Page 64 of Sterling Stone

It’s late. He should go home, but I don’t want him to leave. Just like last night, there’s something about his presence that brings me comfort.

We’re both tired, but I’m also not ready to sleep. His rejection for something more last night was warranted, but I don’t know that he’d willing sleep with me again, coiled around me like a human security blanket.

After a squeeze on the two fingers I’m still holding, I release them and head for the kitchen while Stone reaches for the remote.

When I return to the living room with a giant bowl of popcorn and two cans of soda, Stone reads a list.

“We have Superman with Christopher Reeves, a true classic, or Man of Steel with some Henry Cavill guy.”

“Do not tell me you do not know who Henry Cavill is?” I add an mm-mm-mm to emphasize how fine that man is.

“Okay, we will not be watching Man of Steel,” Stone states, narrowing his eyes and scrolling back through the list of options.

“And why not?” I laugh, taking a seat a little too close to Stone once again and tossing popcorn into my mouth.

“Because my fragile ego cannot handle you drooling over another man with me sitting right beside you.” His eyes dance when he looks at me, but his smile is tight.

Jealous much? A little healthy envy is a turn on. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Mr. Sylver. That man is only a fantasy. And you are very real.”

As real as a dance in an empty bar and a kiss in a vacant hallway.

If I had a man who curled my toes when he kissed me, I might cling a little.

Aunt Trudy was ridiculous. I didn’t want to be a clinger like Mama, but then again, the situation with Stone is different. He’s been attentive and kind, respectful and present.

With a spark in his eye while he’s looking at me, I toss more popcorn in my mouth and chew, needing a distraction for my mouth, which might have already admitted too much.

“Delilah, you’re dangerous,” he teases.

I wink. “Just being little ole Taxi over here.” I smile, still chomping on popcorn.

Stone rakes his gaze over my position next to him. I’m on my knees, angled toward him, while balancing a big bowl in my lap.

And that gaze of his is a brush stroke of flaming blue, the incandescent kind that pops to life, hissing and dancing, teasing with heat and promises.

“Somehow Taxi seems even more dangerous.”

The corner of his mustache rises, his mouth slowly curling.

“Not sure I’m the only dangerous one in the room,” I whisper, keeping my gaze on him.

His focus falls to my lips. Unable to stop myself, I smile, taking my time to curve my mouth, dragging out his attention there.

Irrationally, I want to dump this bowl of popcorn off my lap and climb into his instead. My blood rushes faster, pulse beating harder. I want this man with something deep within me I can’t quite explain.

Stone swallows thickly, chuckles softly, and turns his gaze back toward the television. He clicks on Man of Steel, and we blindly watch a beautiful man act as a superhero, when a real one sits beside me.

Because Stone Sylver must be made of steel and iron and every other metal there is, holding him back from kissing me, when he knows I want him to kiss me again.

And I think he wants to kiss me, too.

24

[Stone]

Afew days pass, and Taxi and I fall into a routine. Nights on the lumpy couch. Drives to the hospital. Rinse. Repeat.

However, the monotony of the days is getting to Taxi. Trudy sleeps often and long hours at a time, and Taxi has kind of a nervous energy about her. Like she needs to get out of the four-walled enclosure of Trudy’s room.