Page 40 of Glitter

I took a deep, calming breath as I scrounged my brain for some of, any of, the phrases I’d practiced before I’d driven over to Dusti’s house, which had only just recently been right there on the tip of my tongue.

“Before you left me at the diner on Saturday,” I said, “you claimed that feelings wreck things. And not that they might wreck any relationships that you try, but that theywillwreck them, every time.”

“Because they do,” Dusti muttered sullenly.

I didn’t complain about his interruption, but I did give him a rather pointed look. “I would argue that the problem isn’t so much about introducing emotions into a relationship, having strong feelings for another person, as it is entrusting the right person to cherish and nourish those feelings.”

Sarcasm heavily laced his question as Dusti asked, “And you’re that person? That’s what you’re suggesting, right? That you—”

“I could be,” I snapped, peeved. Then, more calmly, I stated, “At least, I’d like to think that I could be. I want to be.” Scooting forward on the cushion I was sitting on, I leaned toward him, my clasped hands dangling between my knees and my elbows resting on my thighs. “Look, Dusti, I wish I could promise you that I’m the right man for you to trust with your feelings, with your heart. Really, I do. Although, I’m not sure how much good it would do since you seem to trust promises even less than you trust feelings.”

I gazed at him, hoping he would look back at me, so I could try to read in his eyes how much of what I was saying was making it through the stubborn armor he’d erected around his heart. After a moment, I was rewarded with one fleeting glimpse—a quick, blink and I would’ve missed it, flash of his blue eyes glancing at me. I only got to see them for a second, so I might’ve been wrong, but I thought I saw a small ember of yearning sparking to life. As though Dusti wanted to believe me, even against his own better judgement.

Knowing that the 5 minutes he’d granted me had to be just about up, I tried one more time. “Please, Dusti,” I begged. “I’m not asking you to ignore your doubts or telling you that you shouldn’t be cautious with your heart. All I’m asking for is a chance. Any sort of chance.”

His full lower lip trembled and he seemed to hug his knees closer to his chest. If I thought that he would welcome any sort of physical comforting from me, I would fling myself off this sofa this very second. But all I could do was continue to plead my case.

“Don’t automatically rule out the possibility of something wonderful between us simply because all of your past attempts failed, I said, earnestly adding, “Frankly, I’m glad they failed. If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here with the chance to be the one who succeeds. Give me that chance, Dusti. Please.”

I’d said all that I could. More words would just have me repeating myself, probably with increasing levels of desperation. So, I lapsed into silence, waiting to see what Dusti’s verdict would be—would he give a relationship between us a chance or would he stand firm in his decision of no longer wanting to have anything to do with me?

Minute upon minute ticked by, and despair crept through me like lachrymose fog as it appeared as though Dusti’s answering silence was going to stand in as his response. I tried to accept it, I did. I’d known that this would be the probable outcome even before I’d gotten in my car to drive over here.

But acceptance is difficult to reach through a forest made of the broken shards from a broken heart.

Something—not a sound, but something—pulled my attention away from my own disappointed misery and back over to Dusti. He was still tucked up in a defensive ball in his club chair, but his eyes… There were still dark smudges beneath them, but his blue eyes were free of sad shadows and steady as they gazed at me.

A small nod unfurled tender tendrils of hope and I tentatively asked, “Dusti?”

Another nod, slightly bigger. “Yes.” One more, definite and resolved this time, and Dusti spoke the words that repaired my heart and sent it soaring. “Okay, Benny. Okay.”

“Come here, boo.”

Chapter 19

Dusti seemed to move in slow motion as his arms unwrapped from around his bent knees. One long, slender leg and then the other stretched out, flip-flopped feet coming to rest on the floor. Pointing a single finger at the space between his feet, Dusti repeated his command. “Benny. Come here.”

My heart leapt and galloped, but my legs felt too weak to carry me even the few feet it would take to reach him. Sliding off the loveseat and onto the floor, I crawled, the wood hard against my hands and knees, until I was where he wanted me.

Rubbing my cheeks against the soft, silken skin on the inside of his thighs, I inhaled the sweet, candy scent of him.

“Benny.” My name was a gentle sigh from his lips.

Gentle fingers sifted through my hair, playing with strands that were longer now than when we’d first met. I continued to nuzzle his thighs with my cheeks and nose, inching my way up slowly, higher and higher, intending to bury my face in his groin so I could reacquaint myself with the more concentrated, slightly muskier fragrance of his sex.

But before I could do that, Dusti’s fingers firmed in my hair, tightly gripping handfuls of it, and tugged me up and away. I had only a moment to wonder why he’d denied me that treat when he gave me a different one—an even better one.

Soft, lush and velvety lips brushed against mine. A small, testing sip, followed by a longer, firmer press.

I gasped, and Dusti took advantage of my parted lips to suck my top lip into his mouth. I tried to say his name, but I was unwilling to sever the contact between our lips long enough to properly form the letters. The mumbled syllables I was able to say, Dusti licked off my lips with a languid flick of his tongue.

He tasted of sugar. I would’ve expected nothing less. Like rock candy—the purest, sweetest sugar of all. I eagerly met his tongue with mine, lapping up all his sweetness. And I surged forward, hungry for more, when I felt Dusti pull his mouth from mine.

“Benny, wait,” he said, causing me to whimper pitifully. “Wait. We need to…”

Some color had returned to Dusti’s face, a soft wash of pink staining his cheeks, and his breath was rushing as much as mine was, all from a few kisses. The flush on his cheeks deepened as his eyelashes swept down to cover his eyes and his straight, white teeth nibbled on the corner of hip lip.

“This isn’t just sex,” he blurted out. Dusti’s eyes squinched closed as he grimaced, but then they flicked open and I found myself staring into familiar pale green-specked, blue fire. “Don’t get me wrong, boo, we are having sex tonight. I missed you so much, it hurt. And I want you. Fuck. I always want you. But you were right. There’s more between us than just sex. And…I want that too. It fucking terrifies me, but…” His voice went low and quiet. “I’m willing to try.”

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