Part One


The waiting is the hardest part. Even after two years, I drop everything the minute Spike Pratt wants to see me. Never mind that he almost always makes me wait. Sometimes, while I’m waiting, my mind wanders, and I find myself thinking this will be the time he won’t show. Not that he hasn’t done it before, but that this will be the time. The time when he doesn’t show up because it’s over. And what’s worse is I’m not sure if that would be a good thing or a bad thing.

When I first met Spike, I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world. My sister, Dawn, and I had just moved to New York from Sunnydale, California after our mother passed away. We were just getting settled, she in the dorms at the Fashion Institute of Technology and me in my new, tiny, one bedroom apartment.

We met in a bookstore of all places. It was the week before I started the fall semester at New York University, and I was browsing through the fiction and literature section of the bookstore. My hands were burdened with three large textbooks I had already gathered from the social work section. It was going to cost me a fortune, but those books were required for the graduate program I was starting.

It was there, in the fiction and literature section where I heard his voice for the first time. His voice still makes my knees weak, even after hearing it for two years. The raw seduction oozing from his lips, and his sexy English accent was more than enough to capture my attention.

“Doing a bit of heavy reading there, love?”

At first, I wasn’t even sure he was talking to me. I mean I barely knew a soul in the city and certainly no one with a voice like that. When I turned around there was no mistaking who he was talking to. The bluest eyes I’d ever seen bore into mine with an unyielding force. I should’ve known right at that very moment just how much trouble I was in.

But of course, I had no idea.

I blushed under his gaze, finally realizing I was supposed to respond to this gorgeous creature. Clad in an expensive looking suit, with bright blonde hair and chiseled cheekbones, he was breathtaking. Literally, because at that moment I was finding it hard to breathe.

“Uh, yeah. You could say that.” Not exactly my finest moment.

He walked over to me, taking the romance novel I had been looking at out of my hands. I blushed, because it was some stupid, tawdry novel I probably wasn’t even going to buy.

He put the book back on the shelf and searched for something else. After finding the book he was looking for, he handed it to me with a wink. “Try this one. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

Wuthering Heights. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but that was probably because I usually stuck to stupid, tawdry novels.

“Thanks. I’m Buffy Summers.”

“Spike Pratt,” he introduced himself. “If you don’t mind me asking, what in the world do you need those gigantic books for?”

Shifting the books uncomfortably in my arms, I contemplated lying to this stranger. He appeared older than I was and would probably be put off by the fact that I was a student, even though I was in graduate school. Deciding it didn’t really matter, because he definitely was not interested in me, I told him the truth.

“I’m starting graduate school at NYU.”

He looked impressed, but with a quick glance at his watch and a muttered curse he smiled apologetically at me. “Unfortunately, I have to get going. It was a pleasure meeting you, Buffy Summers.”

I didn’t expect to ever see or hear from Spike Pratt again. So I was very surprised when he called my apartment a few days later. Hearing his voice on the other end of the line made my heart race so fast I thought it would burst through my chest.

“Buffy? It’s Spike Pratt. We met in the bookstore on Sunday?”

Like I would forget. “Yeah, sure, I remember you. Wuthering Heights guy.”

Spike laughed, and I decided that was the best sound I’d ever heard.

“How did you get my number?” I was sure I hadn’t given it to him, and I knew I wasn’t listed in the phone book.

“I’m a very resourceful man,” he told me mysteriously.

I was too elated he had taken the time to find my number to be worried that he might be some crazy stalker. When he asked me out to dinner, I did a little dance around my kitchenette. I hadn’t been able to take my mind off of this man since meeting him and he had not only managed to track me down, but also wanted to take me on a date?

Oh, yeah. I was in big trouble.

~*~

On our first date, I found out he is sixteen years older than I am. The age gap scared me little, but I was already too infatuated with him to really give a shit.

After three months, I found out he is the Vice President of his father’s Fortune 500 Company, Pratt Industries. At the time, I had no idea what Pratt Industries was, so I Googled it and found out it’s a very successful real estate business. I knew Spike was always dressed in expensive suits and clothing, but I had no idea what kind of money he had.

After six months, I found out that he is married.

~*~

Spike arrives at my apartment forty-five minutes late. I’m used to waiting around for him, but that doesn’t mean I like it. I’m sitting on my new overstuffed couch -a couch Spike bought me- eating popcorn and watching television when he walks through the door. I hate it when Spike gives me expensive “presents.” I’m not with him for his money. He has offered too many times to buy me a bigger apartment, and I always turn him down, angry at the extravagant offer. The couch he had delivered one day while I was at school. When I called him up, furious because I liked my old, worn-out couch, he just laughed and told me if he was going to have to sit on my couch it was going to be a nice one.

Spike puts his keys on the counter that separates the small kitchen from the smaller living room and joins me on the couch. He tries to kiss me, but I shrug him off.

“You’re late,” I tell him in a calm voice, like I’m tired of his shit.

“Sorry, baby.” It’s always ‘baby’ when he wants sex. He kisses my neck. “You know how things come up.”

“And you know I hate waiting for you.”

“Touché,” he responds with a chuckle. “I came over as soon as I could. Don’t be mad at me.” He takes my hand, kissing each knuckle, and I can feel my anger slipping away. Damn his sinister attraction. “Let me take you somewhere nice for dinner.”

I show him my bowl of half eaten popcorn. “I already ate.”

Spike scoffs. “That’s hardly a proper meal. C’mon let’s go get you something decent.”

“I like popcorn,” I tell him, even though forty-five minutes ago I would’ve loved to have dressed up and gone to a fancy restaurant. “I’m tired from working all day.”

“You work too much.” He’s one to talk; he works more than anyone I’ve ever known.

“You know I need the money,” I tell him quietly, because he does know, and I really don’t want this to turn into another argument.

“If you’d just let me pay for school or an apartment, you wouldn’t have to work at that bloody store so much.”

“Can we not have this conversation again?”

“Fine. There are other things I’d much rather be doing, anyway,” he tells me with a leer.

I smile, because it’s been a few days since we’ve been together, and I’m just as aroused as he is. Just his proximity is enough to turn me on. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Spike takes the bowl of popcorn from my hands and places it on the coffee table. He brings me into his embrace, and I’m practically putty in his hands when he starts kissing and nuzzling my neck. All thoughts of his lateness fly out of my mind when he touches me. He pulls me on top of him so I’m straddling his thighs. Bringing his lips back to mine, I kiss him hungrily. It’s crazy how much I miss him when we’re apart.

I can feel how hard he is underneath his pants. I grind down onto his erection, and he moans into my mouth. I love kissing him. I could kiss him for hours and never get tired of it. His hands travel up and down my back, cupping my ass and rocking my hips to increase the friction. We break away from each other, panting for air.

“God, the things you do to me,” he says breathily, as his hands move to unbutton the blouse I’d worn to work that day. He places kisses on the tops of my breasts, and I arch into his mouth begging him silently for more. I’m wearing a front-clasp bra today, so it doesn’t take long before my breasts spring free from the lacy confines of my bra.

“Ohh,” I moan as his mouth captures a nipple. He sucks on it and teases it with his teeth as his hand explores my other breast. As he’s doing that, I’m working on getting his clothes off. Even though he looks amazing in his suits, there are too many layers between his naked chest and me. After pushing off his jacket, I make quick work undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. I throw them to the floor beside the couch, not caring where they land. I run my hands seductively over his hard chest. My fingers pause at his nipples before continuing down to the top of his pants. In seconds, I have his erection free and in my hands.

Spike groans, leaning his head back against the couch as I stroke him. I lean forward, trailing kisses from the column of his throat up to his lips. Never breaking the kiss, his hands cup my ass, and I’m lifted off the couch into his arms. I make a small sound into his mouth in surprise as he carries me into my bedroom. He deposits me on my bed, taking his pants off as I watch. In the beginning, I found it weird that he always goes commando, but now I think it’s quite convenient.

Once his shoes and pants are discarded, he is over me, unbuttoning the black dress pants I wear to work. Along with my matching lace panties, they too are discarded next to his pants on the floor, leaving me bare to his hungry gaze. My legs are hanging over the side of the bed, and Spike kneels on the floor between them. He teases my pussy with his lips until I can’t take it anymore, and I’m begging him for more.

“Please, Spike…more…”

I can feel him smile at my request as he plunges his tongue deep inside. My hands reach out to fist in his hair, forcing him deeper, if that’s even possible. His fingers get in on the action, first inserting one then two inside me as his tongue moves up to my clit. My hips buck into his face as his teeth brush against the sensitive nub. I’m so close to orgasm. My toes curl, and my fingers clench his hair even tighter.

“Yes! Spike…I’m almost there…don’t stop…don’t stop!”

A few more pumps of his fingers and I’m coming. Hard. He licks me one last time before crawling onto the bed next to me. I push him up against the headboard and straddle him, impaling myself on his cock. Spike loves when I’m on top and so do I. I love the feeling of power it gives me as I watch him come undone. I like to think if he does have sex with his wife, and I’d like to think he doesn’t, that she’s boring, old, and doesn’t do the things I do with him.

I lift myself up and down, torturing him with the slow pace. His hands are on my breasts, kneading them just as slowly. When he can’t take it anymore, his hands move to my hips, increasing the speed. I grind my pelvis against his on every down stroke, earning little grunts and groans from him.

In a flash, he switches positions, and I’m lying flat on my back. Spike’s above me, kneeling on the mattress with my legs against his chest. He’s pumping into me so fast and hard that I’m coming instantly. His hand snakes in between our bodies, rubbing my clit as he continues thrusting. I can tell he’s close when he closes his eyes and tenses his jaw.

