Her soft giggle made my cock twitch. “It’s not for your dick.”
“Well, where’s the fun in that?”
She pursed her lips and went back to the tools laid out on her nightstand. Damn, she was hot when she went all mad scientist on me.
From the moment her classmate, Parker, had suggested the honey dust idea, Bella hadn’t been able to get it out of her mind.To Bella, it was less of a suggestion and more like a personal challenge.
For three days, I’d watched her pace the kitchen, muttering measurements under her breath, scribbling notes, and texting Parker rapid-fire questions before disappearing into her room for hours at a time.
Focused. Determined. Completely in her element.
It made something warm settle in my chest, knowing she’d found her footing at school and, better yet, a friend who spoke her language.
While Bella busied herself at the nightstand, I let my gaze wander, really taking her room. A mountain of pillows crowded the headboard, half decorative, half clearly meant for strategic lounging. Library books were stacked on her nightstand—actual,physical books—that she wedged between a mug with a chipped rim and a notebook full of scribbled ideas.
Twinkle lights had been strung from wall to wall, looping across the room in soft golden arcs because as Bella put it, she didn’t “do overhead lighting.”
And then there was the evidence of her experiment.
Tiny bowls and measuring spoons sat on her dresser, dusted with faint traces of gold. The faint scent of honey lingered in the air, like her room itself had absorbed the last few days of trial and error.
In a house of neutral walls and sensible furniture, this room was unmistakably hers. Every pillow, nook, and soft light felt intentional.
Lived in.Loved.
And she had welcomed me in, arms—and mouth—wide open.
Bella turned back to me, jar in hand, clearly pleased with herself. “Alright, ready for batch number three?”
I grinned. “Yes, doctor. What’s the hypothesis?”
“That this will taste better than it smells.Andthat you’ll beg for more.”
She unscrewed the lid, and a sweet, floral-honey scent bloomed between us. She tipped the jar, letting a light cloud of golden dust drift down onto my chest. It settled in a faint shimmer across my skin, cool at first, then warming instantly.
I hissed out a breath. “Tickles.”
“Poor baby,” she cooed, completely unsympathetic. She dipped a brush that looked more like a feather duster into the jar and swept it across my collarbone.
She followed the path with her tongue, licking a stripe across my chest. The wet heat dissolved the powder into sticky sweetness, and I groaned, hips shifting involuntarily.
“Hold still. Science demands precision.”
I raised a brow. “Bossy.”
She swirled around my nipple, sucking gently then harder,teeth grazing just enough to make my back arch off the bed.
“Mm, subject is responsive,” she murmured against my skin, pressing a quick kiss to my collarbone. “Very responsive.”
“Anything in the name of science, baby,” I told her, grinning even as my cock throbbed.
“You sure?” She pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “Because I’m feeling very . . .thoroughtonight.”
I reached up, tucking a damp curl behind her ear. “Thorough is my favorite. Do your worst.”
“Challenge accepted.”
She sprinkled more dust, lower this time, the powder catching in the ridges of my abs. The brush followed, tracing every muscle. Soft, maddening strokes that stirred the powder into a sticky sheen where it mixed with the heat of my skin.
