Page 46 of Resist
How does he look?
Trick question, you already know how he looks.
MADDIE
I don’t. How does he look?
He’s very rudely flashing his muscular forearms with no regard for innocent passersby.
FOXY
The audacity.
MADDIE
Is that all he’s flashing? Maybe if you ask him nicely he’ll flash something else for you.
I hate my friends, but I did need a moment of levity before Sterling comes back, and I have to tell him the truth.
The chair squeals against the floor tiles as he pulls it out with his foot. He places the tray on the table, and I help him move the drinks and the plate with two giant chocolate chip cookies that look like they may be gooey and still warm. There’s a shine on the chocolate that suggests it might be a little melty.
So naturally, my thoughts go to licking melted chocolate off Sterling’s body, or him licking chocolate off mine. Or both of us licking chocolate off each other’s bodies.
Fuck. Get it together, Corabelle.
Sterling nudges my foot with his, pulling my gaze from the steam rising from my oversized mug of coffee. He didn’t skimp on the size. I could take a bath in this cup.
“Relax,” he encourages, before taking a sip of whatever drink is in his cup. “I forgive you, it’s all good.”
There’s a guardedness that wasn’t there before he knew I lied to him, and I get it. It’s going to take time for him to lowerthat defense and rebuild whatever trust he fronted me when we met. I’m just glad he’s giving me the space to explain myself, because generally speaking, I fucking hate lying.
Dad lied to me once, when Mom got sick. He assured me it wasn’t that bad at all and a couple of doses of chemo would fix her right up. They knew from the moment she was diagnosed that she didn’t have long, but I thought she’d be right as rain after only a few months.
“You forgive me?” I drag my finger through the top of my mocha, collecting caramel drizzle to suck off seductively, except it plops right onto my chest. “I didn’t even apologize yet. I really am sorry.”
Why can’t we walk around with a button that opens the ground up underneath us when we are mortified and need a quick escape? Because I need that right now.
Sterling chuckles, leans across the two-seater table and brushes my shirt with his thumb before presenting it in front of my lips. I stare at his thumb, then his face, his full lips, his intense stare, and allow my tongue to dart out to taste the caramel.
When I don’t let go of his thumb, his lips tug into a half-smile. “You sure you’re not submissive?”
In reply, I bite down on his thumb, making him laugh.
Without a word, he gets up and goes to the counter, returning with a glass of water and a stack of napkins. Then he goes to town dabbing at the sticky surface of my shirt.
“I could do it myself, you know.”
He nods, intent on banishing all the sticky caramel from my boobs. “Yeah, but then I don’t get to stare at your cleavage while pretending to be a gentleman.”
The twinkle in his eyes unfurls a tightness in my chest. It’s a real moment, not forced. And I don’t like that it brings me relief.
I don’t get attached to people. Things, sure. I’ve had thesame pair of sneakers since college because I love them so much, even if they’ve got holes at the toe and the sole is well-worn. I bought three pairs of the same jeans when I finally found ones that hugged my ass right but didn’t leave a giant gap around the waist.
But people?
Other than Dad, Madeline and Phoenix... This is new, and I’d feel much better if little blasts of heat didn’t light up in my chest when he smiles his real smile at me.
He brushes the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip. “Yes, Corabelle. I forgive you.”