“Oh, God!” I cry, as he sends me into another blinding orgasm. He yells my name as he comes, thrusting a few more times before releasing my legs and collapsing on top of me. He’s breathing hard, trying to catch his breath. He places a sweet kiss on my lips before he rolls off of me and lies on his back next to me.

Spike reaches for me, bringing me into his embrace. I lay my head on his chest that’s still moving up and down as he tries to pull oxygen into his lungs. I look at the clock on my nightstand; the red numbers telling me it’s only ten. I don’t even consider asking him to spend the night anymore, but that doesn’t stop me from hoping that just this one time he’d stay.

“Can we do something on Saturday?” I ask quietly, my voice still sounding loud compared to the silence in my apartment. Saturday is the two-year anniversary of our first date. I don’t expect him to remember, but it would be nice if we could do something special.

“Can’t, kitten,” he tells me apologetically, kissing the top of my head.

I don’t look up at him. I don’t want him to see the disappointment in my eyes. “Ok. No big deal.”

“Sorry, love. I’ve got some stupid party to attend that night. I don’t know how late it will go, though. Maybe, I can come over after.”

I disentangle myself from his embrace, reaching for the robe hanging on the post of my bed. I keep my eyes trained on tying the sash. “Sure. Whatever.” I don’t make it two steps before he’s pulling me back onto the bed.

“Don’t be mad, baby,” he says, kissing the back of my neck. “This isn’t something I can get out of.”

“I know. I’m not mad,” I assure him. And I’m not. Maybe, disappointed, but not mad. I can walk away from him if I don’t like it. As he pulls me back into bed, I know I won’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

~*~

On Saturday I have the early shift. Working at Bloomingdales in the make-up department is not my idea of a dream job, but it pays the bills. And this morning, we are booked solid with clients. It’s still early, so it’s just me and Cordelia Chase working the counter. Harmony Kendall is scheduled to come in around noon to relieve us for lunch breaks. It still surprises me how close I’ve become to both of them. They aren’t exactly girls I would’ve been friends with in high school, or even college. But I wasn’t in Sunnydale anymore, and I can use all the friends I can get.

Cordy is busy chatting away with her client, when I hear the woman say Spike’s name. My head snaps up from the client I’m working on to look at this woman. She looks rich, around fifty and oh my God is she Spike’s wife?

“That sounds like fun,” Cordy is saying in a tone that only I know means she couldn’t care less, but to the client it sounds like she’s really interested. “Where is it?”

I can’t hear what the woman is saying because my client is asking me questions. Annoyed, I focus on my client, knowing I can get the details from Cordy later. It takes all my strength and patience to get through the next half hour. As it is, I can’t stop looking over at the woman in Cordy’s chair. The thought that she could be Spike’s wife is making me sick to my stomach.

Finally, both women leave, tipping us both generously. Trying to be cool and collected, I approach Cordy as she’s cleaning up and getting ready for her next client.

“What was that woman’s name?”

Cordy looks up at me, surprised. “Um, it was Elizabeth. Elizabeth something, I can’t remember. Why, do you know her?”

I’m so relieved, but try not to let it show. Cordy is a very perceptive person, and she’s also the last person I would want to find out about me and Spike. “She looked familiar, but I guess she wasn’t who I thought she was.” I wait a few seconds before continuing. “What was she talking to you about?”

“She’s going to some big shindig tonight at the Waldorf. They’re honoring some real estate tycoon for doing something.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

I retreat back to my station, upset and annoyed. Spike was being honored for something, and he hadn’t even told me? What kind of bullshit is that? Two years, and he still can’t share things with me.

That’s when I get an idea -a really stupid idea. An idea that will no doubt get me into trouble.

Part Two

My sister, Dawn, is the only person who knows about Spike and me. Well, she and Spike’s personal assistant, Charles Gunn. He’s never specifically asked me to keep our relationship a secret, but I just don’t have that many close friends to confide in. I introduced Dawn to Spike before I knew he was married. She had no problem with the age difference and was really happy I was happy. It took me almost two months after I learned the truth to tell my little sister about Spike. I’m the big sister; Dawn’s not supposed to be disappointed in my decisions or me. It turns out she was more worried about me than disappointed that I didn’t leave him when I found out. She may not like the situation or Spike, but she’s my sister, and she supports me.

“Buffy, this sounds like a really bad idea.”

“He won’t even see me,” I insist, cradling the cordless phone in the crook of my neck while inspecting my wardrobe, looking for a suitable dress to wear. “There will probably be hundreds of people there. I’ll just slip in, get a look and leave.”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you, curiosity killed the cat?”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not a cat.”

Dawn laughs. “Fine, don’t listen to me! Do you want me to go with you?”

“Nah, I can handle it on my own.” I’m looking in the mirror, holding a long, red strapless dress I wore to a wedding once against my body. It’s really my only option, so I place it on my bed and search for some shoes to match.

“Be careful, and call me as soon as you get home.”

“Hey, I’m the big sister here,” I remind her, even though lately I really don’t feel like I am. “I should be the one worrying about you.”

I can almost hear Dawn rolling her eyes on the other end. “Whatever. Just call me?”

“Okay, okay. Now, tell me what’s new with you.”

~*~

I have never met Drusilla Evans Pratt. I’ve never even seen the woman. But that’s going to change tonight. It’s not one of my smartest ideas, and Spike will probably be furious if he sees me. That’s why I’m going to be extra-careful-incognito-girl.

When I get to the Waldorf Astoria, the place is full of important looking people. Limousines and town cars are pulling up in front of the exclusive hotel. I manage to slip by unnoticed and make my way toward the Empire Room. Luckily, this is more of a mingling type affair and not a sit down dinner, because no one asks me for my name when I walk through the door.

The event is in full swing by the time I get there. I’ve never been to anything like this is my life, and I’m more than a little intimidated. I can’t even think about what will happen if I get caught, so I mill about, trying to catch a glimpse of him.

I walk around the room slowly a few times before I spot him. He looks as gorgeous as ever in an all black tuxedo. My eyes move to look at the woman standing next to him. His hand rests casually on her hip as they speak to another couple and a man. I swear I stop breathing when my eyes land on her face. The brunette woman is rail thin, and her features are delicate, reminding me of a porcelain doll. She’s beautiful, sophisticated, and I feel like I’m wearing a rag compared to her glamorous maroon gown.

I need a drink, so I make my way over to the nearest bar. I down the first Cosmo the bartender gives me and ask for another. Why did I come here? What on Earth possessed me to do such a stupid thing? Why would I want to see Spike with his wife, looking like the king and queen of New York City? If I didn’t know why he wouldn’t leave her before, I certainly do now.

“Looks like you’re having as much fun as I am.”

I turn my head to look at the person talking to me. He’s young, handsome, and smiling down at me. “Not having the best night.” I’m not sure why I tell him or why I’m even talking to him.

“I hate these things. I usually just come to show my face then leave, but I have to stay tonight.”

“Why’s that?” I ask, finishing my drink and signaling for another.

“Because it’s my dad’s party. I’m supposed to play the role of the charming son tonight,” he says it sarcastically before taking a sip of the scotch he’s holding.

“Spike Pratt is your dad?” I knew Spike had kids, but holy shit. I had no clue how old they were.

“It’s not something I brag about, believe me. I’m Angel Pratt.” He extends his hand to me, and I shake it, telling him my name.

“How old are you?” He laughs at my question, and I feel a blush creeping into my cheeks. “I don’t mean to be rude, but your dad doesn’t look old enough to have a son your age.”

“No, it’s not rude at all. I just turned twenty-one.” He winks at me, reminding me too much of his father. “Don’t worry, I get that a lot.”

We talk about mundane things like: where we go to school, where we work, and family. By now, I’m feeling good and buzzed from three strong drinks and talking to Angel has helped me take my mind off Spike for a while. That is, until Charles Gunn interrupts us.

“Mr. Pratt, your father needs to speak to you,” he tells Angel. There’s something about Gunn’s voice. When he speaks, you know he means business.

Angel looks at me apologetically and tells me he won’t be long. I turn to face Gunn and see Spike from over his shoulder, glaring daggers my way.

“Miss Summers, you know you can’t be here.”

I roll my eyes. Of course Spike is kicking me out. He can’t have his dirty little secret around to ruin his nice, shiny life. “Don’t worry, I’m leaving.” I don’t even spare a glance at Spike as I turn and walk from the room.

“I’ll take you home.” The way Gunn says it; it’s not an offer.

Normally, I would have appreciated the ride, Gunn’s really not such a bad guy, but tonight I’m feeling spiteful. “I can manage on my own.”

Gunn stops me, looking down at me. This guy is always so intense. “I don’t think Mr. Pratt would appreciate that.” He keeps his voice low so no one else will hear him.

“Ya know what? I really don’t give a fuck what Mr. Pratt appreciates.” Because he certainly doesn’t appreciate me.

~*~

I don’t go home right away because I’ve got a pretty good buzz going and some more alcohol will help me with my problems. I call Dawn to join me, and I’m relieved when she says it’ll take her a little while. I need some alone time to think.

The bartender saunters over to me. Her jeans are tight and hang low on her hips, and her breasts are just about falling out of the tight top she’s wearing. I order a shot of tequila, and she puts two shot glasses on the bar in front of me.

“You’re pretty dressed up for this dump,” she tells me while pouring the tequila. “Coming from some fancy party?”

We knock back the shots. I wince and suck on the lime wedge before answering. “Yup, real fancy schmancy. Full of lots of important people, ‘cept I’m not one of them.”

