Sunlight floods inside, brightening up the room before my shut eyelids.

I stir lightly, inhaling Spencer's intoxicating scent, and a small smile tugs at the corner of my lips.

His arm is draped around me and hugs me closer to himself. Last night's memories rush back into my head and I snuggle closer to him. Surely last night was one of the best nights I've ever had.

We didn't stop, not until it was well past three in the morning. The myth of I can't have over three orgasms in a single night was proven false too. Eleven. He made climax Eleven times. By the end, we were both barely keeping our eyes open from exhaustion and drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

His lips brush my forehead in a light kiss and my eyes fly open, locking with his dark blue ones.

A lopsided smile is stretched across his still sleepy face, taking my breath away.

"Good morning," he sleepily says, his voice deep and husky.

"Morning," I murmur against his skin before pressing a light kiss to his Adam's apple. His arm flexes around me, hugging me closer.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply as I wrap my arm around his naked body, our legs tangling under the covers once more.

"Do you want to get up?" he sleepily asks.

I shift on my spot, finding the perfect nook and whisper, "No."

"Good," he mumbles and his eyes drop. His hands play with my hair as his breathing grows even again. I lay my palm on his chest, over his heart, feeling the rhythmic beating of it. I let my eyelids flutter shut, as I match my breathing with his.

"Gracie," he softly calls just as I'm at the edge of slipping into my slumber.

I open my eyes and meet his curious ones. "Yeah?"

"Did you sleep alright?"

Warmth courses through my entire body, and I grin. "The best sleep I've had in a really long time."

A wide smile curls his lips before he kisses my forehead, lingering a bit longer than necessary.

I gaze at him intently, admiring his handsome features. His ruffled hair, slowly alerting eyes which under the morning sunlight seems otherworldly beautiful. Gingerly I move my fingers to the dark waves resting on his forehead and brush through them, pushing them slightly aside. I shift and lay on my side to be able to see him easier.

Spencer's gaze never leaves my face, his palm slides from my waist to my breast, he gently runs his fingertips over my soft flesh, drawing idle circles.

Goosebumps break across my skin and I bite my bottom lip to keep in a moan.

"Did I hurt you last night?" he cautiously asks, making my eyebrows jump.

"Not all. I loved every second of it." I trail my fingers down the side of his face, tracing his high cheekbones.

"Are you sore?"

"A little," I mumble, leaning closer to him. "Stop worrying so much. Last night was great." I lay my palm on his cheek.

He grabs my wrist and pulls it to his lips leaving a long kiss on the inside of my palm. Once more, the fire ignites in me, burning me from within with a passion I'm so new yet familiar with. He slowly kisses each of my fingertips before laying one final lingering kiss at the center of my wrist.

Spencer props his head on his elbow, looking down at me. "I'm glad you enjoyed," he whispers, his voice the same deep and low sound that sets the butterflies in my stomach mad.

As I study his face, I can't help my growing curiosity. Even though the questions springing up to my head are the last things someone should ask after the kind of night we shared, I still can't succeed at shoving and locking them away at the back of my head.

Spencer's fingers pull down my bottom lip, freeing it from my teeth. "You know you can ask me anything," he says and a smile curls his lips.

Heat rushes to my cheeks and I look away.

"Gracie," he pushes and I groan, pressing my face deeper into the pillow making him chuckle.

"If there was a list of dos and don'ts, this will definitely be one top of the don'ts."

"And if we were to go by those dos and don'ts, don't you think we shouldn't have been here together in the first place?" he replies.

I consider his answer, he surely has a good point. I suppose we're not the most normal type of coup- wait, what are we?

No no no no. I push away the thought as soon as I can before I get trapped into it. That is very dangerous territory.

"I was curious," I start mumbling and dare to meet his eyes. Even if it's an awful thing to ask, it's better than allowing my mind to roam to those dangerous and troublesome territories. "I mean, I know it's none of my business, and you don't have to answer-"

"Gracie, just ask," he cuts off, arching an eyebrow at me.

I inhale sharply and peer through my lashes. "I get it you're older than me... and from last night it wasn't hard to tell, you have way more experience than I do..." I glance at him and he's frowning with confusion.

"How many girls have you been with? Or if you don't want to say that... I was wondering how many exes you have?" my voice turns small, my cheeks burning from how hard I'm blushing as I hardly stare at a spot on his chest, just an inch below his collarbone.

