Page 26 of Scattered Glitter

“No.” He chuckles, and it’s lighter than I expected, almost tender, as his hands come to rest on my hips, pulling me closer. “I’ve never called anyone mine because I’ve never wanted to keep any of them.” He leans in closer, his lips barely brushing mine. “But you? I want to keep you.”

I see it in his ice-blue eyes. He’s not playing games.

Fuck.

“I’ve never felt this before,” he confesses.

“We’ve known each other for like two seconds,” I manage to say, though I have to swallow hard, and my heart is pounding against my ribcage.

I’ve never felt like this, either.

Ace’s hand finds my throat, pressing his thumb gently over my pulse, feeling the rapid beat beneath my skin. “Two seconds is all a mentalist needs to read someone’s soul,” he whispers, a low rumble that vibrates through me. “To know every secret hidden beneath the surface. And in those two seconds, I knew I wasn’t letting you slip away. You feel it, too, don’t you? This pull between us? Fucking magic.”

He pulls me closer by my neck, his lips crashing into mine with a heat that sears through me. His hand cups my cheek, the rough pad of his thumb brushing over my skin. My mind is spinning, caught between wanting to pull away so I can catch my breath and wanting to dive deeper, to feel more of him.

Before I can decide, Ace makes the choice for me. He scoops me up effortlessly, his lips never breaking contact with mine. In two strides, he’s across the room, lowering me onto his bed. The mattress dips under our combined weight, and his body is above mine, pressing down enough that I feel him all over me.

His kisses become more urgent, more insistent, and I struggle to keep up, my hands finding their way to his shoulders, gripping onto him like he’s the only thing keeping me grounded. His lips trail from my mouth down my neck, giving me a chance to catch my breath.

When he moves lower, brushing over my collarbone, I gasp. He’s kissing his way down the fabric of my top, his mouth hot and teasing against the sliver of exposed skin above my waistband. The sensation is overwhelming, and a rush of heat pools low in my belly, spreading like wildfire, and all I can do is try to remember how to breathe.

This is too fast.

“Ace,” I manage to say a little shakily. “Wait, please. I’ve never…”

He pauses, lifting his head to meet my eyes. His blond hair is a mess, but his expression softens. He’s curious yet careful, as if trying to read every thought flashing across my face.

“You’ve never what?” he asks. His tone is gentle, coaxing, but there’s an intensity there too.

I swallow, cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability.

Fuck, am I really telling him this?

What if he loses interest?

“I… I’ve never… done any of this.”

His eyes widen, surprise flitting across his features. “You’ve never doneanything?”

I nod, feeling exposed under his gaze, the admission barely more than a whisper. “This… you were my first kiss.”

A slow grin spreads across his face, and his eyes darken. “Your very first kiss?” he murmurs, seemingly savoring the revelation, tasting each word.

His fingers hook into the waistband of my jeans, tugging them down just enough to reveal the curve of my hip. I open my mouth to protest, but the words die as his lips press a slow, deliberate kiss there, his breath warm against my skin. His ice-blue eyes flick up, holding mine captive, and I’m caught in his gaze, unable to look away, unable to think of anything except the heat of his mouth on me.

“I’m going to claim all your firsts, Trouble,” he murmurs against my skin, each word a promise filled with intent. “We’ve got all the time in the world… no need to rush.”

I jolt out of the memory that had gripped me, startled by a loud clatter from the street below. My hearts still racing from the vivid flashback when I hear a familiar voice yell, “Fuck!”

Pulling my cami back on, I push myself off the bed and step to the window to look down. Hottie’s broad shoulders are tense as he straddles his bike under the streetlamp’s light, the engine roaring to life beneath him. He tears off down the street, leaving nothing behind but the fading rumble of his motorcycle.

“Shit.” I press my forehead against the cool glass.

I really fucked that up.

But dammit, he triggered me. His lips on my tattoo, which I got with the first money I earned as a stripper, were too much after a fuckup of a day like today. It sent me spiraling.

I sigh and push away from the window. Tugging my skirt and panties down, I look down at the small red heart with anAon my hipbone, right where Ace’s lips once breathed that promise into my skin.

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