am I stitching up seams, or pulling on triggers?

flora

Flora shivers as his hands strip away the soft chambray, her skin prickling with heat that runs deeper than anything to do with cold. She melts into him as his mouth seizes hers, body and memory tumbling together, everything as wickedly familiar as it is dangerously addictive. The gasp she gives him is both delight and surprise when he picks her up off the desk, weightless for a heartbeat before the mattress takes her, and for a moment she’s swept under by a tide of nostalgia sharp enough to sting at being back in such a familiar place. But Jack’s eyes—molten and consuming—burn the ache away before it has a chance to root.

Much as she wants to drag him down on top of her to smother all the other nagging burrs and kaisel-shaped thorns in her mind, to tangle him in every inch of her lace and heat, she instead lets her own fire answer his gaze. Catlike, unyielding, she traces her fingertips along the pathways of satin that crisscross her golden skin, teasing herself under the weight of his stare. "No one has ever looked at me the way you do," she murmurs, her voice rough with promise, her words drifting up to him like smoke.

A fingertip ghosts over the peak of a barely covered nipple, lingering long enough for her breath to hitch, before it trails down the flat plane of her stomach, pausing just above the dangerous descent between her thighs. She holds his gaze all the while, a teasing smile curling her lips, offering him both a provocation and an invitation in the same breath.

you're under the feeling like teenagers in cars
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!