Page 70 of When Glitter Meets Gold

Those silk panties that are going to get wet all over again if he doesn’t stop brushing his damn crotch against me.

“Jack…” I breathe as he looks down at me, his nose grazing my cheek. I sink my nails into his chest, half pushing him away, half clawing into him to keep him pressed against me.

“Did you think you could just kiss me?” he growls. “Get my dick hard, in that short fucking skirt, and I’d just forget about it?” His hips press into mine. “Maybe that’s what you’re doing with all the naked talk, maybe you’retrying to remind me.”Maybe.“Maybe you made a rule earlier, and now you’re regretting it. You remember your rule?”

I dig my nails in harder, this time I know I’m pulling him in. He winces, grinning into my cheek. “No kissing,” I whisper.

He nods, his thumb pressing harder at my hip, his face brushing against my temple. “Unless you ask me to.”

I can feel things begin to twitch below his waist. He’s not totally hard, but if we stay here like this, it’s going to happen.

“Let’s hear it Sara, you either ask for what I know you want, or you quit playing this game with me.” His other hand sinks into my hair, tilting my head up to meet his gaze.

Fuck.What do I say? And is he right? Probably. I’m teasing him while forcing him to stay at arm’s length. I inhale deeply, not breaking eye contact when I finally submit.

“Fine,” I whisper, watching him eye me with caution. “I’m sorry I teased you.” I swallow, offering him a weak smile. “I’ll stop.”

He exhales a breath that sounds like it’s been trapped for minutes. His hold against me loosens and he lowers his head.

And then, he steps back, slowly inching away from me.

That’s when I think he’s going to ask me to leave. Tell me he’s done with this game of cat and mouse I’ve invented.

You said you weren’t going anywhere…

It’s on the tip of my tongue, his words from earlier that I want to yell. They play over in my head.

Then his eyes are roaming over my hair, surveying my pigtails, assessing me with a smirk. “Nice hair,” he says while gesturing ahead. “Now let’s go downstairs. I have something for you.”

We cross a kitchen dining area lit only by a single soft lamp glowing amber in the corner, and a couple of brass portrait lights on the far wall that dimly beam down on a couple of water paintings.

When we reach a white, marble-topped island, Jack digs around in a lower cabinet before emerging with a jar consisting of thick, yellow syrup.

“Here.” He hands me the jar. “A gift from the hive.”

“Honey?” I grin before my expression dips, and I can’t help but pull my brows together in a tight frown.

“You don’t like it?” Jack asks, a bit wounded.

I shake my head as I fight to put into words exactly what has me questioning this moment when the not-so-mean boy from my childhood gifts me a jar of home-produced honey labeled,Nectar of the Gods.

“Maybe you are different, Jack. Different than this image I have...” I admit, chewing on the corner of my mouth. It doesn’t escape my notice how intensely his eyes track the gesture.

“What’s the image?” He narrows one eye.

Oh, only that you’re probably someone who spends their days at the head of a very long, shiny table in a dimly lit boardroom, lined with staff who quiver like a twanged piece of string.

“I think what I’m trying to say is…thank you.” The words lurch out of me, unplanned and clumsy.

“What for?”

“For being patient with me,” I say. “I know everything I do right now is probably confusing the hell out of you. It’s a miracle you’re still here.”

He leans against the counter opposite me. “I’m keeping up better than you think.”

“You are?”

He nods. “I’m guessing you went through something.” He tilts his head. “I don’t know what, and I’m not prying, but something made you stop trusting.” His voice becomes more serious. “I’m still here because I can see how hard you’re working to believe in someone again.”

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