Page 129 of The Sweetest Return

I felt that look everywhere.

“You been busy,” he said, voice lower now.

“A little.”

His eyes lifted to mine, then dropped again. “You like decorating what’s mine?”

The nerve of him.

The accuracy.

Dre leaned forward and kissed the tattoo over my heart before I could find a response.

My eyes closed.

“You know what it does to me,” he said against my skin, “seeing my name still here? Knowing I never really left?”

His mouth touched it again, lower this time, close enough to the edge of my breast that my breath left on a hiss before I could stop it.

Of course he heard.

“What does it do?” I asked, though forming the words took more effort than it should have.

Dre lifted his head.

His eyes were dark.

“It makes my dick hard, Mani. Touch it and see.”

My hand moved before my pride could catch it. I reached across the small space between us and dragged my palm over him through the robe.

God.

He was thick and hard, heavy beneath my hand, impossible to pretend away. My mouth watered with a hunger I had not given permission to speak yet.

Dre watched my face while I touched him, and the room seemed to lose another inch of air.

Then he reached for me.

The robe slipped from one shoulder. Then the other. The fabric fell open in my lap, and his gaze dropped to my breasts.

The nipple rings caught the light.

His face changed.

“Fuck, Mani.”

The roughness in his voice made my thighs press together.

Dre brushed one knuckle beneath my breast, careful enough to make the wanting meaner. “When did you get these?”

“A few years ago.”

His knuckle passed under the curve again, then his palm followed, warm and sure as he lifted the weight of me like he had missed knowing exactly how I fit in his hand.

“Your tits were already pretty,” he said, lowering his mouth. “But this?”

His lips grazed the metal.