Page 24 of Sterling Stone

Thankfully, I hadn’t quite given my heart, or my body, as the two have issues separating themselves and this time, I was grateful.

Still . . . the way Stone had looked at me. So intently. So interested in my art and my work with the students. He listened to me mention Mama and jail without passing judgment or asking for details. Then, the way he went into superhero mode, helping that young co-ed. He appeared so solid, in control, protective even, and I leaned into that sensation. Something inside me said you’re safe with him, Taxi.

But I couldn’t trust my head or my heart. And my body? Forget about it.

That goodnight kiss has haunted me for three months. The command of his lips. The tenderness in them. The whisper of a promise in them.

My man-free diet hit a plateau after that night. I didn’t hunger for anyone else because a phantom kiss lingered on my lips. A ghost of a snack that was decadent and rich. Like a sweet potato cupcake and cream cheese frosting. A little spice. A little sweet. In combination, perfection.

That night I took care of myself as I’ve done too often in the past year, and I came like I’ve never come before. The release was so powerful, I still remember it as well, when I used to hold the belief that an orgasm was an orgasm.

Duly noted from that night henceforth, not all orgasms are created equal.

And it was only the mental image of what Stone could do for me that brought about the release.

Imagine what the real man could do for you?

I refuse. Because I wasn’t seeking something physical from a man like him.

And that was the crux. I thought he was different.

When I finally glance in his direction, giving in to the temptation, like it’s okay to look at the delicious cookie display as long as you don’t take one, my brows crease when I witness Stone looking back at me with equal irritation.

How dare he be annoyed with me!

“You two playing or what?”

Sebastian Sylver, the youngest brother in their family, pulls my attention away from the oldest, but I can’t ignore how my pulse still races.

Sebastian had been a real wild card, from what Aunt Trudy told me, and he eventually got into trouble with the law. He even did some jail time.

I shiver at the thought, knowing where my mother spends her days.

The reminder yanks my gaze back to Stone, who is watching his youngest sister, Valentine—Vale—kissing a man just beyond the baseball diamond confines.

Apparently, Sebastian was not addressing Stone and me, but the couple who appear madly in love with one another.

I sigh over the obvious attraction and deep display of affection, causing my gaze to return to Stone.

Dammit. I don’t want to look, but his focus remains on the approaching couple. His broad shoulders tense. His jaw tight. Even his mustache looks stern as he squints in their direction.

His body language suggests that beneath the surface, something is bothering him, and I remind myself I don’t care.

He isn’t my business.

I shouldn’t feel even a twinge of sympathy for him.

Still, he’s instantly black when he’s typically soothing blue, and I question only briefly what could cause such a sturdy man to look momentarily battered.

Again. Not my concern.

Until his gaze suddenly locks on me.

There are so many shades to Stone.

The hesitant hue of stalling in a hallway, lingering to look too long at me. The playful palette, momentarily pretending to be my blind date, and then shifting into a comfortable color of communication. Talking and listening. Teasing and sharing. When we danced, he was the soothing sound associated with blue water. Eventually, he was a cobalt flame of desire, the flick of a flare when he kissed me.

And all those sapphire shades were tainted, dull and dim, when I learned he had good reason not to invite himself into my room.