A Face Made For Daylight

There's a set of rickety stairs in between my heart and my head

*I'm really proud of this chapter!!  I'm so sorry I'm posting it close to midnight, had so much to do today! But I really love this chapter so much*  Enjoy my loves.

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A week has gone by since the incident, since she flicked a red-hot revelation off the tip of her tongue. His reaction to her confession was too calm. In truth, the kiss between her and Kid did a dozen somersaults and left Alistair supercharged with dueling emotions. But he wouldn't reveal it to her or come to terms with them himself. Stella didn't know if this was his way of truly accepting how badly she felt about it or his way of holding back so she can stay longer. For him to have her grow to like him. Stella didn't know how he felt. One day he was nice, the next he was cruel. But this week was different.

This week they talked about everything except things they really wanted to talk about. He didn't speak of Marie or Kid. Stella didn't reveal too much of her own personal life. All their conversations were friendly, calm, and fell flat. Alistair was distant for most of it. Stella felt a little torn as well. Kid told her he was going away for a while, to go back to New Orleans and deal with the carnage Marie left behind. Stella couldn't help but miss his presence. She was aware of her attraction to Kid, she felt it the moment she laid eyes on him. She didn't know if her attraction to Kid was a vision trick, because after all, he was a look like.

On the other hand, her banter with Alistair, their conversations, and the few moments she was able to feel his warmth and be in his embrace, stirred something in her she hasn't seen in a while. It was too soon and she didn't want to trust it.

She knew she was attracted to him but there was something else she refused to acknowledge, not yet. She was afraid of this type of feeling that shifts her and puts colour in her cheeks.

Like clockwork, Stella sat near Alistair at their now conversant setting. They sat in silence enjoying an extravagant post lunch coffee and dessert platter at the dining table. This once foreign place, has become their meeting place.

A Sinatra record played in the background, another one of his choosing. He was very particular about the music, very routine and adamant of his house rules. He insisted to Stella when he first met her to dine with him at the table and to be formally dressed. A rule she didn't care for because if she was going to look good, she wasn't going to do it for a man. Stella knew her worth, and in this situation, she held the cards as well.

She looked down at her jeans and blouse proud of her own unique comfortable style. She did question her choice however when she turned to see him sitting looking statuesque in a fitted navy suit with a buttoned-down black shirt underneath. She bit her bottom lip as her stare lingered down to his exposed chest and that golden chain. She remembered how she touched it momentarily. He was focused on his food, his thought somewhere else.

"Stella darling—" Alistair's silky voice snapped her back to reality. Her eyes met his. He was smirking, brows raised in her direction as he spoke softly. "—Now I know you were hoping for a bottle of whipped cream and my naked body for dessert but I promise you this Crème brûlée is a temporary replacement."

He winked at her licking his lips, his voice lowered leaning into her. "—fuck----the things I would do with a bottle of whipped cream, my tongue, and your----" His eyes slowly trailed down her body before landing back on her eyes crinkling his nose as he playfully spoke. "---cherry." He smirked leaning back as he dug into his dessert.

Stella rolled her eyes at him turning her attention to her dessert smiling to herself. At this point she was used to his flirtatious comments and would brush them off.