"he stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking"
in which reader and spencer find out they have much more in common than a love for novels
summary of chapter 18: spencer invites you to dinner, and after an icy confrontation over past conversations, chinese food, and an accident involving an ice-cream cone, the two of you decide to go back to his place.
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
...
The sexual tension on the way back to Spencer's apartment was palpable. You held your new book tightly against you the whole ride.
Luckily, the tension dispelled.
Spencer fucked you almost immediately after you got to his apartment. It wasn't like you'd planned for it to end up that way, but when he'd suggested that you take off your shirt and throw it in the washer, there was no denying what was next.
You were beginning to think he'd spilled the ice-cream on purpose.
...
After that night it became almost a tradition. Like a sacred ritual that you couldn't miss, only the ritual wasn't religious and involved you, him, and at least twoorgasms.
Spencer often said that you were the only thing he needed after a hard day at work. You liked it: the knowledge that after he'd been stressed all day, you could make it go away.
Miraculously enough, Spencer began having hard days a lot more often. Even on days when you'd seen him have a breakthrough on a case, he would always message you complaining about how he'd had a bad day.
Would you like to come to my apartment? he'd write. Both of you knew it was code for sex, but Spencer made a lot of things seem more formal than they were.
When it came down to it, you didn't mind, because well, he'd had a hard day.
And you knew just how to make it up to him.
...
You tripped on the stairwell. Spencer had to pull you back up.
Between neck kisses and sloppy attempts to undo your button-up, it was safe to say that the both of you were at best stumbling toward his apartment.
Another hard day at work for Spencer Reid.
"Shut the door," Spencer ordered once you had made it inside.
You were too distracted to comprehend his orders, and suddenly he was pushing you back against the wood, slamming the door shut in the process.
With one hand at the nape of your neck and the other latching the lock he murmured, "Fine, I'll do it." And as with most things, he did it effortlessly.
