But it's too much.
I want those gone.
I want my thoughts gone.
I want him in my bed, between my legs, groaning my name.
Iris: You're going to kill me.
Walker: Good.
Iris: How are you going to the gym? I can't fathom that. My thighs are murder.
Walker: I get any credit for that?
Iris: Maybe.
Walker: Iris, you wound me.
Iris: You get some credit.
Most of the credit.
Walker: Is it good sore or bad sore?
Iris: There's a good sore?
Walker: Yeah. You feel like you worked hard. Like a badass.
Iris: I do feel like I worked hard. And like everything hurts.
Walker: You need someone to kiss it better?
Iris: I knew this was a booty call.
Walker: It could be. But you know it's the twenty-first century. Women can make the first move.
Iris: Uh-huh.
Walker: You can booty call me.
Iris: I'll consider that.
Walker: Me too. In explicit detail.
Iris: You're dirty.
Walker: You love it.
I do.
Walker: Don't worry. It'll rub off on you.
It already is. I get the double entendre right away. Rub off. Like rub one out. Like he's going to come on me.
Usually, that kind of thing squicks me out.
But the thought of Walker coming on my ass, my back, my stomach, my chest…
Fuck. It's hot in here.
I suck cold brew through my straw. It's mostly ice. It's not enough to cool me down.
Must change topic.
Iris: Did you talk to your friend?
Walker: A little.
Iris: And?
Walker: He's acting like everything is normal.
Iris: Hmm.
Walker: You're doing it again.
Iris: I've been doing it all afternoon. I have a problem.
Walker: You aren't at home?
Iris: At a coffee shop.
Walker: Ah.
Iris: What do you mean ah?
Walker: Explains your good mood.
Iris: You don't want to take credit for that?
Walker: Post-orgasm glow only lasts twelve hours.
Iris: I didn't realize.
Walker: I'm sure you could do more extensive testing. That's a ballpark.
Iris: I think I have to.
Walker: You're a slave to science.
Iris: Thanks for noticing.
Walker: You have school Wednesday?
Iris: In the morning. But I should study.
Walker: You could study. Or you could come on my hand at Griffith Park.
Iris: Oh.
Walker: Have you ever been?
Iris: Of course. I'm from the valley, remember?
Walker: And you decided you like hiking. And I like watching you come. It sounds like a perfect mash-up.
Iris: It does.
Walker: I'll pick you up at three, buy you dinner, have you home in time for your Thursday morning class.
Iris: Have you heard of asking?
Walker: I'll see you at three, Iris.
Chapter Sixteen
Iris
I slide my hoodie off my shoulders and tie it around my waist. It's way, way too warm for a spring afternoon. Especially in the shade of the trees.
God, there are trees everywhere. I can't remember the last time I felt this surrounded by nature.
It's calm. Peaceful. Beautiful.
Walker chuckles as he gives me a long once over.
I clear my throat. "Yes?"
"I dig the look."
Okay, it's dorky as hell wearing my hoodie like this. But it's hot. "You're jealous."
"I am." He slides his hoodie off his shoulders and ties it around his waist. He turns and strikes a model-worthy pose. "How do I look?"
Ridiculous. But—"Still hot."
"It's my curse."
"How do you deal?"
"Some days, it's hard."
"Only some?"
He laughs as he slides his arms around my waist. His lips brush my neck. My cheek. He cups my ass over my shorts. "You wear this to drive me crazy, sweetness?"
"Maybe."
He presses his lips to mine. "You'll regret that."
I shake my head. I regret a lot of things. Too many. But not whatever I did to fill his dark eyes with all that desire.
He nips at my ear. "You drive me out of my fucking mind. You know that?"
My nod is heavy.
"Fuck. You're distracting me. Already forgot why we're here."
"Something about my love of hiking and your love of watching me come."
"Not helping." He chuckles. "You did that on purpose."
Definitely. I nod.
"Bad girl." He drags his fingertips over my ass and hips. "Are you wearing panties?"
"If I'm not, will that make you crazier?"
"Yeah." His voice drops an octave. "But you're coming on my hand either way."
"Now?" Now is good. Now is great.
He traces the outline of my panties, over my shorts. "No. Not until you're so desperate you're begging for it."
Mmm. He's way too good at this.
Walker takes a half step backward. He intertwines his fingers with mine and leads me up the path.
This is more of a stroll than a hike. Not that I'm complaining. The speed is just right. My blood is pumping. My body is buzzing with endorphins. With that yes, this is what I should be doing feeling.
With desire.
God, he has a nice ass. Strong legs. Broad shoulders. He's like a magazine model. He's so fine it hurts.
Lily would be so jealous. And so happy for me.
If she was willing to talk to me.
Nope. Not going there. I'm not here to dwell on past mistakes. I'm here to enjoy the fresh air and the view. "You come here a lot."
"No. Haven't been in forever."
"You don't bring women here for a picnic and a fuck?"
His lips curl into a smile. "I don't usually leave the apartment."
"Ah."
"Ah?" He arches a brow. Copies my tone. "How does that make you feel, Ms. Avery?"
"That was not a shrink ah."
He nods.
"Maybe a little."
He holds his hands close together then pulls them apart in the a lot gesture.
"When's the last time you went on an actual date?"
"Depends on the definition."
"Like this."
"We don't do dates."
We don't. That's a rule. But we're here. And this is clearly a date. Or… Well… "You're going to make me come. That makes this a hookup."
He smiles and shakes his head whatever you want to tell yourself. "It's been a while."
"Just swiping right?"
"You know dating apps?"
"I know of them."
"You dumped your ex at Christmas?"
"Yeah."
"So, it's been four months."
"About that." Have I really been sober for almost four months? And single for longer? It's hard to believe. The last three years are one blur of shitty jobs, bad friends, and Ross, all dulled by the magic of opiates and booze.
"You squeeze in a lot of rebound sex?"
The bounciness in his voice pulls me back to the moment.