She must notice my sour mood, because she pours me another shot. “This one’s on me,” she tells me. “The name’s Faith. Lemme know if you need anything else.”

I’m mad, but mostly I’m mad at myself. I should have just slipped in-took a look at Mrs. Pratt-and been on my merry way. Dawn was right. Curiosity did kill the cat. Or made people do foolish things. I take my free shot just as my sister slides onto the stool next to me.

“I’m guessing it didn’t go well,” she says, seeing the two empty shot glasses in front of me.

“He had me kicked out.”

Dawn lets out a slow breath. I can tell at times like this that she’s wondering what I’m doing with a guy like Spike. It’s not like I’ve never wondered the same thing. I’m glad she never asks me, because I don’t have an answer.

“Was this before or after you saw her?”

“Actually, it was while I was talking to his son.”

“You met Angel Pratt?” she asks like we’re talking about Johnny Depp or Brad Pitt.

“You knew Spike had a son -a twenty-one year old son- and you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to know.”

She had a point there. Up until tonight, I’d made a point not to probe into Spike’s family life.

“What was he like?”

Dawn is looking giddy, like she wants to live vicariously through my experience. I roll my eyes. “Dawn, I’ve been in a relationship with his father for the past two years. Meeting Angel Pratt wasn’t exactly a swoon-worthy experience for me.”

“Excuse me, not all of us are into old guys.”

She’s smiling, so I know she’s just teasing me. “What can I say? I must have daddy issues.”

“Oh, gross!” She starts making gagging noises, and I order her a drink, even though she’s not old enough.

~*~

When I get back to my apartment, it’s after one in the morning. Calling Dawn had been a good idea, because she always manages to put me in a better mood. I’m tired, a bit tipsy, and all I want to do is rip this dress off and crawl into bed.

I stop in the kitchenette on my way to bed to get a glass of water and some aspirin. I’m not drunk, but I have work in nine hours, and I’d rather be safe than sorry. When I walk into my bedroom, I notice that I’m not alone in the apartment.

I take off my jewelry and let my hair down, not even bothering to look in his direction.

“What are you doing here?”

Spike’s sitting on the edge of my bed, and I can feel the tension rolling off of him. He’s mad, but so what? So am I.

“What did you think you were doing tonight?” he asks. His voice is calm, but I can still hear the anger underneath.

“I just wanted to see her,” I admit, because I’m too tired to play games. I take off my dress and put it back on the hanger. Stepping out of my heels, I reach for my robe, wrapping it protectively around my nearly naked body before looking at him. His jacket is off and his tie hangs undone around his neck. He looks like he’s been here for a while.

“Where have you been?”

Great, now he’s gonna do the jealous thing, because I didn’t just watch him play the doting husband to perfection a few hours earlier. He’s such a chauvinist sometimes it makes me want to slap him.

“Out.”

“You’ve been out for nearly three hours. Who were you with?”

“Spike, I’m tired, and I have work in the morning.”

He doesn’t care. “Who. Were. You. With,” he repeats slowly, like I’m a child who doesn’t understand.

“None. Of. Your. Business.” I could easily just tell him I was with Dawn, but I’m pissed off, cranky, and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Spike stands, walking toward me like he’s the predator, and I’m his prey. He doesn’t intimidate me nearly as much as he’d like to. “You are my business, kitten.”

I used to love when he called me ‘kitten’, but now it feels condescending. “Stop treating me like I’m one of your kids!”

He backs me up so I’m leaning against my bureau. Pushing my things aside, he lifts me so I’m sitting on top of the dresser, his fingers sliding beneath my panties to tease me. His lips find mine, and I can’t help but kiss him back.

“This isn’t how I treat my kids,” he tells me, his lips against mine.

My arms wrap around his neck, pulling him even closer and deepening the kiss. I want to show him just how much I’m not a kid. I feel him pull my panties down my legs before he starts undoing his pants. My robe falls apart, and his free hand is caressing my nipples, his thumb moving in circles; I moan into his mouth. He has me suck on his fingers before bringing them back down and lubricating himself.

There’s no time for foreplay, and I feel the tip of his erection teasing at my folds. I’m wet and ready for him when he thrusts deep inside. My legs wrap around his waist as he pumps in and out at a crushing speed. It feels so good, and I’m already so close.

My hands roam his back and his chest, my nails lightly scraping at his perfect skin. It’s one of his rules, no scratching- along with no hickeys, and no biting. But I’m still a little mad. I really don’t give a shit about his rules, and I’m so close to coming that I dig my nails a little deeper into his chest, scraping them down to his stomach. I can tell he likes it, but he still grabs my hands and pulls them away.

“No scratching.”

It sounds like he’s scolding me, and I’m fucking pissed again. I push him away from me, hard, and he goes staggering backwards, falling onto my bed.

“What the fuck?”

“Just get the fuck out, Spike.”

I jump off the bureau and put my robe back in place. Without a second glance his way, I head into the bathroom, slamming the door. I brace myself against the sink and look at my reflection in the mirror. I try to keep the anger, otherwise I’ll feel hurt, and I hate when he’s able to hurt my feelings. It’s too late, but I won’t cry. I gave up on crying over Spike a long time ago.

I don’t hear him leave the apartment, so I assume he’s still on the other side of the bathroom door. Why can’t he just leave me be? Why does he have to be so damn stubborn all the time? I’d like to think it’s because he can’t live without me, but I’m not that naïve anymore.

After I compose myself a bit, I open the bathroom door. Spike’s sitting in the same spot on my bed, but when he hears me open the door he stands up. I don’t even ask him what he’s still doing here; I just walk toward my bed intent on getting some sleep.

Spike steps in front of me, blocking my path. He takes me into his arms, and I let him. “I’m sorry, baby. Don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not.” And it’s the truth. I’m too emotionally and physically exhausted to feel much of anything at this point.

He runs a hand through my hair; he loves my long golden hair. “You know how much I love you.”

“No, you don’t.” It’s my standard response whenever he utters those three little words. As much as I’d like to believe he means them, it’s not possible, and I won’t give him the control of hearing me say them back.

Spike pouts. “It hurts my feelings when you say that, pet.”

“Doesn’t it bother you that I’m practically the same age as your son?”

Spike doesn’t seem surprised by my abrupt change of subject. “No, but I can see it bothers you. My age never bothered you before, but now the age of my children does?”

I don’t answer him because I’m not sure if it’s his son’s age that bothers me or if I’m still upset from seeing him with his wife. “I don’t know,” I finally say because it’s the truth, and the silence is deafening.

~*~

The next day at work I’m about to go on my lunch break, when a familiar blond approaches the counter. After he left my apartment last night, I tossed and turned, barely getting any sleep. I really needed a nap before seeing him again, but I can’t help feeling a little excited at his unexpected visit.

Of course, Harmony goes running over to help him. I stay close enough to hear their conversation, and I can feel his eyes on me.

“I need to buy a present,” he tells Harmony.

I don’t need to look to see Harmony inspect Spike’s left hand for a ring. Spike doesn’t wear his wedding band; it’s not his style, and that’s lucky for me because I don’t need another reminder.

“For your…sister?”

I almost laugh out loud. Harmony is so obvious.

“No, for my girlfriend. I was a right bastard to her, and I have some serious groveling to do.”

“Do you really think buying her make-up will get you out of the dog house?” I speak up. Harmony is glaring daggers at me, but I barely notice her presence.

Spike chuckles. “Maybe not. Any suggestions?” He winks at me when Harmony’s not looking, and I feel the familiar tingle of attraction run through my body.

Before I can respond, Harmony jumps in. “Well, maybe she does. We have a lot of nice, new, expensive things I can show you.” She turns to me, giving me a pointed look. She wants the sale, just as much as she wants Spike’s undivided attention. “Weren’t you going to lunch, Buffy?”

“Right.” I grab my purse and head out of the store and onto the busy New York City street. I start walking toward the nearest Starbucks, and it’s not long before Spike catches up to me.

“You’re empty handed.”

“Told the bint I needed to browse. I don’t think my girl wants make-up.”

His hand brushes against mine, and it’s just a reminder that we can’t hold hands in public. I don’t let it get me down, though. “Your girl doesn’t want a bribe.”

Spike puts a hand over his heart like I’ve hurt his feelings. “Well, then, what does my girl want?”

You.

I don’t answer him, because the one thing that I want, I know I can’t have.

Part Three

On Wednesdays, I go straight from work to school. Unfortunately, these two places are nowhere near each other, so I have to take the subway. I don’t mind the subway. In some parts of the city it’s not too bad, especially in the spring when it’s not so hot you think you’ll suffocate from the combination of the heat and the smell of rotting garbage.

Spike hates the subways.

So I’m not too surprised when I see a limousine with the license plate PRATT4 pull to the curb in front of me. What does surprise me is Angel’s head sticking out the window, not Spike’s.

“You look like you could use a ride.”

Angel is way too happy to see me. I should say no. I’m dating his father. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea.

“Thanks, that would be nice,” I say, sliding in next to him.

“Where to?”

After I tell him, Angel instructs his driver, and we pull back into the New York City traffic.

“Thanks for the ride. This thing gets heavy.” I gesture to my bag.

“Anytime,” he tells me sincerely. “I looked for you when I finished talking to my dad the other night.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I had to go.” More like your father kicked me out for talking to you.

“It’s funny, I was just thinking about you. Then there you are, walking down the street.” He smiles at me, as if it’s the best thing that’s happened to him all year.

“You were thinking about me?” So not good.

Angel moves closer to me, clearly not embarrassed by my blunt question. He’s probably used to college girls, like Dawn, falling all over themselves for his attention. I lean back in my seat, away from him. I don’t want to give him the wrong impression.