"That's your question?" The amusement in his tone draws my gaze to him and the warm smile spreads across his face.

I nod.

Running his hand up and down the length of my forearm, he answers, "Three." His eyebrows draw together as if he's thinking. "Well technically, I've had a total of three girlfriends... and excluding them... I've been physical with about three others... I think."

I gape at him. "No way. I don't believe you."

He chuckles. "Why not?"

"Are you counting the ones during your high school too? And college? I didn't mean after graduating."

A hint of sadness tints his eyes and weakens his smile. He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. "I had one girlfriend during high school, one during the second half of my undergrad, and you know about the last. And the other three who were not my girlfriends, it was during the first two years of college."

I don't stop gawking at him. Wrapping my head around this information just seems impossibly hard. I was expecting a way higher number. And it doesn't make sense, he probably hasn't changed much from that time... then how come he wasn't popular.

"I was honestly expecting you to be one of the players."

He laughs. "Being the nerd and player don't go along very well."

I smirk. "So you were the nerd?"

"Obviously, the kind of guy you probably wouldn't have noticed if we were going to the same school."

"Impossible." I scoot closer to him, still smiling, looking up at him with what I assume should be my best puppy dog eyes, I plead. "Tell me all about your school years. I want to know everything."

His face falls, and he blinks a few times, hesitating.

"Please, Spencer, I want to know more about you."

He sighs and shifts on his spot, propping himself higher up, and twirls a lock of my hair around his fingers, absently playing with it.

"It was pretty average," he dismissively starts and rolls his eyes when I give him a pointed look.

"Fine... in high school, I was the hated geek... I dated this girl for about six months. Suddenly one day she called things off and the next day she started spreading stupid rumors about me, giving everyone new things to mess up with me."

I frown and interrupt him, "Wait, were you bullied in your school?"

He shrugs. "It wasn't that bad."

I gasp and sit upright, holding the covers to my chest and I turn and watch him with wide eyes. "You were really bullied? What do you mean it wasn't that bad?"

He falls on the bed, his head and shoulders pressing against the headboard, chuckling lightly. "Gracie it's over ten years ago. No need to be so dramatic."

"I'm not being dramatic." Though my voice has gone an octave higher than its usual pitch. But how can I not react to this? Just imagining the younger version of him being pushed around sends a painful jab through my heart.

He holds his hands up. "You said you didn't want to get up yet, come back."

Still frowning, I listen to him and lay back down, resting my head on his chest as his arms wrap around me.

"It's how high school works," he softly says.

"No, it's not. If I was in your school-"

"There was a good chance you would have joined them," he interjects.

I slap his chest and hold up my head to glare at him. He only laughs.

"I never bullied anyone. Yes, I was one of the popular ones, no, actually I was the most popular girl in school, but bullying? Never! In fact, I was strictly against it. No one even dared to bully anyone in school during my years, because they knew they'd be going against me and the rest of the cool kids."

He smiles at me, amusement gleaming in his eyes.

"What? You don't believe me? Everyone respected me. I was the richest girl. Simply the most powerful person, no one dared to mess with me."

"Even now I don't think anyone dares to mess with you, you're the wildcat of every group."

I glare at him. His chuckle rumbles deep within him, shaking me a little too.

"It was a compliment," he says and I narrow my eyes and nod with exaggerated suspicion. He only grins in return.

I rest my head back on his chest and crane my neck to watch his face. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," I mumble.

He caresses my cheek. "It's in the past. And for what it's worth, I turned out to be more successful than all of them."

That makes me smile. "College?" I inquire.

He sighs, his arms slightly tighten around me as he gazes at the library on the wall across from the bed. "It- those..." he releases a rush of air, fumbling with words.

I study his features curiously.

"The first two years of my undergraduate weren't the best. My mom had passed away... I told you once I wasn't coping with it that well... it's a miracle they didn't kick me out of school."

Hesitantly, I dare to ask, "How bad was it?"

"I got into drinking heavily, day and night. And then there was the excessive use of study drugs for assignments and exams." He shakes his head. "I think I spent almost a quarter of the money my mom had saved for my college over those." Pressing his lips into a hard line he mutters, "Dark days."

The pieces slowly click together. How he can simply down drinks without flinching... and his sister's disapproved look when he was having his third drink that night at the club.

"The girls were a distraction... a break," he mumbles uncomfortably.

"What made you change?"

