ESCORT / spencer reid.

eight

     "WHY? DO you want me to?" Spencer
asked the woman, staring into her side profile as he lowered the mug down to his lap.

Ivory's entire face went hot, her heart thumping fast in her chest. "I didn't mean that—"

"Ulcers just hurt a lot. I don't want you getting hurt." Spencer replied awkwardly, his eyes filled with confusion and a sliver of excitement blooming in him at her words.

"Yeah, yeah." She muttered softly, lifting her head to look at him; she forced a sheepish smile on her face, although it wasn't really genuine. "I was just curious."

"I don't think so..." Spencer muttered truthfully, still not breaking eye contact with her; that only made Ivory feel more anxious in his presence. "You know, some people would call that a Freudian slip. When your subconscious feelings rise to the conscious by accident, thus creating a phenomenon in which you say something you didn't want or mean to say."

"Ah...I see..." Ivory grumbled. But then her head snapped up, her eyes wide. "No! I-I wasn't thinking about kissing you, I kinda just asked that out of nowhere—"

"Really?" He asked her cheekily, smugly grinning at her sudden flustered state.

"Yes! Really!" She protested, madly blushing. The truth was, she was always thinking about Spencer kissing her—it was in the back of her mind, somehow, most of the time. Because those pink lips looked so soft, beautifully full, flushed, and perfectly kissable.

Suddenly, her thoughts were all invaded by him. Ivory suddenly began to wonder how good of a kisser he was—hell, she wondered how good he was in bed.

Oh god. That scared her more than anything else. It was so wrong to think of the innocent looking man in front of her like that. But she couldn't help it—he was simply gorgeous, beautiful sculpted by the gods themselves.

But Spencer wouldn't keep her long enough for her too see, or experience, any of it. Because soon enough, he'd be sick of her and sick of the things she did. He'd start to see her as a toy, an object, if anything else.

That was a feeling she knew would be more painful to accept than anything. Rejection by someone she actually wanted in her life.

"Ivy?"

She snapped out of his trance, lifting her eyes from his lips with embarrassment. "Sorry, what?"

"I said that I don't really believe you." He said, smirking down at her.

"Well, you don't have to." Ivory said, patting his knee. "Gimme that." She said in a snarky tone, grabbing the mug from his hands.

"Oh, so now you're annoyed that I'm right?" Spencer teased.

"Shut up. I wasn't thinking about kissing you. Even though you have nice...lips." Ivory grumbled, continuing to blush as she focused her attention on the television.

"I know you think I do."

"Excuse me???"

"I said I know—"

"I know what you said." She cut him off in annoyance. "How?"

"Well for starters, when you look at me, your eyes are on mine for a total of 5.5 seconds, before they travel down to my lips for about another two, and then back up? You do that a lot." He said obnoxiously, shrugging nonchalantly.

"I do not!" Ivory said defensively.

"Oh, you absolutely do. Ivory, I wonder sometimes what you're thinking of in those two seconds—because it only takes about 3.5 seconds to lean in and do it, if you were wondering." Spencer continued, looking at her with a teasing look that made her even more flustered.