“Iris,” I whisper as my orgasm wrecks me.
We fall to our sides and lie there, sweaty, wrapped in each other’s arms. I pull out of her but don’t rush to deal with the condom, not when it will break a moment this fucking rare.
“I need to tell King,” I say eventually. I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it’s fair she knows. “He ordered me not to do this. King is worried about ramifications. With your uncle. And the guy who bothered you at the café? He’s from a group called Righteous Brotherhood. Nasty shit. Scumbags. It could all cause problems.”
Iris strokes her fingertip from my forehead down the side of my jaw. “He’s right about Cillian. That night still causes so much trouble for everyone,” she says, turning in my arms to face me.
“What do you mean?”
“The night that started all the trouble for your club. I don’t know much about it because Cillian would never tell me all the details. Just that the Iron Outlaws and the Ó Ceallaighs had a deal that went wrong. Guns and receipts. My dad ended up getting shot.”
It dawns on me that no one told her what we recently learned, thanks to a tip from her uncle. How Clutch’s father made a deal with her father to rip off the club. And how King’s father Camelot had known and, through a plan with his wife, Gwen’s mom, saved Cue Ball’s life by sending him to prison instead of killing him, as they should have done for double-crossing the club.
A life saved for a life saved.
Cue Ball had rescued King’s father in Iraq when they’d served together.
As a veteran, I understand that kind of loyalty to the man who once saved your life, but Camelot’s decision festered for years until Cue Ball felt he could get his revenge.
I need King’s permission to tell Iris more, but he isn’t going to agree.
So I respond to the simple statement she made. “The club’s relationship with your uncle is at best strained. There’s been a fragile peace. But your uncle isn’t stupid. He now knows the deal went sour because of the Iron Outlaws. And that kind of knowledge can sometimes cause a man to do foolish things. He also told Clutch, our vice-president who came to your house with me that day, to stop me from driving by your home. He doesn’t want me around you. Or you around me.”
Iris looks puzzled. “He wants what?”
“Me to stay away from you.”
“No, that’s . . .” She stops and shakes her head, clearly puzzled. “I mean, I’m a grown woman. He doesn’t have a say in who I date or don’t date.”
“We dating, little chick?”
She looks away, but I can’t miss the way the corners of her lips turn up into a smile.
“I certainly hope so.” The words are so clipped and proper, I can’t help but laugh.
“Yeah, Iris. We’re dating. And we’re going to talk to King, and then Cillian. I’m not scared of either one of them. Any sign of trouble, we split.”
Her eyes flash back to mine. “We stop seeing each other?”
I shake my head. “No. You and I leave town. Go set up somewhere else. We’ll transfer to Allentown. You can teach, and I’ll join the chapter there. No one dictates how we live our lives.”
Three little lines wrinkle on her forehead. “They aren’t going to stop trying. Cillian certainly won’t.” There is a weight to her words I don’t understand. Perhaps she doesn’t believe we can sort this out.
“Trust me. I can navigate our way through this, I promise.”
Iris brushes her lips across mine. “Okay. How do we do this?”
And a plan begins to formulate in my mind.
We end up staying later than we realize at the cottage because we deal with medical shit. She puts in a request to her doctor’s office to get a prescription of the pill. And we both get tested before I drive us home at a leisurely pace, just because I like the feel of her on my bike and I’m not ready to give her up yet.
It’s dark when I pull up on her driveway. I miss the warmth of her behind me as soon as she slips off. After tugging her to me, I remove her helmet, then my own. “Lips, little chick.”
She grins as she kisses me softly. “Thank you for a lovely weekend.”
“You sure you don’t want company?” I glance up at her house, then run my hand over her ass cheeks before squeezing them firmly. “I’m really good company.”
“You are highly distracting company,” she mutters, even as she tilts her head so I can kiss the side of her neck.
“I feel like that’s a positive.”
Finally, she playfully shoves me away. “I have laundry, and food prep for the week, and lesson plans, and—”
“Okay, okay. I’ll go home alone and cook my own dinner.”
“You’re not mad, are you?” she asks.
I place my hands on her hips and shake her gently. “Just messing with you. I get it. You need time to rest that pussy of mine and can’t say it due to that sentence problem you’ve got.”
Her mouth opens, and then she screws up her face. “You are the worst.”
But she kisses me anyway when I pull her close. I take her keys from her hand and lead her inside.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Security check. Stay here.”
“Are you going to speak to King tonight?” she asks as I check the kitchen.
“Thought I told you to stay near the door. And no. They’ll all be halfway to hammered at this point. I need to see him when he’s sober. Less chance of him accidentally killing me.”
“Will it really be that bad?” she asks, draping her hands over my shoulders.
For her sake, I smile. “I’m just teasing. But it’s the kind of conversation where sober heads prevail. By the time you finish school tomorrow, I’ll have spoken to him. You ever carried a gun, Iris?”
She scrunches up her nose. “God, no.”
I laugh. “We need to fix that. At least have one at home so you can protect yourself. For tonight, use hairspray with a lighter. Hammer. Large knife. Put something next to your bed.”
She salutes me, and I can’t help but smile. “Yes, sir.”
I place my thumb on her lower lip, nudging it open. “I like hearing sir from your lips. Get some rest, little chick.” I steal another kiss, then see myself out.
A cool wind blows along her street, and I look up at the moon. There’s a dark ring around it, and something makes the hairs on my neck stand on end. Maybe I’m imagining things, but I swear I hear the hum of a bike disappear in the distance.
I glance back up at her house, wondering if I should insist on staying.
Or perhaps King is right . . . I always feel like something is off.
And when I finally ride home, I feel as though I just left the very best part of me in Iris’s living room.
21
IRIS
The following morning, I wake up alone and it feels unusual.
Anticlimactic, even. Although I consider what Spark said. About King worrying about the trouble Cillian could cause. He has good reason to be concerned.
Spark spent the night at his own place at my request. I got all the stuff done that I needed to. Clean laundry hangs in my closet. Lessons are planned. And I shaved my legs as best I could in the bath without getting my arm wet, because I’m meant to leave the brace on twenty-four seven unless it’s a life-or-death situation.