Page 70 of Scattered Glitter

His eyes lock onto mine, intense yet not as if he’s holding back just enough to keep me from bolting. “I don’t want anything except to go back to where we left off,” he murmurs, sending a shiver down my spine.

My throat tightens as I swallow hard, and the warmth of his body seeps into mine as he walks us toward my bedroom. I don’t know what’s scarier—the way he looks at me like I’m something more or how much I want to let him. “And this time…” he continues. “You tell me your triggers.”

“I don’t have any triggers,” I lie, the words feeling flimsy even as they leave my lips.

“Sure.” He chuckles again, his eyes skeptical as he nudges the door open with his foot. “Could’ve fooled me.” The door clicks shut behind us, and the tension in the air thickens as he carries me to the bed and lays me down. Hovering over me, his breath warm against my skin, he asks, “So, just no weed?” His lips brush against my ear as his thumb strokes my cheek. “Nothing else I need to be careful about?”

I hesitate for a moment, and he leans back to watch me, the weight of his gaze making it harder to breathe. It probably would be better to open up the tiniest bit to make sure I’m not setting us both up for a disaster again. “Maybe stay clear of the tattoo,” I whisper back.

His eyes widen the slightest bit, like he’s piecing together something important, though I’m sure he knows shit. Still, there’s a flicker of understanding in his gaze. He leans down again, his lips ghosting over mine in a short peck. “No problem,” he murmurs. “Any other hands-off zones?”

“Nope.” I push him back a little to pull off my cami and toss it aside, realizing I’ve still got the pasties stuck to my nipples. “The rest are allhands-onzones.”

I rip off the pasties, wincing at the sting, but before I can even react, his hands are there, his thumbs stroking over my nipples, soothing the brief burn. “Shh,” he whispers, his tone laced with amusement as he leans down, his breath hotagainst my skin. “Why are you so brutal to your beautiful tits?”

A soft moan escapes me as his lips close around one nipple, and I lean back, my hands bracing against the bed for support, every nerve in my body lighting up under his touch.

My head tilts back, and a shiver runs down my spine as his tongue flicks over the sensitive bud, drawing gasps that I can’t hold back. The pull of his mouth and graze of his teeth are all-consuming, sending waves of heat coursing through me until my body arches into him, craving more.

His hands are everywhere, his thumbs stroking circles that leave a trail of fire in their wake. My breathing quickens, ragged and shallow, and when he switches to the other nipple, his lips brushing and teasing, my fingers curl into the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto.

I lose myself in the moment, in the heat of his touch, in the way he takes his time as if savoring every inch of me. His hands slide lower, tracing over my ribs and waist, making my head spin, and I’m drunk on the sensation. And when he finally pushes me down, hovering his weight over me, my heart stutters.

His fingers hook into the waistband of my jeans, distinctly avoiding my tattoo, lingering just enough to make me ache for him. He pulls them down in one fluid motion, taking my panties with them and leaving me completely bare beneath him.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his eyes dark and hungry as they roam over my body. “You’re so damn beautiful, it hurts.”

The words catch me off guard, and I try to remind myself why we’re here and why Ineedto keep this simple. “This is a no-strings-attached thing.”

He grins, his hands gliding up my sides as he leans down, pressing his forehead against mine. “Is your no-strings-attached thing a one-and-done deal?”

I blink up at him. “What?”

“You heard me.” His breath is warm against my lips, and his eyes are playful but with an intensity that’s hard to ignore when his thumb strokes over my chin. “You never see the same guy twice, right? So is this a one-and-done thing?”

I open my mouth to respond, but the words catch in my throat. He’s not wrong, this is usually how it goes. I don’t do attachments. I don’t do second chances.

And still, he’s here.

When I don’t answer right away, he grins wider. “You know, if it is a one-time thing, I need to know in advance. That way, I can bring my A-game, maybe take some blue pills so that I can keep you for as long as physically possible.” His thumb pulls my bottom lip down before it strokes over my chin once more. “If it’s only one time, I want to make the most of it.”

Despite myself, I laugh, the tension breaking for a second as I look up at him. “How about you bring your A-game now,” I challenge. “And if you’re any good,maybeit won’t be a one-and-done.”

His grin turns wicked, his eyes darkening with lust. “So when I’mreallygood.” He brushes his lips against mine, his fingers starting to draw a path down my stomach. “We can make this a recurring thing?”

“Ifyou’re good—” I start, but my heart skips a beat as his lips cut me off and finally claim mine in a kiss that’s deep, demanding, and everything I didn’t know I needed.

Then Hottie’s lips trail from my mouth down my neck, each kiss deliberate. His hands roam over my body, teasing, igniting every nerve ending as he presses me deeper into themattress. His weight on top of me, his breath hot against my throat—it’s driving me crazy.

Threading my fingers through his hair, I tug until I hear him groan, and I arch into him, my body already aching for more, every nerve alive and sparking under his touch. My mind is a haze of need and anticipation, and when his lips ignite a spark from my shoulder to my breasts, I gasp. His tongue flicks against my skin, teasing and tasting—the sheer intimacy of it sends a shiver racing down my spine.

As he kisses lower, over my stomach, my muscles tighten beneath his mouth, the contrast of his soft lips and firm hands making me whimper. His fingers trace along the inside of my thighs, parting them slowly, his touch so deliberate, so reverent, that my breath comes in short, sharp bursts.

It’s not just what he’s doing, it’s how he’s doing it. His hands press into my skin like he’s committing every curve to memory. He looks up at me through heavy-lidded eyes, as though I’m something sacred. Its vulnerability leaves me bare, not just physically.

A moan slips from my lips as his hands spread my thighs wider, sending heat pooling low in my stomach as my body trembles beneath his attention, desperate for more, desperate for him.

Leaning over my pussy, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, whispering, “Fucking finally.”

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