He lifts a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, still refusing to meet my gaze. "I didn't want to be forced to drop out of school or be forced to rely on anyone. I pulled myself together. A year later, I started dating again... the same one who ended up cheating on me with your brother." A small smile tugs the corners of his lips and he finally looks down at me.

"Sorry about that," I mumble, blushing again. Stupid Mason.

He laughs. "I told you it's not important." Seeing my unconvinced face, he kisses the top of my head and I can't help but relax back into him.

With his hand playing with a strand of my hair he continues, "The rest is boring college life, and you know the rest about Julia."

Silence falls over us like a comfortable blanket. My mind reels back to the night I saw him at the club and pick up my head from his chest once more to ask, "Did you remember that night at the club..." I start and he squints at me slightly, waiting for me to go on.

"You told me you don't trust anyone... were you exaggerating?"

He exhales sharply, buying time by running his hand over the creases on my forehead caused by furrowing my brows. "I wasn't."

I tilt my head a little, wanting to probe him further but it doesn't get to that, he continues himself without me needing to ask for an explanation. "I really do struggle with trusting. It's not something that comes to me easily."

"Why?"

"Trust ruins people. My mom trusted him and he ruined her life. I trusted my mom and she hit me probably worse than he hit her with all the assisted suicide thing... I trusted that girl in my high school, dated her and she took advantage of that. I had friends who I trusted and they shamelessly betrayed me... you see the pattern. I always end up trusting the worst person possible. Better to stay safe and on guard rather than going through the hell of betrayal."

I gulp with effort. 'I always end up trusting the worst person possible' sticks out in my head like a sore thumb and goes round and round, replaying like a broken tape.

Does this include me too?

Does it matter that the only reason I started to get close to him was because of the solution for the hypothesis?

A sudden burst of guilt makes me queasy.

I dare to question, "You don't trust me either?"

His eyes bore into mine as if he's carefully wording his answer. He brings his index finger beneath my chin and leans down to me. "Do you really think I would have given you the power to destroy me with a single word if I didn't trust you?"

Relief washes through me but it doesn't ease the churning of my stomach and the growing tightness in my chest.

"Just don't lie to me... don't ever break my trust Gracie," he softly adds. "I won't be able to forgive you and trust you again."

My heart plummets down to the ground, the floor, or maybe even to the center of the earth.

Will he hate me if he ever finds out about my initial intentions?

He frowns. "Gracie, are you hiding something from me?"

"No," I lie and I'm grateful my voice comes out normal rather than a shrill whenever I lie. I lean to him and murmur against his lips, "I'm just glad you trust me." Without waiting I press my lips to his, shoving aside every other thought and letting the euphoric feeling of having his lips on mine consume me.

Spencer's lips mold over mine, kissing me slowly. I savor the mind-numbing sensation as he slowly lays me back on the bed, his arm still around my shoulders, keeping our bodies closer together as he hovers over me. His hand travels from my hair to my chest, kneading and fumbling with my breasts.

I moan in his mouth, resting one hand on his neck as I let my other palm feel the hard muscles of his chest and torso, unhurriedly moving southwards.

He breaks the kiss, panting. "Gracie," he warns in a gruff voice.

"Don't stop, I want you," I breathe out and from his neck pull him down to me, capturing his lips in another heated make out.

His hand slips between my thighs, finding my sensitive nub and gently rubbing it.

I gasp at the feeling, the familiar tightening returns to my muscles as I grow hotter and heat pools in my core.

My hand finds his already erect member and I gently move my hand up and down his length.

He bites my bottom lip, pulling it between his lips. I moan louder, my fingers clutching his neck harder as he plunges his finger into me and I stroke him faster.

He slips in a second finger and my toes curl; my head pushes into the soft pillow. "I'm so close," I whimper.

Abruptly he stops and I whine but don't get the chance to argue as he turns me until my back is pressed against his chest. The hand that was around my shoulders is now grabbing one of my breasts as he lifts my leg with his other hand and he positions himself perfectly behind me and slowly pushes into me.

I throw my head back as a deep moan falls from my mouth. He toys with my nipple and lays hot open-mouthed kisses along my shoulder.

I reach out behind me and tangle my fingers in his hair.

At first, he thrusts into me slowly, making me feel every inch of him as he fills me up to the brim before pulling out and going deep in me again.