My question hangs in the air around us, so I completely change the topic and ask where he’s coming from. He starts telling me about some big meeting, including all the boring details, that I have no interest in hearing, but it’s better than talking about less comfortable topics. I can’t help but be thankful that Spike never bores me with shoptalk.

We are a few blocks away from school when Angel asks if I have time to get a cup of coffee. I have about forty-five minutes before class starts, so I accept his offer, because coffee and a muffin don’t sound so bad right now. Besides, I can think of a much more interesting topic I’d like to be discussing with Angel.

“So what’s it like having the most perfect parents in all of New York City?” I ask him once we’re sitting with our coffees and pastries.

Angel laughs bitterly. “You think my parents are perfect? Far from it.”

“They looked pretty perfect the other night.” I try not to sound as bitter as he does.

“My father is a pompous asshole, and my mother is a raving lunatic. It’s all an act for the benefit of my grandfather. They even live on separate floors,” he tells me quietly, like he’s letting me in on a big family secret.

“Wow,” I say, trying not to show how fucking giddy I am on the inside. “I never would have guessed that.”

“Spike knows how to keep up appearances.”

“You call your father Spike?”

“It suits him, don’t you think?” He continues, because he has no idea that I know Spike well enough to actually answer that question. “Ever since I turned eighteen, Spike became my competition. My grandfather hates scandal, and unfortunately for Spike he has a hard time staying out of it. It’s bad for business.

"I’ve been working my ass off at Columbia to graduate early because my grandfather is sick and won’t hand the company over to me without a degree. I won’t be getting it anyway, because Spike’s apparently wised up, and he’s been staying out of trouble,” he grumbles like a child who won’t be getting dessert after dinner.

“So if Spike gets caught in a scandal, what will happen to him?”

Angel beams. This is clearly something he’d love to have happen. “I’ll be named CEO and President of Pratt Industries, and Spike will work for me.”

I don’t say anything, letting his words wash over me, thinking about Spike and understanding him a little better. Spike may be an arrogant bastard, but he’s worked hard for over twenty years- too hard to have his shit of a son take it from him just because he doesn’t love his wife. But Angel never said that, and I can’t leave this coffee shop without at least asking.

“So you don’t think Spike loves your mother?”

Angel is surprised by my question, but it doesn’t take him long to answer. “Spike only loves himself.”

I really hope that’s not true.

~*~

When things are good, they’re really, really good.

Spike calls me on Friday morning while I’m getting ready for work. I’m still in a good mood from talking to Angel, and I can’t keep the smile off my face. He seems to be in just as good of a mood.

“Morning, pet. Got any plans for tonight?”

“Oh, sorry, I already made plans with my other boyfriend,” I tell him very seriously.

“That’s okay, I’ll just kill him and then you’ll be free to go out with me,” he replies in the same serious tone.

I laugh. “You are a seriously twisted person.”

“I thought that was what you liked best about me.” God, that voice. It turns me into goo, and I’m barely concentrating when he tells me to get dressed up because he’s taking me somewhere nice and to pack an overnight bag.

“Spike, you know I have work tomorrow.”

“Get someone to cover for you.”

“Spike…” He knows I hate taking off work. I barely make enough money to support myself when I work all my hours. Losing a Saturday would seriously set me back.

“I know, I know. Look, if you’re short this month because I’m asking you to take off, I think it’s only fair you let me give you some money.”

I hate taking his money, but he does have a point. “Only if I’m short.”

I don’t have to see him to know he’s grinning on the other end. “Great, I’ll send a car for you around six.”

“Wait, Spike, what’s this for?”

“Didn’t get a chance to celebrate our anniversary properly last weekend.”

I’m so stunned that my mouth is surely hanging open in a very unattractive way. I can’t believe he actually remembered. A huge, happy smile spreads across my face.

“Shit, I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight. Love you, kitten.”

I don’t even care that he called me ‘kitten.’ Maybe, Angel was wrong. Maybe, Spike does love someone other than himself.

~*~
I’m zipping up my overnight bag when there’s a knock on my door. I look over at the clock, smiling at the time- six o’clock on the dot. Rushing to the door, I open it and almost rush into Gunn’s unopened arms. I stop before I embarrass myself, but Gunn already has an amused look on his face.

“I thought you were Spike,” I explain, although it’s pretty obvious.

“Mr. Pratt had business on the island earlier today. He’ll be meeting us when he’s finished.”

“Okay.” Although I’m a little disappointed, nothing can get me down. Spending the night with Spike is a very rare occurrence, one I’m not going to waste getting upset over trivial things. Plus, I’m still floating on cloud nine, just because he remembered our anniversary.

“Where are we going?” I ask as Gunn takes my bag. I do a quick sweep of my apartment, making sure I haven’t forgotten to do or take anything before we leave. I make sure to lock the door before following Gunn down to the double-parked car.

“The Hamptons.”

The Hamptons? This day just keeps getting better and better! I know Spike’s family has a house in the Hamptons, but he’s never taken me there before. Usually, he only goes out there one weekend a month during the summer, to keep up appearances. I’m beyond excited to see the gorgeous Pratt estate, but honestly? He could be taking me to a shack in the middle of the woods and I’d be just as happy.

There is a ton of Friday evening traffic, and it takes us over three hours to get to Bridgehampton. I try to talk to Gunn to pass the time, but it turns out the only thing we have in common is Spike, and that’s not a topic I really want to discuss with him. So I sit back, very comfortable in the Cadillac and look out the window. I hardly ever venture out to Long Island; maybe, once or twice in the two years I have lived in New York. The major highways are nothing to look at, but the landscape closer to our destination is a whole different story.

Each estate we pass is very secluded with lots of shrubbery to keep out prying eyes. Finally, after what seems like forever, we pull up to the Pratt estate. I try my hardest not to look like a wide-eyed tourist, but I have never seen anything like it in my life. It’s dark, but I can still make out the beautiful stonework on the front of the house.

Gunn takes my bag and leads me inside. The foyer is just as grand as the outside and just as bright with a big chandelier hanging from the ceiling. I follow Gunn up the staircase and down the hall, passing many rooms before we stop at one. He opens the door, gesturing for me to step inside. The room is so different from the rest of the house, so distinctly Spike. Whereas the rest of the house is decorated in soft colors, this room is full of black and bright red.

While I am basking in the total Spike-ness of the room, Gunn places my bag on the bed.

“Do you need anything while you wait?”

I smooth down the front of my dress, which thankfully, isn’t too wrinkled from the long car ride. I tell Gunn I’ll be fine on my own and silently hope Spike won’t be too long. Gunn leaves me alone, shutting the door behind him.

Not having much else to do, I explore the large bedroom. The room is nicer than any hotel I’ve ever stayed in. A few days ago, I would have worried that I was about to sleep with Spike in the same bed he shares with his wife, but after my talk with Angel I highly doubt that’s the case. My new knowledge of their situation only heightens my excitement for the night.

I take my toiletry bag down the hall in search of a bathroom. Most of the doors are closed, but I don’t have to go too far before I find what seems to be the only open room in the entire hallway. I check my hair and make-up and touch up my lipstick before putting everything back in the bag.

I look up when I feel two strong arms wrap around me from behind and see Spike looking back at me in the mirror. His arms wrap a little tighter around me as I lean back into his embrace. It seems like forever since things have been easy between us, and I really miss that.

Spike kisses the top of my head. “You look stunning, pet. I know it’s late, but I hope you’re ready to eat.”

“I’m starving. I barely had time to eat anything today,” I admit, feeling my hunger tenfold at the mention of food.

Spike releases me from his arms, taking my hand to lead me out of the bathroom. “Let’s see what we can do to change that.”

Leaving my bag on the counter, I follow him back down the staircase, heading to the back of the house. As we make our way, I can smell something delicious cooking in another room. At the back of the house is a sunroom that must be heated in the cooler months because I can’t feel the crisp night air even though it looks like we are outside. There is a table set for two in the middle of the room with flowers and candles and it’s very romantic. Spike leads me over and pulls out my chair for me before taking his seat.

“Spike, this place is beautiful.”

“It pales in comparison to the way you look when you’re happy. I wish I could make you this happy all the time.”

These moments when Spike is completely honest about his feelings are very rare, and it’s times like this when I know exactly why I want to be with him. I lean across the table, giving him a kiss, because what can I say that won’t ruin the moment?

Someone, one of the staff, interrupts, bringing out what I know is only the first course of our meal. He pours a white wine, most likely handpicked by Spike, into our glasses before leaving us alone again. Spike picks up his glass, and I do the same.

“Happy anniversary, baby.”

Our glasses touch in a toast to the occasion. I don’t hesitate another second before diving into my soup. It’s just as delicious as it smells, and I can see Spike smiling, happy that I’m enjoying every last drop. The salad and entrée are equally as yummy, and by the time dessert comes I’m stuffed. Not one to turn down chocolaty goodness, I take a bite, moaning at how rich it is.

“Ohmygod, this is the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

Spike raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

I swat his arm playfully. “You know what I mean.”

“Are you ready for your present?”

“There’s more?”

“Well, you never let me give you presents, and I think an anniversary is a perfectly good reason for gift giving.” He takes a small box out of his pocket and puts it on the table in front of me.

My breath catches because there is no doubt a ring in that telltale little blue box, but I know it can’t possibly be what I’ve been wishing for. I open it slowly. It’s not the ring, but it is a diamond. Or, more correctly, a four-row band ring with lots of brilliant diamonds. It’s absolutely exquisite and probably cost more than anything I’ve ever owned in my entire life. I can’t take my eyes off of it.

