Taste (Take It Off #9)(36)
Author: Cambria Hebert

“But he said…” My voice trailed away.

“He lied, darlin’. That’s what murderers do.”

I felt stupid. Of course he lied. What kind of person actually believed if I did what he said he wouldn’t kill me?

Me.

I thought that.

Or maybe I was just in denial.

But now that I thought about it, I knew how ridiculous it was. Of course they wouldn’t leave me alive. I was a witness. Someone who could put them away.

“They’re going to kill me to keep me from talking,” I echoed.

Spencer stepped closer. “They’re going to try.”

“And Jack?” I asked, hoarse.

“He’s just a kid. I don’t think they care about him. He’s just a bargaining chip to make you do what they want.”

“Who would leave a little boy without parents?” I asked, horrified.

He tried to hug me, but I pushed him away. I didn’t need comforted right now. I needed this to be over.

“You have protection, Elle,” Spencer said. “The Secret Service isn’t just going to let these assholes get to you.”

“But what if they do?”

He swore. I knew he hated this. The way he felt radiated off his body. It soaked the room with frustration. I hated it, too. But I also realized it was an advantage.

“That’s how we can get them,” I said.

His eyes snapped up. “What?”

“When they come to kill me. You can take them into custody then.”

“No,” he said, flat.

“Why not?”

“I’m not using you as bait.”

“I already am bait.”

He began pacing the room. “No,” he said again.

I opened my mouth to argue. To tell him he wasn’t my mother and couldn’t just tell me no.

He stopped, held up his hand. “Remember how I said when I moved here, I wanted something that felt permanent. Something that felt like home?”

I nodded.

“I’ve been chasing that feeling most of my adult life, Elle. I bought this place, I painted the walls, redid the floors. I filled it with nice, comfortable furniture and got the address on my driver’s license. I made this place somewhere I never had to move from.”

“I understand that, Spence.”

“No,” he said, cutting me off. “I don’t think you do.”

I didn’t argue with him. If he said I didn’t understand, then I didn’t. I wouldn’t want someone telling me how I did and did not feel, and I wouldn’t do that to him. I’d let him tell me.

“The truth is it didn’t matter what I did here. This place… it never felt like home.”

He ran a hand over his head, and the damp strands of his hair stuck out randomly with the movement. It made him look vulnerable and endearing all at once.

Spencer looked up. His eyes were sincere. “You feel like home to me.”

His words seared me, branded me, claimed me.

“I thought a home was furniture and paint. I thought it was an address you didn’t have to leave. Maybe for some people, it is. But not for me. You’re it for me. You can’t ask me to put that in jeopardy. I will not put you in jeopardy.”

There was nothing.

Nothing I could say that would ever be more beautiful than that.

Nothing I could say to change his mind. In fact, after that, I didn’t want to change his mind. For the first time in my life, I was seeing myself through someone else’s eyes… and it was amazing.

“Okay,” I said. It was lame and stupid, but I had no clue what else to say.

“Yeah?” he asked. Vulnerability shone in his eyes.

It was a new look for him.

I closed the distance between us, slipping my hands around his tight, narrow waist. “Did you really think I could say anything else?”

He grinned crookedly. “I hoped not. That was the best I got.”

“Thank you, Spence,” I whispered, tipping my head back to look up.

“For what?” he asked, his brows drawing down.

“For coming home.”

He kissed me slowly. The strokes of his tongue went deep. His full lips were lazy in their exploration, and he nibbled at my lips gently, enticing me to melt against him completely. When I began to feel dizzy from his intoxication, Spencer lifted me and spun. My back went against the wall and my legs wrapped around his waist. He smiled and kept kissing as I plowed my fingers through the damp strands of his hair.

“You’re going to stay here,” he said, lifting his head. “With me, until this is over.”

“But that will look suspicious,” I protested, resting the back of my head against the wall. “Whoever this is will think I told you.”

“Let him.” He shrugged. “If he really is on the inside, he already knows anyway.”

I really didn’t want to stay at my place anyway. “I guess it will give me time to fix the window.”

A slow smile spread across his face.

“But don’t get any ideas. As soon as Jack comes home, I’m going back to my place.”

“Fine. I’ll stay with you.” He dipped his head to kiss me again, but I turned my cheek.

“I will not be parading men in and out of my house in front of my son.”

“Not men. Just me,” he countered.

“I’m serious, Spencer,” I said, pinning him with a stare. He realized I was being serious and this was important to me. “I can’t let you be there all the time. It will confuse him…”

“Can I sneak in when he’s in bed?” he asked.

Clearly, he was good at compromise.

Or maybe I just really, really liked him.

“That could be arranged.”

He dipped his head to kiss me again. I turned away, again.

He groaned.

“You understand, right?” I worried. Now that I knew Spencer was going to be in my life, I felt this sense of urgency to make him understand that I had to put Jack’s needs before my own.

“I understand, darlin’,” he drawled. “You’re just doing right by him. I respect that.”

“You aren’t mad?”

“I will be if you don’t kiss me.”

I kissed him.

Not once, but twice.

After we’d fixed a couple of fast sandwiches in just the glow of the light from the fridge, we climbed in the giant bed in his room. My limbs were tangled around his, my cheek pillowed on his chest as the sound of his silent breathing filled my ears.