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long, supple legs and saturated his taste buds. With a measured pace that disguised the frenzy boiling in his jeans, he ate her as if the nectar she spilled on his tongue would fuel him for the next twenty-four hours. She started to buck under his mouth when his teeth grazed past her clit. The only thing to do was to hook his hands under her ass and hold on tight. He latched his lips onto her clit, massaging her naked bud with the rough tip of his tongue. She grabbed his shoulder, driving her fingertips into his flexed muscle.
    He could make it last a little longer if he backed off his pace, took her to the place where she moaned long and heavy with the desire to come. Rory arched her back and Spencer slurped slowly, dipping his tongue into her channel a little deeper every time. She started to hum and croon. He swirled his tongue in a circle over her sensitive opening, savoring the taste of her.
    “Oooh, you’re teasing me,” she cried.
    “I am.”
    “You’re going to be late.”
    “Don’t worry about me, babe. I got it all under control.” Spencer slipped two fingers inside her, guiding them smoothly against her walls. “I know what you need, and I’m not leaving until you get it.”
    She giggled, and he redoubled his efforts, focusing on her subtle cues. Two more strokes and she was teetering on the edge. Steady flicks of his tongue against her clit drove her home. She broke in his grasp, shuddering with the slow burn of her orgasm. She had many different kinds; Spencer knew every one.
    “Mmmm. That should hold me,” she said with a sigh.
    “You know I’ll be seeing that sexy look in my head all day today. Gonna make it kind of hard to focus.”
    Rory poked out her bottom lip. “Sorry,” she said, her eyes full of mischief. She popped up on her knees and grabbed a handful of his erection. Her lips were still pursed, calling him without shame toward the temptation. “I’ll be taking good care of you later.”
    “You always do, baby.” Spencer laid a kiss on her lips and then another on her forehead. If he didn’t pull away now, he would be late for sure.
     
    * * *
     
     
    Traffic started to thicken by the GW Bridge. Spencer grew up in Queens, but he’d outgrown the city at twenty and headed up north to be closer to more trees and fewer people. The only thing that got him downtown anymore was work.
    By seven that morning he’d parked the car in a garage on Fourteenth Street and was already sick of the noise.
    “Trailers are over on Fifteenth.” Spencer recognized the voice behind him, but couldn’t place it at first. He turned around to see Jack Rothman sipping on a tall cup of fancy-man’s coffee. “You have any gear you want help with?”
    “Thanks, no. Everything is in here, in my bag. I’m good.” Spencer gave the sandy blond man with the Hamptons suntan a once-over. They’d only met on one other occasion, bent over a worktable while studying reams of schematics. Jack’s powder blue oxford shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, revealing toned forearms that Spencer could only guess were a result of long hours on the tennis court.
    “We need to go over the changes to the plans that we discussed on the phone,” Jack said, giving Spencer a firm handshake. “Do you want to grab a cup of coffee before we get started? I should have thought to bring you one.”
    Spencer cocked his head and pondered the man in front of him. The fluster in his voice seemed out of character. Still it was a nice gesture, even if the delivery was odd. “No thanks. Not into the gourmet stuff anyway.”
    “Well, then let’s get to it. I’ll walk with you,” Jack said.
    Spencer hadn’t planned on the company. Idle chitchat with a know-it-all consultant wasn’t exactly something he found amusing. Not even with one who looked like sex on a stick. Correction, especially with one who looked like sex on a stick. Spencer walked briskly, like he was on a mission.
    Jack fell into step with him. “So, how was your ride