I barely notice when Spike moves his chair next to mine. He takes the ring out of the protective lining of the case and puts it on my right hand ring finger. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” My voice is soft, because I’m still in awe over the beautiful gift, and I can’t stop thinking, what does this mean? I finally tear my gaze from my hand to his face.

Spike cups the side of my face. “I love you, Buffy. I know I don’t always do everything or anything right, and I know you don’t believe me when I say it, but I do.”

I wrap my arms around his neck, leaning forward to capture his lips with mine. We kiss until I’m breathless. I rest my forehead against his and utter the three words I swore I’d never tell him.

“I love you, too.” So much it scares me to death.

~*~

The next morning, Spike takes me to breakfast at a nearly empty restaurant on the water. I can’t help but notice how little he seems to care about being out in public with me. As ecstatic as I am to be able to do normal things with him, it worries me, especially after my conversation with his son.

“What’s on your mind, love?”

I give him a smile. “You.”

I wait until our breakfast comes to approach the subject I’ve been thinking of since last night. “Spike, can we talk. Like really talk?”

He laughs at me. “Really talk? As opposed to…?”

“I want to talk about us.” I pause. “And about you.”

“Buffy, I can see there’s something you’re not saying so just say it.” He’s not angry, but encouraging.

“I spoke to your son the other day,” I blurt out. Real smooth, Summers.

I don’t think I’ve ever been able to shock him like this before. If I weren’t so terrified, the look on his face would be comical. “You did what? When? Why?”

“Well, actually, he approached me. It was nothing. He just offered me a ride on Wednesday.”

“I see.” I can tell he’s trying hard to control his temper. “And what did you all talk about?”

“You,” I say again. “He talked about you and your company.” I pause, bracing myself. “And your wife.”

“Buffy, what is this sudden interest in my family?”

“I don’t know I just needed to know why you’re with me. I wanted to understand you better.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me? It’s rather simple, really. I love you. I don’t love her.” He really did make it sound simple.

I should be happy with that answer, but I press on. “He told me about your father. That he wants to take control of the company from you when your father retires.”

“And that’s all true so what can I tell you that he hasn’t already?” Spike pours himself a cup of coffee. He really looks like he needs it right now.

“I don’t know. It’s just-this ring. And taking me away. And bringing me here. It seems like you’re not trying as hard as you used to, to keep us a secret.”

He looks up at me, more serious than I’ve ever seen him. “Maybe I’m tired of hiding it.”

“What does that mean?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” he admits. “I’ve worked my ass off for twenty-two years. I’m damn good at what I do. But I’m fucking miserable when I’m not with you.”

I take his hand in mine because I know exactly how he feels.

“But if I leave Dru, I’ll lose everything I’ve worked so hard for. What the hell would I do then?”

“Be happy.”

Part Four
I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am to run into Angel on my way home from work Wednesday afternoon. The apple obviously doesn’t fall too far from the tree. It’s almost funny that Angel’s chosen to pursue the same woman his father pursued almost exactly two years earlier. I’m sure Angel wouldn’t find the fact that he’s competing against Spike once again very funny.

Angel pretends it’s a coincidence that he just happened to be walking by the store where I work on the one day of the week he knows what time I get off. I can’t help but be annoyed by his antics. I know it’s not fair, but I also can’t help comparing him to Spike. Spike wouldn’t deny waiting for me; he’d be charming and confident, but not in the cocky way Angel comes off. Angel wants girls to feel like he’s doing them a favor by talking to them, and I’m sure it’s worked for him more times than I care to know.

It’s not working this time.

Angel’s talking about some exclusive club opening he’s going to this weekend when I realize we’ve already made it to the next block. I have to tell him what I should’ve told him last week. I mean the topic never really came up, but I knew he was flirting with me, and I should’ve managed to work it into the conversation.

I stop him mid-sentence, blurting out (not-so-gracefully) “Angel, I have a boyfriend!”

Angel’s face twists in annoyance, but he quickly recovers and laughs. “Geez, Buff, a little presumptuous aren’t ya?”

“Well, I mean you said last week that you were thinking about me and you show up here…a-and you’re all with the flirting…”

“Wow, no offense, but you’re really not my type.” He leans in and says a little quieter, “You’re a little too old for me.”

I should’ve known he was going to be a jerk. “That works out just fine because-” I mimic his earlier actions of leaning in and lowering my voice, “you’re a little too young for me.”

Angel lets out a long whistle, picking up my right hand for further inspection. “This boyfriend of yours must be almost as rich as I am.”

I fidget, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. I try to pull my hand out of his grasp, but he doesn’t let go, still inspecting my ring. I had debated whether or not I should even wear it. People were bound to notice something so flashy, and I really didn’t need anyone questioning where I got such a fine piece of jewelry.

“He does okay for himself.”

Angel finally lets go of my hand. “It was good running into you. Maybe, I’ll see you around.”

“Hopefully not,” I mutter under my breath, watching him hurry away from me.

~*~
After my awkward encounter with Angel, I make my way to Central Park. It’s the week before my final exams, and classes aren’t in session so students can study. During study weeks, I’m basically inaccessible. I lock myself in my apartment, only leaving to go to work or the grocery store. But some days I like to set up a blanket in the park and study with the warm sun shining down.

I haven’t seen Spike since he dropped me off at my apartment on Saturday night. I miss him, but it’s not like I haven’t gone three days without seeing him. I glance down at my ring, remembering just how perfect Friday night had been. After dinner, he took me back to his room and made love to me. We’ve had slow, intense sex before, but nothing like Friday night.

Something has definitely changed between us.

“Nice ring. You’re boyfriend must love you very much.”

“Yeah, he does.” I smile up at him. “Too bad I’m just with him for his money.”

Spike sits down next to me on the blanket, moving one of my textbooks out of his way. “Poor bastard. Does he know?”

“Nope, he’s totally clueless.” I want to kiss him so bad, but I swallow the urge. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Called your apartment. When you didn’t answer, I took a wild guess.”

Sometimes it really surprises me how well he knows me.

“How’s the studying going?”

I groan. “I can’t wait until this is all over! I feel like I’ve been in school my whole life.”

He laughs. “That’s because you have been, princess.” After a pause he continues, off-handedly. “I was thinkin’ I’d come to your graduation ceremony.”

I blink. “You want to come to my graduation?”

“Well, yeah. I wanna see my girl up there gettin’ her diploma.”

“Are you sure? I mean, won’t people wonder why you’re there?”

“I’m hardly some sort of celebrity, Buffy. I doubt anyone there will even know who I am. Besides, it’s not like I’m gonna shag you right there in front of everyone. Nobody has to know I’m there to see you.”

Now, I really wanna kiss him. “Okay, I’ll get you a ticket.”

“How about a study break?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really gotten any studying done today.”

“You’ve gotta eat don’t you? We can go back to your place and order in some food.”

There is no way he just wants to eat dinner, but I’m finding it hard to protest. I’ve been working hard, and I definitely deserve a study break.

“Pizza or sushi?”

~*~
We barely make it into the privacy of my apartment before he’s undressing me. An article of my clothing is removed with each step we take further inside. I fumble with his belt and zipper, only managing to release his erection from its confines before he lifts me up. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist, as he makes the trip toward my bedroom.

Our kisses are fevered; kissing him makes me feel like my whole body is on fire. My hand is stroking his shaft, teasingly brushing the tip, wet with precum, against my wet folds. I let out a surprised gasp into his mouth as my bare back makes contact with the cold wall next to my bedroom door. My free hand moves from where it had been tangled in his hair to open the door for us.

“Can’t wait,” Spike breathes, pushing into me. We both moan before his lips find their way back to mine. His long, agonizingly slow thrusts are a dark contrast to the frenzied way his lips are moving over mine.

“Spike…” I breathe against his mouth, tightening my legs around him, trying to make him go faster.

“What, baby?” He looks at me with a twinkle in his eye. He knows exactly what I want.

“Faster…I need…faster…” My breathing is shallow as his lips move over the sensitive spot on my neck. I’m so close. If he would just go...a little...faster.

When he’s had enough fun teasing me, he starts moving his hips at a more frantic pace. I love it when he takes me like this, up against a wall, all passionate like he can’t hold back. There’s so much passion between us at all times, whether we’re fighting or fucking. Now, that I think about it, it’s been over a week since we’ve fought. That must be a record for us.

It doesn’t take long before I’m biting down on his shoulder to muffle a scream as I climax. I can tell he’s close, and I can feel the familiar stirrings of another orgasm building. “Spike…I’m gonna…come,” I tell him softly in his ear.

“Oh, God, Buffy. I’m close, baby.” His fingers are biting into my outer thighs, and I know I’ll have ten little bruises in the morning, but at the moment I really don’t care.

I’m seconds away from climaxing again, and I want him to come with me. My lips kiss a trail from his shoulder to his ear again. “Love you, Spike.” My words have the desired reaction. Spike roars as his orgasm hits, uncaring who hears his loud exclamation.

We both take a moment to catch our breath. I can feel Spike’s heart pounding through our connected chests. After a minute, he opens the door to my bedroom, and we walk through, still attached. We collapse on the bed in a heap. He’s careful to roll onto his side, so he doesn’t crush me.

It’s not until much later, after Spike’s gone home, and I’m alone in my bed that I smile.

He didn’t yell at me for biting him.

~*~
The rest of the week and weekend passes by in a blur of working and studying. By the time I sit for my finals, I can practically recite every word from my textbooks and study guides. I’m confident I did well on all my exams and that I’ll pass all my classes for the semester. I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders, like all my hard work was well worth it.

