Chapter 31 | Liz

Chapter 31

Liz

“ F irst kiss,” Spencer says with a glance in my direction.

I lean back against the plush cushions of Spencer’s couch with a smile. We opted to stay inside with wine and charcuterie after the mosquitos invaded. “John Nutledge. Seventh grade. Truth or Dare.”

Spencer’s eyes gleam with amusement. “And how was it?”

“Ugh.” I groan. “All tongue, no kiss.”

I’m not sure how we got to playing twenty questions, but we’re deep into it now. Somewhere between white and red wine, we silently agreed to skip the niceties, and I love it. The last time it was this easy with a guy was on a cruise ship almost two decades ago.

I nudge him. “And your first kiss?”

“Sydney Stall. We were thirteen, best friends, neighbors and such.”

“And how was it?”

He laughs, a not-so-sheepish smile brightening his expression. “Better than John Nutledge, I’m sure.”

The air in the room shifts, a tension surrounds us, a spark electrifying the night. Between one breath and the next, I know he’s going to kiss me. Spencer hasn’t moved, and his expression is still playful, his gaze fixed on me, but it’s like he’s screaming his intentions. His fingers play with the curls that have fallen over my shoulder. Every nerve in my body piques as a single finger grazes the bare skin of my collarbone.

“I have to tell you something,” I say as his eyes go half-lidded and he leans in.

“Let me guess.” He pulls back but takes my hand in his. “You’re still married.”

I hang my head and cover my face. Fuck. After a moment, Spencer moves away from me, and my skin goes cold, as if an icy breeze blew through this perfect summer night.

“Trust me,” he says. “Your wedding ring did not go unnoticed the first time we met or your lack of one tonight.”

“Then why hang out with me?” Hang out? Seriously, am I thirteen?

“Because you don’t seem the type to use speed dating for divorcees as a way to lure men into your bed. And...”

“And?” I ask, lifting my head. At least he doesn’t think I’m a deplorable person.

He shakes his head. “Tell me about your husband.”

The word sounds dirty from his mouth despite the fact that he says it evenly and calmly, as if the woman he was about to kiss having a husband is a nonissue. Well, clearly not a nonissue, but if Spencer were the one with a wife, the rug would’ve caught fire with how quickly I would be at the door. But he only stares at me, waiting for an explanation.

“We’re separated,” I say since that seems like the most pertinent part. “It’s been about six weeks.” The number startles me. How is it only and already six weeks? “I found out he was talking to another woman, someone he met while traveling for work. And there’s only been one kiss between them, but he wanted something more to happen, and emotionally... When I confronted him, he had that look in his eyes, the one he gets when he’s about to run. I hadn’t seen that look for years... When I saw it, I knew, and I couldn’t wait around to be left or cheated on, so I walked away.”

Spencer leans forward, his hands clasped between his knees. He looks over at me. “Then this isn’t a hall pass kind of thing?”

I hate that phrase. A hall pass. Is that what Julian thinks he’s giving me? A pass to take some time since he’s taken so much in the past? Anger swells in my chest, and my cheeks brighten. I steel myself for a battle. Except Julian’s not here, and Spencer is waiting for an answer.

“No,” I say, attempting to keep my tone neutral and not let on that there’s a fire kindling inside me. “It’s not a hall pass. We’re separated. I moved out. I’m free to do whatever I please. There’s no set timeline or plans to discuss reconciliation. It’s not like when my lease is up in six months, I go home and this never happened.”

Those words hit me hard. This isn’t temporary. Whatever happens next, this moment is not a stopgap. “My marriage is ending. And I don’t know if it will—if I want it to—begin again.”

I watch Spencer, this man I hardly know and yet feel like I’ve known for much longer than the few hours we’ve been together. His face is shadowed in thought. The gold of his eyes has darkened to amber, and his lips are pressed in a line. What is it about this man? He’s my type—brown hair, golden eyes, tall, refined dad bod—but it’s more than that. His life shows on his face—a crinkle there, a worry line here, a faded scar that runs down his jawline where the first signs of stubble have sprouted. I cup his face, the scratchy little hairs exciting each and every nerve in my hand and beyond. One simple touch, and my body lights up.

His gaze slides to mine. His expression is open and questioning and nervous. My love story never had those looks. From that first kiss on the deck of a cruise ship, Julian had my whole heart. But here, tonight, what happens next involves a real risk. And Spencer has to consider the risk for himself and his son.

“Maybe I should go.” I stand quickly and shoulder my bag. I don’t look back until I reach the door. I can’t. If he’s still staring at me like that, I won’t be able to leave. With one hand on the doorknob, I turn with what I hope at least appears to be a real smile. “Thank—”

“Liz.”

He’s been saying my name all night but not in that way. Not with a hint of exasperation that is far too familiar for our short-lived acquaintance, and that makes my insides quake. And he hasn’t been close enough that goose bumps rise on my arms.

I look up at him, almost a full head taller than me. How nice would it be to rest my head on his chest? That’s always been one of my silent complaints about Julian. He isn’t tall enough for me to rest my head naturally over his heart, and forget it if I wear heels.

Almost of its own volition, my hand goes to Spencer’s chest, fingers splayed across his heart, which beats a steady rhythm. When I look up again, his eyes are on mine. He cups my face, his fingers again tangling in the loose strands. Desire shoots through me, real and honest and overwhelming. Spencer leans down, no hesitation this time, no coy statements, his fingers soft on my skin, his breath against my lips.

I close my eyes and lean up on my tiptoes. Our lips meet, and that desire explodes. It courses through me, pushing the kiss from soft to playful to deep. I wrap my arms around his neck. His one hand cradles my head while the other rests at the sliver of bare skin at my waist.

A perfect kiss. It’s been too long since I had a perfect kiss. For so long, I thought I’d had my last first kiss, but thank god I was wrong. If this kiss never ends, I will be okay with that. His tongue dances with mine, and I can’t think. I lean farther into the kiss. My body is alive, and it wants more, please. I sigh against his lips as he explores my mouth with his own, dancing with me as if we’ve been dancing forever.

He pulls back, stopping for one last peck. “Shall I walk you to your car?”

It’s an invite and an out. Spencer is clearly in, but he’s letting me decide. My body begs me to say yes. One night of pure pleasure with this sexy stranger is everything I need in this moment. But my mind can’t see through to the end. Would I really be able to do it? I’m not the casual-sex type, not when I was single or rebounding. And whatever I am now, I’m not sure that includes sex on the first date or potentially a one-night stand. Though, maybe it doesn’t have to be black and white. There’s an entire spectrum of colors between being walked to my car and falling into bed.

I let my bag drop to the floor and pull him back toward the couch. “Ten more minutes?”