Page 164 of Scattered Glitter

He may as well have dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Me, too,” I say, barely more than a whisper before he lets go of me.

I step back, turn, and make myself walk away, the ghost of his touch fading slowly as I go. The truth is, he’s starting to feel a little too real, a little too close. And the last thing I need is to become truly attached.

Needing to shake off what just happened, I pull out my phone and type out a quick message to Sylus.

Nicholas thinks I’ll be at some gala on Saturday with you guys.

Any idea what that’s about?

He replies almost immediately.

I’ll get everything sorted and check in with you soon, Sparkle baby.

I stare at his message, relief and dread suffocating whatwasa nice day.

I can do this.

As long as I don’t think or feel anything too deeply.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Novalee

The private room is dimly lit, the walls draped in plush velvet that absorbs the relentless thrum of the bassline. The air is thick with the mix of his cologne and the faintest trace of my perfume, a combination that feels as suffocating as it is familiar.

He’s another suit, another eager wallet, but this one’s got a Breitling on his wrist that practically screams that it wants to go home with me.

I drape myself over him and let my hips sway in a slow rhythm. I feel the tension in his body beneath me and see his eyes glued to the shimmer of glitter on my bare skin. His fingers twitch at his sides, itching to touch what he’s not allowed to.

“Having a good time?” I murmur, leaning in close enough for my breath to ghost against his ear.

He grunts something in agreement, his attention too fixed on my tits to bother forming coherent words. But then his hand moves, too fast and too bold, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me tighter against him. I stiffen but keepthe smile in place, brushing his hand off as I murmur, “Look, don’t touch. Those are the rules.”

He chuckles. “Rules are meant to be broken, aren’t they?” His hand snakes up, groping my breast.

That’s it.

I jerk back, my voice cutting through the music. “Carl!”

The bouncer doesn’t make me wait. The curtain swings open, and Carl fills the frame, his eyes flicking to me, then taking in the suit, whose hand is still mid-grab.

“Hands off the girls!”

With Carl closing the distance, relief surges through me, and I make my move. The suit is too distracted to notice the subtle slide of my fingers over his wrist. The Breitling slips free and into my palm just as Carl reaches for me, his hands surprisingly gentle as he puts them under my arms and lifts me off the man’s lap, setting me down on my feet. Once I’m safely out of reach, his demeanor shifts. He grabs the guy by the front of his suit jacket and hauls him up with ease.

“Hey, I paid for—”

“Don’t care,” Carl growls out, cutting him off. “You can be lucky that I’ll only throw you out and not break your jaw for that.”

The guy barely has time to sputter another word before Carl shoves him toward the curtain. The last thing I see before the curtain closes is the guy stumbling into the club, Carl’s broad back blocking the rest of the view.

I let out a shaky breath and glance down at the watch, the weight of it in my palm steadying me in a way that almost makes me smile.

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