Spike calls during the week, wanting to take me out to celebrate on Friday night, but I already have plans to spend time with Dawn. He doesn’t push, just says he misses me, and can’t wait for my finals to be over. I couldn’t have agreed with him more.

I can’t remember the last time Dawn and I went out for some sisterly bonding time. Her schedule is even more demanding than mine, which doesn’t allow for a lot of free time. By Friday, I’m more than ready to celebrate with a girly cocktail. Dawn suggests getting dressed up and going down to The Host- a fancy hotel restaurant/bar owned by the famous singer, Lorne. A night out -dressed to kill- is just what the doctor ordered.

It takes me forever to find a cab, and when I finally get to The Host, I’m ten minutes late. Dawn is already at the bar, two Cosmos sitting in front of her. The wonders of her fake I.D. never cease to amaze me. I swear I get carded more often than she does. Ever since she got taller than me at the age of seventeen, everyone thinks she’s the older sister.

Catching up with Dawn is always a good time. She tells me horror stories of going to a school where the majority of students are either girls or gay. It’s times like these I really wish my mom could see how close Dawn and I have become. The relationship we have now is a far cry from the bickering teens we were when she was alive. If only…but tonight is so not the time for such depressing thoughts.

It’s not long before two guys approach us at the bar. Dawn has turned into such a flirt. I wanna to roll my eyes at her, but instead I paste on a fake smile and laugh at something one of them says. One of them asks if they can buy us a drink, and before I can even open my mouth to reply, Dawn is telling them yes. I shoot her a look because I am so not into this. I understand the look she shoots back my way and resign myself to being her wing-woman for the night.

“I’m Riley,” the taller one introduces himself, extending his hand. He looks so awkward standing next to his friend, who is flirting shamelessly with Dawn.

Apparently, Riley and his friend are in the army, but I’m only half listening, so I really have no clue what they’re doing here in town. I smile and nod in all the right places, hoping he gets bored and moves on to someone else. Unfortunately, I’m not that lucky, and he seems incredibly interested in me.

“You don’t sound like you’re from New York,” he tells me. He has the goofiest grin I’ve ever seen.

“Neither do you.”

He chuckles. “You got me there. Born and raised in Iowa.”

“We’re from California.”

“What in the world would make you leave the sunshine state to come to this polluted city?”

The sunshine state? Who even says that? Isn’t Florida the sunshine state?

“Our mom died.”

The look on his face is comical. I almost feel bad for pulling the dead mom card, but God is he annoying!

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes profusely. “I had no idea.”

I shrug and take a sip from my glass. I seriously need to get away before he starts asking questions, so I excuse myself to the ladies room. On my way, I see Spike being led to a table in the restaurant section. It’s so crowded that I can’t see who he’s with, but it’s not like I can just go up to him anyway, so I continue on my way to the restroom.

Ten minutes later, which is hopefully more than enough time for the two soldiers to move on, I make my way back to Dawn. I scan the crowded restaurant for a sign of Spike, but I don’t see him at any of the tables. Luckily, when I reach Dawn she’s alone, but I can see her glaring across the room at someone. It isn’t until I’m next to her that I can see who she’s looking at.

Spike.

“Who the hell is that?” Dawn asks, her words dripping with attitude.

It’s exactly what I’m thinking, but I don’t want her to know that. Besides, I’m sure Spike conducts a ton of business deals at fancy, somewhat romantic, restaurants with gorgeous, busty brunettes in tight, skimpy dresses.

“Probably a client.” I try to keep my tone carefree, but it sounds thin to my own ears.

“She looks pretty friendly,” Dawn points out as the woman obviously flirts with Spike, touching his arm and thrusting her chest at him. To his credit, Spike isn’t overtly flirting back, but he also doesn’t look bothered by the attention.

“I don’t know who she is, but I trust him,” I tell my sister with conviction. “Look, I didn’t even get a chance to show you the beautiful present he gave me for our anniversary.”

Dawn’s eyes are round as saucers when I thrust my hand under her nose, showing her the ring. “Oh my God, that’s real??” Her eyes bounce from my hand to my face and back again. “Holy shit, Buffy, I thought it was costume.”

I laugh at her reaction, assuring her that they most certainly are real diamonds.

“Wow,” she breathes. “I just…wow. What does this mean?”

Even though it’s the same question that popped into my head the night he gave me the ring, I brush it off. “Does it have to mean something?”

She doesn’t answer right away. “I guess not,” she says finally. “I just don’t get it, Buffy. I mean, yeah, he gives you this beautiful ring, but right now he’s clearly on a date with another woman.”

“It’s not a date,” I insist. It can’t be a date. Spike loves me. He wouldn’t cheat on me. That argument would hold up a lot better if he wasn’t already cheating on his wife with me, but he doesn’t love his wife.

“It sure looks like one.”

“What do you want me to do, Dawn? Go over to his table and cause a big scene?”

Dawn doesn’t answer. Maybe, she finally gets that things aren’t always so cut and dry.

I look back over to Spike’s table, Dawn’s suspicions on the forefront of my mind. He and the brunette are toasting to something, and her lips graze his cheek before taking a sip from the champagne flute. I can’t stop thinking about how much it does look like a date, and what if her suspicions are right?

“I have to go home.”

Dawn reaches out to stop me. “No, Buffy, don’t go. We were having such a good time before.”

“I’m not feeling so great anymore.”

“We can go somewhere else. It’s too early to go home already.”

I reach for my purse, knocking my glass to the floor. The sound of the glass breaking is heard over the noisy chatter in the large room. I don’t need to look up to see his eyes on me.

“I’m sorry, Dawnie.” I plead with her with my eyes to understand. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I promise her over my shoulder, as I rush out of the bar into the lobby of the hotel.

Outside the air is crisp. I rub my bare arms, as I walk down the street trying to hail a cab.

“Buffy!”

I pick up the pace, really not wanting to have this conversation right now. I really wish he hadn’t seen me.

“Buffy, stop!” He’s faster than me in my three-inch heels and catches up in a few quick strides. He’s standing in front of me now, blocking my path. “Are you okay?”

Am I okay? No, I am most certainly not okay. “I’m fine.”

“What was that inside? You dropped your drink and took off. You looked upset.” He looks genuinely concerned, and I’m almost sorry to have doubted him, but then I remember the busty brunette kissing him, and I’m fuming.

“What exactly was going on in there? Who’s the bimbo, Spike?” I back away from him and put my hands on my hips.

Spike sighs, running a hand through his hair. “That’s what this little outburst is about?”

“What little-?”

“The bimbo is a potential client who happened to just have inherited very expensive properties throughout the city. That—inside—is called a business meeting.”

His exasperated, condescending tone only makes me angrier. “Yeah, it seemed real professional. What are you gonna have to do to get her business?”

“This is ridic—“

“I saw her kiss you, Spike! And you weren’t exactly pushing her away!”

Spike grabs my arms, pulling me close to him, so I have no choice but to look up into his intense gaze. When he speaks, his voice is firm and low. “Buffy, I love you, but you haven’t got the first clue about business, so don’t go instructing me on how to conduct mine.”

I don’t even notice Spike’s Cadillac next to us until he opens the back door, ushering me inside. “Take her home, Charlie,” he barks out before closing the door.

I close my eyes, and lean my head against the leather seat, feeling hurt and a little foolish.

Part Five

Dawn Summers is always getting herself into trouble. Before she could walk or talk, our mom jokingly called her ‘Dawn the Menace’ because she was constantly tugging on table skirts or pulling someone’s hair. As she got older, she always messed up my things, breaking or ruining them. I would scream at her; she would cry, and I would usually be the one to get in trouble for being mean to my little sister.

When Dawn was six, she wandered off in the supermarket, and my mom had security running around looking for her. When we finally found her hiding under a display table, it was my fault, because I was supposed to be holding her hand. At the age of twelve, Dawn regularly read my diary and told my mom when I lost my virginity. Mom had to literally hold me back from killing her for that. At fifteen, Dawn sneaked out of the house on Halloween and was brought home by neighborhood security for egging some poor old man’s house to impress some older guys.

Needless to say, not much Dawn does surprises me anymore. Or so I thought.

Sunday morning Dawn calls asking me to meet her for breakfast. Even though I have graduation in the afternoon, and I’m still in a bad mood from my fight with Spike the night before, I agree, because I feel bad for walking out on her. Something in her voice tells me she really needs to talk, and I’m a little nervous to find out what sort of trouble she’s gotten herself into now.

After we’re seated at our favorite café, the first words out of her mouth are, “I think I did something really wrong last night.”

I don’t have much of a reaction, because I was expecting her to be dramatic. “What happened?”

She looks really nervous, fidgeting in her seat and wringing her hands. “Okay, before I tell you, you have to promise you won’t hate me for it.”

“Dawn, I could never hate you,” I assure her. Inwardly, I’m wondering what she could have done to cause such panic.

“Because I so didn’t mean for anything bad to happen. N-not that anything bad has happened. But it might. S-so that’s why I’m telling you.”

“Telling me what?” I reach across the table to still her hands. “Spit it out, Dawn. You’re starting to scare me.”

“Last night, after you left, I stayed at the bar. I just wanted to see how Spike would act with his date.”

“Client.”

“Right, whatever. But he didn’t stay very long, and I swear I was just gonna finish my drink and go home.”

“But?”

Dawn takes a deep breath. “But before I can leave, someone’s behind me, asking if he can buy me another drink. I swear I was gonna say no!”

“Dawn!” I don’t have the slightest idea where she’s going with this, and I’m getting more annoyed with every passing minute she drags the story out.

“It was Spike’s son, Angel.”

