Page 17 of Kill for a Kiss

I take another sip of tea, its bitterness still present despite the honey, but somehow…easierto swallow with Stanley’s company.

“You’re…pretty cheeky,” I murmur, my eyes meeting his over the rim of my cup.

“Emphasis onprettythough, right?”

I huff a quiet laugh.

He puffs out his chest. “See? You already like me.”

I shake my head again, amused, though part of me can’t quite deny it.

His voice suddenly drops. “Let’s make it official, then. Call me Stan.”

Sighing softly, I shake my head once more, half-amused but also half-resigned. “Okay, Stan.”

His grin stretches lazily, pleased with the easy win. “Look at that. We’re already so close.”

For some reason, I can’t quite remember what I was thinking about before he walked in.

“So is Elle short for something?” he asks, breaking my train of thought as he picks up a biscuit.

I blink, feeling a strange, sudden panic rise in me. His question presses in harder than it should. I glance over at the door, hoping Clo would reappear. She knows so much about me, and she always fills in the gaps. But she’s not here.

Stan sets a half-eaten biscuit down. “Hey, it’s okay if you don’t wanna tell me. I told ya, didn’t I? I’ll warm ya up.”

Heat returns up my neck, closing my throat. He winks again, making it worse, before sipping his mother’s coffee. But then he quickly pulls a face, probably from the black coffee’s bitterness.

“Fuck’s sake, this stuff’s awful. Wanna get out of here?” Stan gets up, not looking back at me, most likely expecting me to follow. Much to my surprise, I easily do. The hesitation I’d felt moments ago seems to drift away with each step.

He pushes open the double glass doors leading into the gardens, stepping out into the cool morning air.

Soon enough, I see a black motorcycle that gleams under the sunlight, its chrome details catching the light like a sharpened blade. It looks powerful and dangerous. I shouldn’t be staring so openly, but I do.

Stan turns back to me, catching my look, a smirk spreading across his face. “Like what ya see?”

I offer a small smile. “It’s…nice.”

He snorts. “Nice? Elle, come on.” He leans on the handlebars. “He’s got power, speed, style. Everything a girl could want.”

I raise my knitted brows. “You think I’d want a motorcycle?”

He smirks, stepping closer, his broad frame cutting a shadow over me. “I’m talking aboutme, Elle.”

At my breathy gasp, Stan’s eyes gleam with mischief. In that tight black shirt and dark denim, he looks effortlessly rugged and attractive. My fingers twitch, as if they want to trace over his muscles.

I push that thought away. He watches me like he knows anyway. Like he can really read me that well.

I purse my lips together, feigning polite indifference. “It suits you.”

He grins. “That sounds like a compliment.”

I can’t help the faint flush that creeps up my neck. “…I didn’t mean to.”

He clicks his tongue in mock disappointment. “Damn. And here I thought we were getting somewhere.”

I don’t answer. Ican’tanswer, since he takes another step closer, close enough that I catch the faint scent of leather and the ocean breeze clinging to his skin. Close enough that my thoughts start slipping again.

Stan tilts his head, studying me. “You okay there, Elle? You look a little dazed.”