The pressure keeps on building, I'm already sensitive from last night's activities. Our bodies move together, skin against skin. I meet his thrust with my hips, the perfect dirty words he whispers in my ear all combined electrifies my senses.

"Spencer," I moan louder as he picks up his pace. "I-I'm," words fail me as they refuse to align in my head so I can speak them.

He grazes my ear. "Come for me."

And I don't hold back, screaming his name as my body jumps headfirst into the pool of ecstasy. My orgasm breaks through my body pushing it into utter bliss.

He slows down but doesn't stop, only picking up his pace after I've somewhat recovered.

After long minutes, the pressure begins to build up again, he lets go of my already shaking leg to rub my sensitive nerve ending with his hand while his other hand keeps our upper halves pressed together.

His movements become more urgent; his breathing grows heavier. I hold on to his arm as I feel myself nearing the edge for the second time this morning.

With a few more harder thrusts we both come, me moaning and whimpering on top of my lungs and him groaning near my ear as we both share our moment of breathless haziness of pleasure.

After we've managed to catch our breaths, he turns my head back to him and kisses me deeply, turning me into a puddle of mush.

"What are your thoughts on saving some water and showering together?" he murmurs against my lips.

I can't help the grin that spreads across my face as I lay my palm on his cheeks. "Sounds perfect to me."

He kisses me again, making me forget about everything and anything.

∞ ∞ ∞

I dry my hair, Spencer promised to prepare something suitable for brunch. My muscles are still sore... maybe because we went at it again in the shower too. Thankfully it seems he can't get enough of me just like myself. Frankly finding someone who matches my level craving for being physical is much better than I ever could have imagined.

I gaze at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are rosy, my eyes are wide and vivid, the afterglow of sex has my skin looking its best version.

I blush as Spencer's naked body reappears in my head.

My smile falters.

I've had enough no-string arrangements to know how they should feel. And what I'm sharing with Spencer is nowhere near that. Not even close.

As I towel my hair, I can't help but use these few minutes of being alone to consider my options.

One where I can pretend these feelings away, and risk getting them more tangled and end up hurting myself badly by the end.

The other option, the slightly horrific one, is to woman up, be an adult and tell him my side's feeling and see how he reacts and if we'd be able to work anything out according to that. Simply, communicate.

Spencer is the oldest guy I've ever been with, as nerve-wracking as it can be that he's more experienced than I am, at least it has the bonus of he might actually be mentally ready for open communication. No matter how scary it seems to me.

After all, if I tell him how I feel, things might abruptly end between us, and it will hurt like hell. But I'm sure the pain won't be anywhere near the heartbreak I'd be forced to go through if I hide my emotions.

I have to talk to him. I resolve and put away the towel, but before I leave the bathroom, I can't help delve deeper into this matter.

Assuming, he agrees to allow things to go beyond just physical... I've known my true intentions from the very first moment and they haven't been the best. Without a doubt, if he finds out, he'll break things off with me.

I mean, how can I ever convince him that it doesn't matter I began chasing and seducing him at first so I'd be able to convince him to solve this problem with me and publish it with my name alongside his. But as things went on, I caught feelings too.

I know I wouldn't accept this case if the roles were reversed.

Though the keyword is if.

No one knows about my plans other than Melody... Mason might have figured something is out of the ordinary but nothing in the details. And I won't ever be telling him. So there's no way for him to find out.

The only matter that remains is, will I be able to live with myself, each time seeing his face and knowing the foundation of our relationship is with me wanting to use him.

Can I live with the guilt and yet be happy?

I nibble my bottom lip as I ponder over the swirling questions in my head.

It isn't too late to pull away from him. Both of us might be slightly hurt, his ego and my heart, but that's it, we'll easily live through it.

I sigh, not knowing what to do.

Every special moment I've shared with him crosses my mind. So far, he has been nothing but sweet and honest with me. I have been deceiving him, indirectly pushing him towards the path I want him to go down.

But as the memories flash past my eyes, I can't help the euphoric feelings that consume me whenever he's around.

No, I don't want to lose that. I'll learn to live with my dark side, but I won't jeopardize what I have with him.

I decide and nod to myself. It's the right and the best thing to do.

I leave the bathroom and slowly make my way to the kitchen island. He has placed two plates and a mug of coffee for me.

I jump up on the stool and watch him as he fries the eggs in the pan.

"It's the only thing I know how to make and be sure it'll be edible," he says, glancing at me.

