve been about him this whole time.

“Why?” I ask, my voice hitching.

“Because,” Spencer says, his voice almost a whisper, “I made it for someone very special to me.”

I gasp as his splayed hand goes on my abdomen. He pulls me into him.

“Because,” he breathes into my ear, “it would break my heart to lose the last piece I have of her.”

My breath catches.
Her?

Spencer’s hands go to my neck. He brushes my hair aside and gently peels the jacket off my shoulders. He lowers his nose to the valley of my collarbone and inhales.

I can feel the heat of his skin. My body breaks out in goose bumps at the intimacy of his touch. My natural defenses threaten to kick in—but I shove them down.

This is what I came here for, isn’t it?

“Paige…” Spencer says softly. “You don’t know how much I want you right now.”

A rush of heat floods my cheeks. I’m glad he can’t see my face.

I make my voice strong. “You do?”

“Yes. Without question.” His voice carries the utmost conviction. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that morning.” He slips my jacket an inch lower, exposing more of my skin. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about
you
.”

I close my eyes. I thought Spencer was the biggest bullshitter in the world when I met him. But now… now, hearing the
sincerity
in his words… feeling the
desire
that pulses through me from his touch… now, I’m not so sure.

My heart is pounding in my chest. Every thump feels like a solid hammer blow. Spencer’s close enough to hear that. He
must
hear that.

With shaking hands, I hang the figurine back in its place. I’m terrified of what will happen next. But I came here to face my fears. This is me doing it.

I turn around and let the jacket fall to the floor. Spencer looks deep into my eyes. An intense power emanates from his gaze. I’ve never experienced anything like it.

I take a deep breath and step into him. My breasts press against his hard chest. I lift my chin to maintain eye contact. I cannot let him see my nervousness.

Spencer runs his hands up and down my arms. He has a firm grip. Unwavering. Just like the rest of him.

It’s now or never. If I wait any longer, I’ll lose my nerve.

I catch his hands and link our fingers together. “Tell me what you really want, Spencer.”

His chest rises and falls as his breathing deepens. His eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. I swallow as they roam over my face and come to rest on my lips. “You,” he breathes.

I force the words out in a single breath before my resolve falters. “Then take me.”

My words seem to stun Spencer. But he recovers in a split-second, and his mouth crashes over mine.

I’m shocked by the searing passion that erupts inside of me.
I want him.
Without hesitation, without reservation, I want him.

My tongue clashes with his. Tasting, plundering, devouring. This is the manifestation of his pent-up desire for me. And
God
, it feels good.

I don’t think. I only react. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss is frantic, frenetic, and absolutely obliterating. Spencer’s hands run down my body. He hitches one of my legs up, pressing himself into me. He’s powerful.

Why had I resisted so much before? This feels so very right.

I stumble back with him and am pressed against the closed door. The taste of his lips isn’t enough. I want more. Greedily, my hands slide under his shirt. I need to get him naked,
fast
.

The intensity of that need surprises me. Spencer is my aphrodisiac. He sweeps aside the inhibitions that normally govern my actions. Near him, I feel reckless.

I don’t need alcohol. I don’t need drugs. I only need him.

“Paige.” Spencer catches my hands and breaks away from the kiss. I flounder, lost. I have to blink a few times before I can focus on his face.

His lips are red and swollen from my hunger. His eyes are hazy, half-lidded, and oh-so-sensual.

“Why did you stop?” I ask. My voice sounds small. It’s almost a plea for him to continue.

Spencer tilts his head to the side and looks me over. His eyes are so intense that I’m afraid they will burn a hole in my skull. My heart is fluttering and my body shaking as I wait for his answer.

I can’t take the growing silence. I need him now. I go on my toes and crane my neck forward…

And am stopped a hairsbreadth away from his face by one firm finger on my lips.

“Paige…” Spencer breaks eye contact by looking down. When he focuses his attention on me again, his eyes look sympathetic. He trails the back of his knuckles up and down my cheek.

I shudder and close my eyes, leaning into his touch.

“I can’t do this,” he whispers.

My eyes snap open.
What?
He
can’t do
this
? “What are you talking about?”

Conflict rages behind his gray irises as he takes a step back. I nearly fall forward, unsteadied by the sudden shift. He shakes his head as he backs away. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Sorry.
Sorry
. He’s
sorry
?

Irritation explodes within me. I take a bold step forward. My hands lands on his chest. I feel his heart hammering away under his ribcage.

My breathing is ragged. All my nerves are shot. How dare he stop now, right at the moment I am finally ready?

Then it hits me: Spencer doesn’t want me.

All my resolve fails. I stumble back, blinking away hot tears.

“Paige?” Concern fills Spencer’s voice. “Paige, are you okay?”

I shake my head and emit a muffled sob. I feel dizzy. Nauseous.

He knows now. I’m one of
those
girls: A
Slut
with a capital S, just like the rest of them.

I can’t stay here. I need to get away. I spin around—and am stopped when Spencer’s hand catches my elbow.

“Let me go!” I sputter, jerking myself away.

Spencer doesn’t let go. If anything, his grip tightens as he steps around me. He picks up my other arm as well.

