Page 100 of Kill for a Kiss

His body tenses. His eyes lift. They meet mine, stormy and stoic, but they always settle something inside me. A sort of calmness only he could ever give me.

“Did you get some rest?” I ask.

“I’m fine,” he says.

But I can hear the slight wear in his voice. The exhaustion behind his stillness. The ache hiding in plain sight. “You’re not.” I scoot back to make room. “Come here.”

He stays where he is.

“Sterling,” I say again. “Please.”

For a moment, he only watches me. Then, slowly, he rises to his feet and sits down beside me. The mattress dips with his weight. I pull him in before he can change his mind. He’s so warm and solid, but also so tense. In case he might change his mind, I press closer. I wind my legs around his and place my palm against his chest, where his heart pounds fast and hard under my touch.

“Elle,” he says, voice catching on my name. It sounds somewhere between a warning and a plea.

I lift my face to his, brushing my lips against his jaw. “Stay with me.”

He dips his head down and his lips find mine, slow and soft. He kisses me like he’s afraid to want too much. But I’ve already wanted too much. I keep wanting more and more, as long as it means beingright by Sterling’s side. It’s all I want to do. I can’t imagine being far from him, even if it’s a few feet away. I’ll follow him, wherever he goes.

I deepen the kiss. His hand traces the side of my thigh. My body arches into him. But then his mouth breaks from mine.

“You feel—” he begins, voice low and rough.

But I never hear the rest. The bedroom door swings open. We both freeze.

Sterling lifts his head, glowering at the open door. I turn toward the sound, even though I already know who’s standing there.

Stan. Shirtless. Loose pants. Wild hair. He leans against the doorframe. He smiles, laced with mischief. “Don’t mind me,” he says. “Just passing through.”

Sterling’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t speak.

Stan raises a brow. “You do realize these walls are paper-thin, right?”

Still, Sterling stays silent. Stan walks in anyway. He drops into the chair beside the bed—Sterling’s chair—and makes himself comfortable. I glance at Sterling, my heart thudding loud in my chest. I don’t pull away. Neither does he.

Stan rests his chin on his fist, eyes on us. “Please. Continue. Don’t let me interrupt.”

Sterling looks down at me. His expression’s still stoic but so muchmore intense.

“Sterling…” I whisper, breathless. “It’s okay.”

His hand presses into my waist. “You want him to watch?”

My lips part. My chest rises. I feel the answer, thick in my throat. But I don’t speak it aloud.

Stan doesn’t wait for anything. The chair creaks as he leans forward, inching closer, like he’s already been invited.

The air turns heavy. Heat soaks into my skin. And then Sterling kisses me again. This time harder, rougher. A kiss with teeth. A kiss that dares me to want more. I want impossibly more of him. My leg hooks over him. My body moves to fit his.

Stan speaks up. “Damn, Elle,” he drawls, his grin audible. “If I knew you were that flexible, I would’ve given you more of a workout.”

A breathy laugh breaks out of me before I can stop it. I bite down on it against Sterling’s lips. He groans as his hand clamps around my bottom. “You encourage him,” he mutters.

“It’s not intentional,” I manage to say.

Sterling leans back to look at me, those silver eyes so stormy. He wraps my leg around his waist, forcing me to feel every solid inch of him. My breath hitches before a longing moan slips out of my quivering lips.

“You wanna give him a show?” he whispers. “Fine.”