She looks so guilty right now, I almost laugh. “So you had a drink with Angel? It’s really not a big deal, Dawnie. It’s not like you’re dating him or anything, because that would be a little weird. You’re not dating him are you?” She shakes her head, her gaze firmly locked on something in her lap. “Then what harm could one drink do?”

“A lot,” she whispers, so low I almost don’t hear her.

I can’t take the suspense any longer. “Dawn, what did you do?” I ask, angrily.

“I told you how just about every girl in my school has this huge crush on him right? Well, I couldn’t believe he wanted to hang out with me, so of course I let him buy me a drink then another one and another one, until I was really drunk. Then he told me he knew all about you and Spike and how he couldn’t believe Spike would be on a date with another woman.

“But now that I think about it, I don’t know if Angel actually knew anything. He let me do all the talking, and I might have said a lot more than I should have.”

I can’t breathe. I must be dreaming because there is no way what I just heard really happened.

“Buffy, please say something,” Dawn pleads.

“How could you?” I finally ask, fuming. “How could you do that to me? I trusted you to keep our secret!”

“He tricked—“

“Don’t! Don’t even try to defend yourself. Do you have any idea what you’ve just done? How majorly you’ve fucked up Spike’s life?”

“So?” Dawn throws back, becoming angry herself. “I’ve had to listen to you cry over him for the past two years. Do you really think I care what happens to him?”

“You should. You can’t just go around ruining people’s lives because you don’t like them!”

“You’re right, I don’t like him. He’s a bad person, Buffy, and you’re better off without him. Just think about all the things he’s done to you! Do you really want to be with a person like that?”

I don’t answer, because she’s not entirely wrong. Spike has done bad things. I have cried over him. But this isn’t about him.

“You didn’t just betray Spike, you betrayed me. I’m your sister, and you’re supposed to have my back no matter what your opinion is.” I look at her sadly because nothing Spike has ever done to me has hurt this badly. “I’m sorry I thought you were grown up enough for me to confide in you.”

“Buffy—“

I stand up. Suddenly, I’m not feeling very hungry.

Dawn grabs my arm, halting my exit. “You promised you wouldn’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Dawn, but I don’t like you very much right now, either.”

~*~

The day I graduated from high school was a beautiful, sunny day in Southern California. My mom and Dawn were in the audience watching, as I crossed the stage to receive my diploma. I could hear them cheering for me, louder than two people should have been able to. Afterward, I celebrated with my two best friends, Willow and Xander, and Willow’s boyfriend, Oz, at Sunnydale’s local hangout, the Bronze. We danced the night away, carefree, and ready to embark on the next stage of our lives.

The day I graduated from college was bittersweet. It was a little over two years since I lost my mom. Willow and I sat among the other graduates while Xander, his girlfriend, Anya, and Dawn cheered us on from the crowd of family and friends. I didn’t even bother inviting my absentee father. My real family was there, and that’s all that mattered.

The day that Dawn graduated from high school, Willow, Xander, Anya and I sat in the crowd amongst the other parents watching their children leave the protective world of childhood. Dawn invited our father to her graduation, but in typical fashion, he didn’t show. I knew Dawn was crushed, even though she put on a brave front. After the ceremony, we all went back to the house, which had already been sold. It was another bittersweet day, with happiness for Dawn’s success and tears for friends leaving.

On the day of my graduation from graduate school, I should be at the salon getting my hair and nails done. I should be putting on the pretty dress I bought especially for the occasion. I should be getting into a cab to meet Dawn at NYU. I should be searching the crowd for bright blond hair and dazzling blue eyes. I should be celebrating with Dawn over drinks and later on with Spike in my bed.

Instead, on the day of my graduation from graduate school I’m packing a bag to get the hell out of New York City.

I’m not leaving, because I’m mad at Dawn. I’m not leaving, because I feel like a fool for not trusting Spike. I’m not leaving, because there are a dozen reasons why I probably shouldn’t trust him.

I’m leaving, because it’s the right thing to do.

I take out my smallest suitcase, and start shoving only the essentials inside. I call Willow to make sure it’s okay for me to stay with her when I get back to Sunnydale. I haven’t spoken to Willow in a while, so her surprise is completely understandable. She doesn’t ask too many questions, just makes sure I’m all right and tells me to text her my flight information.

As cowardly as it is, I decide to wait until I’m back in California before telling Dawn or Spike. Speaking with either of them before I go will just make it so much harder for me to leave. Of course, as these thoughts go through my head, there’s a knock on my door. I pray that it’s someone, anyone besides them, which is a good chance because both of them have keys and usually don’t knock.

No such luck.

From the other side of the threshold, Spike thrusts a big, beautiful bouquet of flowers into my arms. Walking past me into the apartment, he plants a kiss on my lips and heads toward the kitchen. “Ready for your big day?” he asks. “I thought we could start the celebration a little early.” Only then do I notice the champagne and flute glasses in his hands.

His smile fades when he notices me staring blankly at him, my feet still firmly planted by the door. “Still mad about last night?”

Last night? Yeah, I probably should be mad at him for once again treating me like a child, but there are bigger issues at hand right now. I don’t want our last conversation to be an argument.

He puts down the bottle of champagne, looking across the apartment into my bedroom at the still open suitcase lying on my bed. Confused eyes look into mine, confirming whatever suspicions he has.

“Buffy, last night – it wasn’t what you thought! She was just a client. I didn’t even stick around very long after you left.”

“I know.” My voice is soft and calm, a distinct contradiction to the uneasiness I’m feeling inside.

“But you’re leaving?”

I nod.

“For how long?”

I drop my gaze to the floor. My lack of response is enough of an answer.

“If this isn’t about last night, then why?”

I cross the room to sit on the couch, placing the bouquet on the coffee table. A few seconds later, Spike joins me. I have no idea how I’m gonna tell him about Dawn and Angel. Even though I’m mad at her, she’s still my little sister, and my automatic instinct is to protect her.

“Angel knows about us.”

“What? How?”

“Last night he got my sister drunk and tricked her into telling him. He told her he knew everything, and after a few drinks she was feeling chatty.”

I brace myself for his anger, but it doesn’t come. He sits next to me, silent for a long minute, obviously thinking. I need a reaction. Is he mad at Dawn? At me? At Angel? Does he wish he never started this thing with me? Did I ruin his life? Did Dawn? Will Angel?

I hold my breath, willing him to say something, anything. I would prefer his rage to this eerie silence.

“Okay,” he finally says.

“Okay? Okay what?”

“I don’t know exactly. I just feel okay. Everything’s okay.”

“Have you gone crazy? Everything is definitely not okay!” I get up, pacing in front of the coffee table. “We’ve gotten careless. Going out to the Hamptons,” I start ticking away each point with a finger. “Outside my job, in the park. My God this ring just screams ‘Buffy has a sugar daddy’.”

“You’re righ—“

“Wanting to come to my graduation,” I continue. “You’ve gotten careless, Spike, and now Angel knows.”

“I would’ve thought this is what you’ve been wanting. Now, that Angel knows there’s really no reason for us to hide anymore.”

“But won’t he try to use this against you?”

“I’m sure he will.”

I stare at him incredulously. He’s sitting back against my couch, like we’re discussing the weather and not his life. “That’s exactly why I’m leaving. Without me around, his accusations are baseless.”

“Buffy, pet, that’s ridiculous. He could use this against me whether or not you’re here.”

“And you’re willing to take the chance that you’ll lose everything you’ve worked for over this?”

“Over you, well, yeah.”

I want to slap him. It’s like he’s a pod person, and someone has taken over his body. “I’m not going to be the reason you lose everything,” I tell him.

“Work isn’t everything.”

“Since when?” It’s taken him two years and me walking away for him to say all the things I’ve always wished he’d say.

He walks around the coffee table and takes me in his arms. “For a while now,” he tells me, looking down at me seriously.

This is exactly why I didn’t want to see him before I left. He’s the only person in this city with the power to get me to stay. “You say that now, but if you lose your place in the company you’ll regret it. Maybe, not today or tomorrow, but you will eventually. I don’t want you to look back ten years from now and hate me for being the reason you lost it all.”

“I could never hate you, baby.”

As hard as it is to do, I disentangle myself from his embrace. I need to be strong, resolved in my decision to go. He follows me into my room where I zip up the suitcase. I take one last look around. I can send for the rest of my things once I get settled in Sunnydale.

“Don’t do this.”

I can’t look at him, because I don’t want to see the pained look on his face.

“I have to.”

"No, you don’t.” He pulls me back into his arms, kissing me hard, trying to convey how much he needs me to stay.

I kiss him back, wanting to get lost in his kisses, but the thoughts that fueled my decision are a running mantra in my head. He’ll hate you, resent you.

I pull back, leaning my head against his chest, needing to smell his familiar scent. “I have to go now,” I say into his chest before exiting his embrace.

“Let me drive you at least,” he pleads, needing more time to convince me not to go.

I give him a sad smile, rolling my luggage toward the door. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I can’t resist giving him one last kiss. It breaks my heart when I feel a lone tear slide between our faces, and I realize it’s his.

“I really do love you, Buffy,” he calls, as I walk out the door.

I know.

Part Six

I continue to stare out the front door into the hallway long after Buffy is gone. My wounded heart is screaming at me to run after her–to fight for her and make her stay with me. It must be my brain that keeps me rooted inside her apartment, because I don’t move.

Collapsing onto the couch–the couch I bought for her that she didn’t even want–I realize why I’m not running to stop her. Because as much as I want to make her stay, I know I sure as hell don’t deserve her. Now, she’s finally realized it, and she’s never coming back.

