“You drank from my glass.”
I pout, my skin feeling abominably hot. “I was curious. I’ve never had alcohol before.”
“You’re lightweight,” he says, and I can tell that it amuses him somehow. “What’s your vice? A loose tongue or erratic behaviour?”
I giggle, and snort, unable to help myself.
“Starting over, what does that entail for you?” Zefiro asks, his lips trailing a path down my naked spine.
I moan into the--his--pillow, breathing in copious amounts of his scent. Today, his lips trail every inch of my skin, not his hands. Something about being obscenely naked under a fully dressed Zefiro turns me on harder and faster than normal. Something about the way his crisp tie trails the curve of my ass softly makes the hair on my skin rise. “A new name. Something Scottish. I’ve always been
