Page 140 of Gathered Sparkle

And God help me, I don’t think I’ll survive this.

“Nova…” Her breasts press against my chest, and her heart hammers in time with mine.

“You feel so good,” she pants out.

“I’m not going to last,” I warn while my grip on her hips tightens, trying to keep her pace steady, but it’s no use.

She’s too much—too perfect, too beautiful, too everything I’ve ever wanted but thought I couldn’t have.

“Then let go for me.” Her words undo me, and with one last roll of her hips, I’m gone. My release rips through me, leaving me trembling and gasping as I bury my face in her neck, holding her as tightly as I dare.

My ears are ringing when I come back to earth, but Nova’s murmured words break through the noise. “I love you.”

I try to catch my breath while her fingers brush through my hair.

“I love you, too, but fuck, that was disappointing.”

God, she’s never going to have sex with me again.

“Nothing about you could ever be disappointing.”

The knot in my chest loosens enough to allow me to breathe again.

We collapse onto the bed together, her body tucked against mine, and I don’t feel trapped. I don’t want to escape this.

Icraveit.

Crave her.

“Need more of you,” I murmur into her hair, breathing in her candy scent.

“Need more of you, too,” she whispers as she shifts off me, making me pull out, but she’s still close enough for her breath to brush my neck. “Give me your hand.”

I lift it slowly, hesitant. She takes it gently, pressing it between her hands, her warmth seeping into my skin. Then, she moves, guiding my hand with hers, sliding down over my chest.

Her fingers intertwine with mine, featherlight, barely there—her touch a whisper against my skin as she leads me over the ridges of my stomach, the curve of my ribs as if she’s mapping me out, memorizing me through the bridge of our joined hands.

The contact is so soft it undoes me.

And yet,it burns.

“Trouble,” I rasp, my pulse hammering as she keeps guiding me, keeps touching me. And I don’t know if I want her to stop or never stop.

She doesn’t pull away. Her fingers drift lower, skating over every scar, every place I once swore no one would touch. Each pass feels like a match striking against the ice that’s kept me locked away.

Her fingers press a little harder, tracing the line of muscle down to my ribs. I can’t help it, my breath hitches. My chest rises into her palm, silently begging for more.

“Touch me, please.” My voice is rough, raw. I don’t ask for things like this, but I’m askingher.

Nova looks up, her eyes blazing, half fire, half tenderness. The way she watches me?

It’s like she’s touching my soul as much as my skin.

She presses her palm flat against my heart, and something inside me breaks. Not in the way that hurts. No, it’s the kind of breaking that makes you whole.

I close my eyes and sink into it.

Her fingertips continue their slow, maddening path up my neck, across my jaw, and brushing over my shoulder. She lingers there, and my breath catches again.

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