Page 81 of Kill for a Kiss

“If you want…” he says, so much softer than I’ve ever heard him speak. “I can help you remember.”

My heartbeat’s in my throat. He leans in, closer than before, his breath brushing against my cheek, the scent of smoke and earth between us.

“Everything,” he whispers. “You can remember everything, Elle.”

I don’t know how I’m still breathing, because Sterling’s so close. All I’d have to do is move, merely a little, and our lips would meet. I shift a tad. He stiffens slightly, as if his first instinct is to retreat. So I reach for his hand. My fingers glide through his, threading together perfectly. “Are you offering because you want me to have the choice,” I ask, “or is this your way of apologizing for something you shouldn’t feel bad about in the first place?”

His fingers twitch in mine, tension rippling through him, but he doesn’t let go.

“It’s not your fault, Sterling,” I say. “Clo already had her eyes set on me, for however long, before you and I ever even met.”

A sound escapes him, more breath than voice, tight and broken. “I know how long. Just ask me.”

My heart hammers. I feel it, trying to reach Sterling again. But my mind is hazy, losing sense over the painful slip of memories, worsened by the sudden return of my withdrawals. I’m not feverish anymore, but it seems like it. The edges of my thoughts begin to fray again. Dark memories stir beneath the surface of my mind, uninvited. They always come back when I least expect it. The memories are never whole and never kind. My skin prickles as scenes play in my mind.My parents’ faces.My father’s panicked expression, my mother’s pleading eyes.The small body in my arms trembled, but I tried to be steady for the both of us. The world tips slightly from remembering too much at once. The sort of remembering that doesn’t offer answers, only ache.

So I breathe, even when my head is starting to hurt. I let the air in slowly, deeply, hoping it’ll steady me. I stare down and keep my focus on the shape of Sterling’s large hand in mine—how we fit, how warm he is, how much of him he offers to me. He’s here. This is the present. This moment is happening right now, and I can hold it, so that my past won’t take me back.

Sterling is here, with me, right now, and I can hold on to him. I’ve spent so much time trying to reclaim the pieces of myself I lost. But tonight, I don’t want to chase the ghosts of my past and demand answers from them to fill the painful blank spaces of my mind.

I take another deep breath and look up, already losing myself when our eyes lock again. I blink, trying to find the words.

“I want to know…one day.” I squeeze his hand, moving closer to him until there’s barely any space between us. “But I’ve spent too much time trying to remember everything I lost. So even if it’s only for today, I don’t want to be lost in my own mind. I want to be here with you.”

He breathes out through his nose, the sound faint, but his shoulders ease. While I wait for his words, I watch him. The fire paints him in shades of warm amber. His eyes are molten silver with dark, dilated pupils pointed at me. His lips look soft, shaped perfectly, as if they were meant to fit mine. I don’t know it for sure yet, but I feel it in my heart, like I was destined to stare at Sterling. He’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.

“Sterling…” I breathe out. “I don’t even know how many days it’s been since you brought me here. Since you gave me a roof, a warm bed, food and tea you make with your own hands… You take care of me like no one ever has.”

I watch the way his gray eyes swim.

“I don’t want to think about the past,” I whisper. “I want to be here. With you.”

There’s a long stretch of silence. Then slowly, so slowly, his fingers tighten around mine. It feels as if he’s been waiting for permission. So I nod a little, never wavering my gaze from his.

He pulls me gently into his chest, his other arm slipping around my waist. And I go with it easily. My body fits against his like I was always meant to be right here with him. I rest my cheek over his heart, feeling the steady thrum beneath his shirt. His scent’s fresh air and faint oak, and I breathe it in, feeling lighter.

“I’m here,” he murmurs into my hair. “With you.”

I lift my head to meet his eyes. They’re too comforting to look away from, now more than ever. Then he leans in.Oh. I barely have a second to react before his lips brush against mine. They’re so soft, though tentative, as if he’s offering me time to pull away. But I don’twant to. I don’t want space. I wantthis.

Him. I wanthim.

My breath catches, my pulse thunders in my ears, and before he can second-guess himself, I press in closer, closing the distance. Sterling lets out what sounds like a satisfied sigh, and then he’s kissing me like he’s starved for it, starved forme.

His hands slide onto my cheeks, cradling them gently. I still feel the restraint in his body, how tightly wound it is beneath his careful control. But I don’t want careful. Not now. Not ever. Not from him.

I dip my head and deepen the kiss. He makes a sound low in his throat, quiet and surprised. Maybe he wasn’t expecting me to meet him with equal hunger. But I do. I want this—him—so much that it hurts. He’s all fire and heat that sinks into me, unspooling deep in my chest, setting my heart alight.

His hand moves from my cheek to my jaw, to the nape of my neck, threading into my hair as his lips press in more. It’s slow and consuming. Every press of his lips against mine asking if I’m still with him, if I want more. I do. I truly, deeply do. So much so, that when I feel his heart beating against mine, it’s as if everything is right in the world. Here with Sterling, while I’m wearing his flannel, basking in the warm comfort of his cabin. Melting like molten heat against his lips. And surrendering everything in his arms.

My hands curl into his shirt, holding on like I never want to let go. He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against mine, both of us breathless. But he could steal all my air away. I’d happily let him.

“Elle,” he whispers. My name’s a plea falling from his lips.

I look up, seeing his gray eyes raw and shaken. “You don’t have to hold back with me,” I whisper, fingertips brushing the line of his jaw. “I want this, Sterling. I wantyou.”

His breath stutters. Then in a second, he kisses me again, guiding me to lean back on the couch. I sink down. Hefollows, bracing himself above me, one hand beside my head, the other at my waist.

He kisses me slowly, deeper than before. My fingers slide into his hair, and I pull him even closer, if that’s possible.