I smile as I plant my elbow on the top, resting my chin on my palm, and gaze at him. "So you really don't know how to cook?"

"Doesn't this count?"

I giggle. "Omelette does not count."

"Well, it kept me going for over five years." He shrugs and I gasp. Five years! My goodness. "And instant noodles," he adds, flashing a grin at me over his shoulder.

We fall quiet and my brain starts building ways of bringing up the topic I need to talk to him about.

Too lost in my thoughts I don't realize when he starts staring at me.

"Gracie?" he calls out, snapping me out of my muddled plans. "What's wrong?"

I shake my head and straighten myself. "Nothing." My voice comes out way pitcher than I would have liked and unfortunately, he catches on to it.

His eyes narrow and he leans to the edge of the countertop, near the stove. He glances at the frying pan before hesitantly asking, "You don't regret last night and this morning?"

"What? No! Not at all," I exclaim with surprise. Did my face really indicate that?

Spencer relaxes slightly, tilting his head a little. "Then what's wrong?"

I gulp noisily and shift on my seat, shrugging and trying to appear nonchalant all the while he studies me closely.

He sighs and looks away, turning off the stove and picking up the pan, he walks to the island and drops one of the omelets on my plate and the other one on the plate placed next to mine. For him.

Silently he puts the pan away and settles on the stool next to me, pushes his glasses up his nose all the while I nibble my bottom lip and avoid looking at him directly.

"Gracie," he softly starts, making me gingerly glance at his kind face. "You know you can tell me anything."

I inhale sharply, fidgeting with my fingers. The right words don't come to me, let alone form an entire sentence. How am I going to tell him?

Maybe I shouldn't?

My heart pounds away in my chest as I struggle.

Gently, he pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear to be able to see my face. I turn to him and he offers an encouraging smile.

"The thing is..." I start unsurely and angle myself to face him. His fingers intertwine with mine stopping the constant fiddling as he waits for me.

My exhale releases in a rush of air. The warmth of his hand is a nice distraction from my anxiously racing heart and instead, it starts a little fluttering in my stomach.

"I know we haven't gone into the details of our... setting... a-and I don't want to force you into anything but..." I peer at him through my lashes. A small crease has appeared between his brows, confusion is smeared over his face.

"I've had my fair share of no strings, strictly physical arrangements... and I know how they feel." I bite my bottom lip and scrutinize his expression, but it's still confusion.

I gather the last pieces of my courage and continue, "The only problem here is that... I really won't be able to keep things like that with you... and I don't want us to not know what the other one wants or expects. I-I'd understand if you want things to be super casual... but I really don't I can pull that off. And I'm sorry I probably should have told you sooner, at least from the time I felt like I won't be able to keep things casual from my side. I'd understand if you wouldn't want to continue with me after knowing this."

By the time I'm done and manage to steal a glance at his face, he's grinning so wide the corners of his eyes are crinkled and his eyes are gleaming. Now it's my turn to be confused. I frown at him.

His grin only widens and he leans to me, pressing a long kiss to my forehead, and cups my face with his long slender hands. "That's what you wanted to say?"

"Yeah," I answer with uncertainty. This was not the reaction I was expecting.

"I thought you wanted everything between us to be casual, looks like we're both on the same page."

My eyes widen and for a silly second, I don't let myself get hopeful, fearing I might have heard him wrong. "You want things to be exclusive between us? To be special?"

His soft kiss is all the answer I need, his lips slowly moving with mine, conveying the emotions of the answer way better than words.

"Of course I want us to be exclusive," he murmurs against my lips and kisses the tip of my nose.

I giggle with relief, beaming at him.

Spencer locks his gaze with mine. "But I want you to set the pace. Whatever that you're comfortable with, okay? We don't have to rush into anything. If you want to give us a title, fine by me, if not, still fine by me. The only thing I want from you is to be open and honest with me. Okay?"

My heart sputters for a moment. Honest. "Okay," I promise, paying no heed to the guilt and the unreasonable fear of being caught.

∞ ∞ ∞

Hmm... do you guys think Gracie should be feeling guilty? Knowing her motives and all?

And do you think if Spencer finds out, will his trust be broken? =)

I hope you enjoyed this chapter =)

Don't forget to vote if you did and comment your thoughts!

Next chapter will be up tomorrow

Thank you so much for reading!

Stay safe, lots of love, happy reading! <3