Page 118 of Sterling Stone

I want to be messier.

I want the joy of sticking with this man and the fear of leaving him as a reason to stay.

I want what I’ve been waiting for my entire life. The one I might joke about in bars but search for in every new corner of the world, only to learn he’s right here in the place I once called home.

Waiting.

Suddenly, I’m moving faster.

Chasing.

Gliding up and down his slick shaft, teasing us both with release, only to hug him back into my body again. Through the push and pull, we tease one another until I’m nearly galloping over him and he’s following my pace.

Searching.

The candles are humming, vibrating against the metal of the truck. The flames dance in wicked flashes, and yet we can’t stop.

“Stone,” I call out, desperate to finish. To stop waiting, chasing, searching.

“Taxi,” he grunts, my name a warning. He’s close. He’s almost there.

His hand comes to my lower belly, and his thumb stretches to reach that sensitive point. He slams me down on his cock, letting loose inside me, nearly shouting as he pulses and jolts, marking me in a new way.

His release sparks mine, and I leap off the cliff with him. Not feeling so alone anymore, because he’s holding my hand. He’s holding me.

I catch a glimpse of my hand over his chest. Fingers splayed out like their own unique five-point star. A badge over his heart. And his hand is right over the back of mine, holding it in place on him.

I do solemnly swear . . .

The release in me rips apart any promise I could formulate. I have only one promise to make.

Stay.

I lean forward, cupping his jaw and planting my mouth over his, kissing him with all I have as I ride out the bliss. A jump without a parachute.

Only him.

Stone.

Eventually, I realize, we aren’t kissing so much as just holding our mouths against one another, breathing in each other.

“Taxi, I⁠—”

I kiss him again, swallowing whatever was unsaid, not wanting words in this moment.

Let me show you who I am.

He has.

40

[Stone]

Holy shit.

I blink, trying to make sense of what just happened.

We made love, I have no doubt about it. Yet I also realized I’ve never done what we just did. I can hardly explain it to myself. The way she moved. The way I responded. Following her lead and almost telling her⁠—