I feel sick. Nothing in all my forty years has ever felt this bad. I want to get up and throw things. I want to cry until I can’t breathe. Instead, I sit staring blankly at the flowers sitting haphazardly on the coffee table.

The phone rings on the kitchen counter. For a second I hope it’s her calling, but I know it won’t be so I don’t bother getting up. She’s the only person in the world I want to talk to right now. I hear a woman’s voice flood the apartment and realize her sister is leaving a message. It sounds like the girl’s close to tears, pleading for her sister to call her back, so she can apologize.

I can’t even find it in myself to be angry with this girl, who is obviously distraught over what she’s done, because I’m the only person to blame. I can’t even blame Angel, the bastard. He’s hated me for years, and I can’t say I blame him much. I don’t particularly like myself very much right now.

All I can think about is the millions of things I did wrong over the last two years. Every stupid fight, all the times my rotten temper got in the way. Buffy deserves so much better than me, but being the selfish bastard I am, I never would have left her. Not in a million years, because she’s the only good thing in my life. Or she was until she walked out of it.

I don’t know how long I sit in the same position, but it must be hours because the room is dark. The only light is coming from the dimly lit hallway. I haven’t eaten all day, but the thought of getting up is not appealing. I don’t ever want to get up, because if I do it’ll quite possibly be the last time I’m ever in this apartment, and that thought tears me up inside.

My thoughts, as they have all day, drift back to Buffy. I wonder where she is right now. Probably in the air somewhere close to California. I wonder where she’ll stay once she lands: in a hotel, with an old friend, with an old boyfriend?

Too lost in my own thoughts, I tune out the sounds coming from the hallway. People coming and going all day barely registers in my grief-addled brain. The sounds from the busy city streets below are white noise at this point.

So it’s not surprising that I don’t hear her get off the elevator and walk down the hall. Or see her nervously walk into the open, dark apartment. It’s not until she turns on a lamp and closes the door that I even realize she’s here.

She’s here. Buffy’s here. Buffy’s back, and I don’t do anything but sit with what must be a look of awe and disbelief on my face.

Her only response is to shrug her shoulders. “I couldn’t go.”

She couldn’t go? What does that mean, exactly? There were no available flights? She didn’t have enough money? Not that any of it really matters. All that matters is that she’s here, and please, God, let her stay.

“Where were you?” I manage to croak.

“I’ve been sitting at JFK for the last seven hours. I even bought myself a ticket,” she says, holding up a boarding pass. “But, I just couldn’t get on the plane.”

“I couldn’t leave.” I don’t know why I tell her, but the words just fall out of my mouth.

“I see that.” She laughs, softly. “You couldn’t even get up to close the door?”

“Spike, I love you,” she tells me before I can even respond. “I know our relationship probably doesn’t make sense to anyone else. Hell, it doesn’t even make sense to me half the time.”

I hope there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere.

“We have so much to talk about and work through.” Her eyes meet mine, and I can see unshed tears in them. “But can’t that wait until tomorrow?”

Before she even finishes the question, I cross the room and lift her into my arms. Her legs instinctively wrap around my waist as I hug her close, so close I’m probably cutting off her air supply. She doesn’t complain though, just wraps her arms tightly around my neck.

“I love you so much,” I say into her soft neck.

Her lips find mine, and she kisses me softly. “Take me to the bedroom,” she says with her lips still against mine. “Make love to me, Spike.”

I don’t hesitate, hurrying into the other room. Our hands are everywhere–quickly removing shirts, pants, bras, whatever’s in the way. We don’t stop until both of us are completely naked on the bed. I can’t stop kissing her, so grateful just to have her back here with me.

She moans in my ear as my lips make their way down her throat to her neck. I nip at the spot I know drives her crazy while my hands travel down her body. I caress her breasts, first with my hands, then with my mouth, taking one sensitive nipple into my mouth at a time. Her back arches into my touch, begging me for more. There’s no teasing today, no denying her of anything, so I suck harder.

“Spike.” She draws out my name, breathing hard, her hands in my hair.

Raining kisses over her chest and breasts, my fingers find their way to her wet lips. She bucks her hips into my hand, and I don’t hesitate before inserting two fingers. My mouth moves back to hers, swallowing her groan, and my thumb circles her clit. I don’t stop until she’s coming against my hand, crying out her release.

I lean back to position myself at her entrance. Hooking my arms under her shoulders, I look down into her big green eyes. My hips thrust slowly in and out. I make love to her, showing her with my body what my words are telling her.

Her hand reaches up to caress the side of my face, a single tear sliding down her cheek. “Don’t cry, baby,” I whisper, feeling like such an ass. I wish I had treated her better, shown her just how much I care. Instead, I let my own fucked up life get in the way, fucking with her head and her heart in the process.

Her only response is to pull my head down to hers. I can feel her getting closer, and I start moving my hips a little faster. She moves her legs up to wrap them around my waist. I hold onto her tighter, thrusting harder, our chests rubbing together, both moving closer and closer to orgasm.

“Come on, baby. I need you to come with me.”

“Ungh, Spike,” she grunts because it’s probably hard for her to breathe with my weight on top of her. “Harder...yes, just like that.”

Her inner muscles clamp down around my cock. I know she’s close because my name is a litany from her lips, and she’s getting louder the closer she gets to her climax. I pound into her as my own orgasm approaches, and she comes just before I do.

I give her a deep, passionate kiss. I don’t want to roll off her, but I know my weight is practically crushing her. I pull her with me, lying on my back with her draped across my chest.

“That was…” she trails off, like she can’t find a word in her vocabulary for what just transpired between us. “I mean, if that’s what happens when I threaten to leave, maybe I should do it more often.”

“Or I could just shag you like this every day, so you’d never wanna leave.”

She sighs contentedly, nestling against my chest. I kiss the top of her head and tell her, “Things are going to be different.”

She looks up at me, her expression both hopeful and sad at the same time. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she responds with a smile.

“I’m serious, Buffy. I’ll never give you a reason to leave me again.”

~*~

That was six months ago, and so far he’s kept his promise.

That night was the first time Spike stayed the night. There haven’t been too many nights since then that we’ve spent apart.

When we finally got out of bed the next morning, the first thing I did (after a cup of coffee) was check my answering machine. I found the dozen or so messages from Dawn. The first couple she was looking for me, wondering if she was still welcome at my graduation ceremony. Around the third or fourth message, there were tears bordering on panic, begging for my forgiveness. With each message after that, her hysteria increased.

Although it was very typically dramatic for Dawn, the messages made me feel bad, and I didn’t even get through them all before I was picking up the phone and dialing the familiar digits. The conversation turned into me consoling Dawn, assuring her that I was okay, and didn’t hate her. We met in person the next day, and I explained to her what had happened between Spike and me. I apologized for burdening her with the troubles in our relationship, because did I really expect my sister to like Spike when I was constantly complaining about him?

Last month, when Spike’s divorce was finalized, he asked me to move in with him. I was a little reluctant at first, because I thought it would set back all the progress we’d made. It was stupid, though, to be so hesitant, because Spike was basically living in my apartment. He’d left Drusilla and their place months before, and although he’d officially moved into a hotel, he was spending most nights at my place.

A week ago, we moved into a beautiful three-bedroom apartment on 5th Avenue across from Central Park. I wasn’t all that comfortable with Spike just buying us an apartment, but I realized that if I’m going to be with him I’m gonna have to get used to the fact that he has a lot of money and likes to use it.

“Spike?” I call, walking through the front door. It’s almost seven, and I’m just getting home from a very long day at the office. After graduation, it didn’t take long before I found a job working for the Department of Social Services. I help women in need of refuge from domestic violence. I love my job, even if the days are long, and the pay isn’t great.

“In here, baby.”

I find Spike in the kitchen, spooning take-out onto two plates. I give him a kiss hello, laughing into his lips as my stomach makes itself known. The smell coming off the plates is more than delicious to my stomach, which only had a muffin and coffee as nourishment that day.

“Hungry, pet?” he asks, playfully.

“Starved!” I tell him, taking a bite from an eggroll and heading to the table.

As we eat, I can’t help sneaking glances at him. It’s astounding how much he’s changed over the last couple of months. For one, he’s so much happier than I’ve ever seen him. That had a lot to do with leaving Drusilla and their sham of a marriage. He let her keep the apartment, and she got quite a large sum of his money in the divorce.

Spike’s father was not too happy when he learned Spike had moved out of the apartment. He threatened to hand the company over to Angel, which turned out to be a huge bluff. Spike has a ton of contacts in his industry, and when they heard he would be leaving Pratt Industries, the offers came flooding in. Not especially happy with the idea of leaving his legacy in Angel’s hands, Spike’s father asked him to stay with the company. Three months ago, the eldest Pratt officially retired, leaving Spike to head up the company.

After dinner, I take a nice, relaxing bath. Spike joins me once he finishes a phone call. He’s not in the tub five minutes before I’m riding him, my hands bracing myself on his shoulders while his mouth and tongue tease my nipples. I ride him harder, needing to come, relieved when his hand moves between us, over my clit. The water is splashing over the tub, the sound of the water hitting the floor mixing in with the sound of our heavy breathing. My nails dig into his shoulders as I come. My muscles clamping down around him trigger his orgasm, and he shouts out my name as he shoots his cum inside me.

“Our neighbors are going to think very bad things about us,” I tell him, my breaths coming out short and ragged.

“Let ‘em think whatever they want.” He kisses me, and I forget all about our neighbors.

We may not be ready to get married or even engaged, but for now, sharing our life together is more than enough for both of us. I wouldn’t change a single thing that happened between us, because it brought us to the place we’re at now. It’s a good place to be. It’s safe, and it’s warm.

It’s home.