I feel tears stinging my cheeks. Why am I so damn weak? Why can’t I, for once in my life, stand up and do what
I
want?

I’m ashamed of dressing like this. I’m ashamed of trying to be sexy.

I can’t face Spencer. I can’t look into the eyes of the man who does not want me and not break down.

“You’re crying,” Spencer says.

I bite my lip and swing my head from side to side. It’s a wild, unrestrained motion. As if I hope I can erase all my shame with it.

Spencer takes hold of my chin. He forces me to stop moving. He does not tilt my head up. Instead, he bends his knees until he’s at my level.

“I’ve upset you,” he says.

His voice tugs at me. Against my better judgment, I look up.

One glance is enough for me to regret my decision. I flinch away.

There is so much
caring
in his face that it breaks my heart. I don’t deserve it.

“Paige,” Spencer repeats. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Can’t you see?” I want to laugh. Instead, the string of words comes out as another pathetic sob. “Do you want verbal confirmation, too, Spencer? Is it not enough to see my reaction after you’ve rejected me?”

“Rejected?” Spencer sounds flabbergasted. “Paige, I never… oh.” I hear a sharp intake of breath. “That’s what you think happened, isn’t it?”

Is he really so cruel? Does he just want to rub it into my face even more?

I can’t stand the humiliation I’m feeling. The only saving grace of this entire situation is that there is no one else around to see. Otherwise, I think I might die of shame.

“Let me go, Spencer.”

So much for Operation New Me,
I think.

“You’re not going anywhere, kitten,” Spencer says. Oh God, does he have to use that pet name? It only makes it sting so much more. “Not until you give me a chance to explain myself.”

“What’s there to explain?” I spit in his face. “I was supposed to be an easy conquest for you. You got mad when things didn’t go your way. And now that I’m just like the other sluts you date, you’re bored.” I tug at the lack of material covering my stomach in anger. “That’s it, challenge over! You’re an ass, Spencer. A boorish, crude, cruel ass!”

His eyes widen at my outburst. The venomous hate in my words surprises even me. I guess everyone’s capable of an extreme reaction when emotions are running high.

Spencer doesn’t let go, even as I flail around in his grasp. I can feel his fingers digging into my flesh.

“Let me go,” I warn. “Or else I’ll scream.”

Spencer blinks. An odd expression crawls onto his face.

Then he startles me by starting to laugh.

It begins as a mere chuckle. Then it builds in his throat, in his lungs, until it turns into full-on, loud, unrestrained laughter.

I stare at him in disbelief. And damn my body for responding to his mirth. A smile starts to tug my lips up. I don’t know what it’s doing there, and it’s completely at odds with everything I’m feeling inside, but slowly, it grows, too. Soon, I’m giggling, then laughing, all with tears still in my eyes.

Spencer embraces me and holds me tight. I’m trapped, right there against him, but for some reason, it feels right. I’m still mad and upset, disappointed and furious, but those feelings all take a backseat to the growing warmth spreading through my chest.

Spencer keeps laughing, and I laugh with him, not knowing where the humor is coming from or what sustains it. But as he holds onto me, and that damn infectious sound lifts my soul, I begin to feel safe.

Everything feels so good right there in his arms.

Spencer pulls back and holds me at arm’s length. I smile at him like a freaking idiot. I have no idea what just happened. I’d experienced a blitzkrieg of emotions, and somehow come out of it feeling better about myself.

“What’s so funny?” I ask finally.

He touches my cheek. “You said you’d scream.” He smiles. “As if anybody would hear you.”

I consider his words for a moment, and realize how right he is. He’d called me on my bluff. Then we both laughed through it.

“Listen to me,” Spencer continues. The pad of his thumbs wipe away the leftover moisture on my cheeks. “I did not reject you. Nothing could be further from the truth. I just didn’t want to… take you… here.” He gestures around the cramped office. “You mean more to me than that.”

My mouth drops open. I feel a sudden clenching near my heart, as if all the air had been stolen from my lungs.

Spencer looks deep into my eyes. “You’re not ‘another conquest.’ I can’t believe you would put it in those terms.” He steps into me, and I have to take a jerky step back. “I’ve never shown my workspace to another girl before.”

I know Spencer might be full of it. I know he might be lying to get me to feel special. But, I don’t think that’s the case now.

He could have had me minutes ago. I was ready and willing. Yet he was the one who broke away. While a part of me is frustrated at my foiled plot, the inner me—the
real
Paige—appreciates what Spencer did. The promise of his words—that I
mean more to him—
is worth so much more than the night of sex I had come for.

Not that my hormones aren’t screaming at me for screwing up.

“What’s that?” I ask, suddenly noticing a curved base of wood peeking out from behind the desk on the opposite wall.

Spencer turns to look at what I mean.

“Oh.” he smiles. He walks over and picks it up, revealing an old acoustic guitar. He lifts it to eye level and blows the layer of dust off. “I forgot I had this here,” he says.

“Do you play?’ I ask, glad for the diversion. I need time to process everything that had just happened between us.

“I used to,” he mumbles. His fingers run up and down the neck of the guitar, strolling over the strings. “A long time ago.”