Page 88 of Kill for a Kiss

However, not long after, sleep pulls me under. Still, I feel safe. I know Sterling will stay by my side. I’m relieved, breathing easily. I can rest, knowing Sterling is doing everything it takes to walk through my fire without getting burned. And I’ll love him forever for that.

23

Sterling

Elle sleeps. I watch her, longer than I should, long enough that I lose track of time. The air in the cabin bedroom is warm, her breaths even against the pillow. She’s curled on her side, her hand tucked near her face, her head turned to me, and when I stare at her, she looks untouched, like she belongs in a world that isn’t this one, where I shared her on a couch, claiming her body.

The memory of her saying my name pierces through me like a blade dragged slow across skin. I close my eyes, trying to force it out of my head, but it lingers, sticky and thick, all mixed up with everything I felt. She reached for me. She wanted me. Shechoseme.

Except…she didn’t just chooseme.

The sound of a cleaver slamming cuts through the quiet.

Again.

And again.

And again.

I take a sharp inhale and exhale hard, then quietly and grudgingly leave the room, gently pulling the door shut behind me, despite the rage rising in me. The warmth I felt moments ago chills under my skin.

Stanley is in the kitchen, still shirtless, standing over the tiny wooden counter. He’s got the boar he hunted propped up like a prize, half-hacked and bleeding all over the cutting board, chunks of meat already heaped onto a stained towel. His hair’s a mess, and there’s fresh blood streaked up his forearms, like some kind of wild, grinning butcher.

He looks up mid-swing, blade gleaming, grin bigger. “You’re still up,” he says, way too loud for the hour. “Figured I’d whip us up somethin’ special. Nothing says post-orgy bonding like roasted boar.”

My eye twitches.

He slams the cleaver down again. “You want ribs or loin?”

I don’t answer. Because the haze is gone now. The heat, the high. And what’s left behind is cold, ugly, and territorial. He touched her. He kissed her. She moaned forboth of us.

I grit my teeth and lean against the counter. “Keep your voice down. Elle’s sleeping.”

“Yeah, probably worn out.” Stanley wipes his hands on a rag like he didn’t just turn the countertop into a crime scene. “Probably dreaming about you. Or me.” He tosses me a wink. “But let’s be real, probably both.”

My fingers form into fists. Stanley either doesn’t notice or pretends not to. Probably the latter. That’s his game. He can’t let anything have weight—not even this.

He stabs a knife into a slab of meat and spins it lazily. “You’re quiet, Silver. Regretting it already?”

I say nothing. Because I do regret it. But notElle. Not her soft sighs or the way she came apart in my arms.

Buthim. Letting him near her. Letting himwatch. Letting himtouch. Hell, he didmorethan that. Kissed her. Had her mouth. Her throat. Her warmth. Muffled her moans. Felt it from her lips. Connected tohis—

Ugh. God.

Stanley cuts through a tendon with an unnecessary flourish, whistling low. “Man, this thing’s gotmuscle. Boar, I mean.” He throws me a glance. “Like you, all taut and tense. Means I’m the fun one. Obviously.”

Still, I say nothing.

He keeps cutting, sawing through bone. “Look, I get it,” he says more casually now. “You’re stewing in your own moody silence, thinking I’m the asshole who pushed things too far. But you’re not stupid, Sterling. You know she wanted it.”

“Iknowwhat she wanted,” I growl before I can stop myself.

Stanley’s eyes land on mine. That smirk slips off for a second. Then it’s back. “Good.” He plants the cleaver into the cutting board. “Because I don’t think she’d survive the two of us ripping each other apart. Especially over something she wanted.”

He’s right, but I glare at him anyway.

He studies me. Takes a good, hard look at me. We have the same stupid eyes. And the same woman in mind. That’s about the only two things we have in common. I narrow my eyes, frowning. Then he sighs. “Look, she’s safe now. That’s what matters, right?”