Page 7 of Sterling Stone

“For this project, I’ll actually be teaching my techniques to kids at the university. Art really saved me when I was younger, and I’m thrilled to pass on what I know to others.”

His grin grows almost full wattage, like he hears my excitement and reciprocates it. I recall what he said about my book—a weapon of words. That smile of his at high blast might be just as lethal.

Eventually, I remember that conversations should be two-sided, and I ask what he does.

The corner of his mouth twitches, but it isn’t as easy as I’ve seen. “Nothing as exciting as painting murals to emphasize the spirit of a community.” He takes another sip of his beer, which he’s been ignoring during my artistic deluge.

I smile at what he’s excavated about my work, but still wish he’d share a bit more about himself.

“You gonna eat that cupcake or are you saving it?” he asks, changing the subject and nodding toward the dessert I almost forgot I ordered.

Digging a fork into the moist goodness, because I’d have frosting in my nose if I picked up the cupcake and bit into it, I hold the first bite out toward him.

“Ladies first,” he says, waving his hand toward me.

As I wrap my lips around the sweet sensation, humming with pleasure, I notice the way his throat rolls as he watches me. Chewing slowly, I lick my lips, and his gaze follows the path of my tongue until I dig my teeth into my lower lip. The heat in his eyes proves I’m having an effect on him.

There’s something about Samson that continues to give off warm tones of stable beige and denim blue in a comforting way.

His knee twitches, knocking into mine, and he clears his throat, sitting taller, making me realize how close we’ve been sitting. Glancing at the bar, he flips his phone, which I hadn’t noticed on the counter, and he taps the screen, reading the time.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath.

“Big date?” I tease, hating how the words come out with a pinch of envy. Earlier, he hinted at me having a husband, and I noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding band. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a woman still waiting on him.

“My brother has a fight tonight, and I’d hoped to attend, but I missed it.”

“I’m so sorry.” I swallow back a splash of regret along with the relief that it isn’t another woman. “I’ve been so busy blabbing about myself⁠—”

“I like hearing your voice.” His head swings upward, gaze landing on my lips, and I’m so startled by the admission that I stumble for a response.

“And it’s not like he knew I was coming, anyway,” he adds.

“Sounds like a story.” I wiggle my brows and slice into the cupcake again.

“Definitely not as good as alien lovers, I imagine.”

My book. I choke on embarrassment. I’m not ashamed of reading romance or ones as outrageous as alien lovers, but I still feel a little guilty about the fictional truth.

Alien dicks are big, and they know how to handle that girth.

With cupcake on my fork again, I hold out the next bite for him. As his mouth opens, and his lips wrap around the tines, he holds still a second, keeping his eyes on me before sliding his closed lips down the fork. Just as I’m about to pull it free from his mouth, his teeth briefly clamp on the metal tines. His mustache twitches before he releases the utensil and slowly pulls away, taking his sweet time to chew. The corner of his mouth holds a drop of frosting, and I reach out for it, swiping the mess with my thumb.

Without thinking, I set my finger against my own mouth and suck.

The flare in his eyes is a flame of brilliant blue and dark navy with a splash of sunshine.

“Anyway . . . ” he says, like a punctuation on the night.

Panic strikes. I’m not ready for our time to end.

“I love this song,” I blurt, although I have no idea what’s playing overhead. Something sultry and country, and a bit too fast for my next comment. “We should dance.”

He arches those thick brows.

“I mean sometime. In the future.” What the hell are you saying, Taxi? Implying you’ll see this man again. Acting like futures are on your calendar. Don’t chase, dammit.

“I just mean, you seem like a man who can dance. You had that whole one-two step happening earlier in the hallway.” I good-naturedly mock him by digging my teeth into my lower lip, doing my best impression of a white man’s overbite, then fist my hands in the air and pump out my chest three times, making a fool of myself.