27. Sterling #2
I don’t rush. I want her to feel every scorching touch, every electric second.
She gasps, her fingers in my hair. I back her toward the cot in the corner.
Thin mattress. Scratchy blanket. Doesn’t matter.
She drops onto the edge, and I kneel between her knees.
Pull her shirt over her head, eyes locked on hers.
She looks at me like I’m more than what I’ve done.
Like I’m not a monster who’s done terrible things.
Killed for others for money. Killed for her for free.
She reaches for my belt. Hands trembling. I let her.
“You’re sure?” I whisper.
She nods, lips brushing mine. “Yes.”
The rest comes apart. Clothes on the floor.
Kisses that deepen. Skin against skin. I’ve memorized everything about her.
What to touch to make her shiver. How she breathes and sounds when I kiss her in certain places on her perfect body.
All while she whispers my name like a plea and a prayer all at once.
She lies back. I follow. Her body fits around mine. I press inside her slow. She takes me in like she was made for it. Made for me.
She watches me. Eyes wide. Lips parted. Hips moving with mine. She feels like heaven, when all I’ve known is hell. Her body right under mine makes me forget everything else. Nothing comes to mind but her warmth, her wetness, her clenching around me.
My body moves on instinct. I never want to stop.
I won’t when she’s like this, wanting, needy, all mine.
I want her to feel everything I can’t say.
Everything I’ve buried. Her mouth never leaves my skin for long.
Her name never leaves mine. Her whispered words spread warmth through my body.
And when she cries out, holding on like I’m the only thing keeping her from floating away, I know I’d do anything, if it means keeping her here in my arms.
When we collapse into the mess of old sheets, she curls into my chest, quiet and sated if her adorable smile says anything.
Her breathing slows. I kiss her hair.
“You still worried about me dying?” I murmur.
She sighs, sounding satisfied. “Not at the moment.”
Good. Because as long as she wants me, I’ll survive anything.
***
A night’s passed since Elle and I moved to my shack. An old home. Used to be haunted. But now—I look over at Elle sleeping in the cot—it already feels like another home I have with her. The ocean crashes across the shore outside. It’s still dark, even though it’s a new day.
And over the wood stove, I stand flipping over a freshly caught fish. It sizzles in the pan, oil spitting like it’s got something to say. Then it quiets when I let it cool on a tin plate.
I like the silence. The crisp, early air passing through the open window. The faint hiss of flames. The mineral tang on my hands when I speared for breakfast a while ago. I like the work. And I like the idea of her waking up to it.
Elle. She’s still in my shirt.
Last night, she left me spent. But she still wanted more, even after I gave her everything. The things she says in the dark, breathless confessions against my ear…
Now, those are going to haunt me. I want them to.
The moment I cut into the fish, I hear the rustle of fabric and her light footsteps behind me.
“Smells good,” she murmurs, rasped with sleep. She comes, arms sliding around my waist. Lips brushing the back of my neck.
“Figured you could use something warm,” I say, steadying the plate even as her mouth grazes my neck.
She holds me tighter. “You’re warm.”
My breath’s shaky. I turn in her arms. She’s looking up at me like I’m the only thing in her world right now. It guts me. It flusters the hell out of me too.
“You’re dangerous like this,” I say, brushing her hair behind her ear.
She smiles into my chest. “Guess you’re breakfast now.”
A short laugh leaves my smiling lips before I can stop it. Then I spot her wrist. The watch. Stan’s. Big, matte black, unmistakable. It doesn’t belong on her, but it’s there, ticking like a heartbeat that isn’t mine.
The warmth in my heart turns heavy. She doesn’t notice. She’s too busy kissing down the top of my spine, humming softly.
I close my eyes for a second. Bite back the jealous bile crawling up my dry throat.
I let her kiss me as much as she wants. A second passes, then she says she needs to step out.
Doesn’t say where, but I already know. I open the door for her.
She disappears past the tree line. I wait until the sound of her footsteps fades.
Then I reach into the drawer beside the old cot and pull out Stan’s phone.
He tossed it to the ground like it meant nothing. But when I flip it open, there’s that picture of him and Elle. On the screen, Stan’s grinning like a goddamn idiot, while she looks like she doesn’t even realize he took the photo. Still, she looks breathtakingly beautiful.
I stare at her lips for too long, not realizing there’s a notification. Four unread messages. I know who they’re from.
Got Lix on our side. Good old charm of mine. No biggie.
Gonna hunt down demon. I mean, Damon. Damn ducking autocorrect.
I’ll ruin demon’s honeymoon and bring him back to help us.
Keep her safe at all costs, Silver. Please.
I stare at the words for a long time. Of course Stan would go for Damon. I shut the phone with a snap. Tuck it into the inside pocket of my coat. Elle doesn’t need to know. She deserves one more morning of peace. But I won’t forget for the both of us. I never do.