I want to tell someone.
No, I want to tell Iris.
I want to actually know her.
Iris saunters into my apartment like she owns the place.
She tosses her purse on the couch, spins on her heel, turns to me, motions come here.
My lips curl into a smile. She's cute tired.
She puts a hand on her hip. "Do I have to get started myself?"
"Fuck yeah." My tongue slides over my lips. "Can I watch?"
"You want to watch me touch myself?"
"You're really asking me that question?"
"Yeah."
"Of course."
"Oh." Her cheeks flush. "I just… I never thought anyone… I've never done that."
"You want to?"
Her nod is slow. Needy.
"You awake enough?"
"Haha. Very funny." She takes a step backward. "I'll have you know I'm running on an exquisite blend of caffeine and sugar."
"And that never leads to a crash."
"Ever."
"You're an addict."
All that joy falls off her face. She shakes it off. Forces a smile. "We all have our vices." She plays with her skirt as she takes another step backward. "I am going to start without you."
"Good."
She spins on her heel and skips into my bedroom. She leaves the door open a crack. So I can see her strip out of her dress. Toss her bra aside. Push her panties to her knees.
Fuck, I do want to watch this.
In one minute.
I move to the bathroom, piss, wash my hands, return to the main room.
My cell sits in my jeans like a rock. It taunts me. What if Bree didn't get home okay? What if she's walking the streets somewhere? What if you're responsible for your sister's death?
I try to shake it off, but it won't go.
Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me? My girl—well, whatever I should call Iris—is teasing me with touching herself and my head isn't in the game.
This isn't me.
I move into the bedroom. I need to ease myself into it. To—
Iris is naked in my bed. It's a beautiful fucking sight.
But she isn't touching herself.
She's curled up on her side, fast asleep.
I leave my phone on the dresser, strip to my boxers, and get in bed behind her.
I only mean to hold her for a minute.
But as soon as my eyelids press together, the world drifts away.
The apartment smells like coffee.
The other side of the bed is warm. Iris just got up. We slept together without sleeping together.
I'm not stupid.
I know that means something.
And wanting to share all this shit with her…
I stretch my arms over my head as I rise. My cell is still sitting on my dresser. Still off. Still mocking me.
There's a sound in the kitchen. Humming. Iris is humming one of those mellow acoustic songs.
I listen as I boot up my cell. A dozen excuses from Sabrina pop up in text message form. Bullshit about how she is sober. About how she's going to stay sober. And a voicemail from my dad. I hit play on the message and hold the phone to my ear.
"Walker, come to dinner tonight and we'll talk. Your sister is doing well, but she misses you. She needs your support. I know you work weekends. If you're busy tonight, call me and we'll make other arrangements. We eat at seven sharp, the same as always." His voice softens. "I love you."
The line clicks.
He thinks she's doing well.
How the fuck can someone so smart be this clueless?
I leave my phone on the counter, head to the bathroom to go through my routine, move into the kitchen.
Iris is leaning against the counter, her fingers wrapped around an oversized white mug, her lips pressed into a smile. Her expression gets sheepish as her eyes find mine. "You win that round."
Fuck, her smile does things to me. Pushes aside all the shit bouncing around my head.
I don't run away from things.
But right now…
"No." I move closer. Wrap my arms around her waist. She's wearing clothes. An Inked Hearts t-shirt Ryan designed and a pair of my boxers. "We both lost."
Her smile spreads over her cheeks. "Is everything good? Last night…"
I can't think about it right now. I need to clear my head. I need to be someplace that makes sense. "We'll talk about it later."
She nods, accepting it.
It's true. I am going to tell her. And figure out how the fuck this can be casual if I'm confessing all the ugly shit in my head.
"I'll make you breakfast." I slide my hand under her t-shirt. Press my palm into her stomach. I want to fuck her senseless, yeah, but I want my arms wrapped around her more.
It's weird.
She looks up at me with a soft smile. Shakes her head. "I'll cook."
"Set my kitchen on fire?"
"I'm not that hopeless."
I arch a brow.
She steps back to fold her arms. Cocks her hips. Dons that adorable don't mess with me look. "I'll prove it."
I motion to the stove. "Go ahead."
"Maybe… just, well, I am going to look up a recipe."
"And follow it to a T?"
"Of course. That's how you learn. Or you… you don't use recipes?"
"They're boring."
"Then I'm boring."
"You're not."
Her cheeks flush. "Thanks." She moves to the fridge, pulls the door open, assess the offerings. "Eggs. And bacon."
"I can walk you through it."
She looks to me and cocks a brow. "I suppose a hands-on lesson is better than a recipe." Her gaze trails over my chest, stomach, crotch. "And later…"
"You want to get hands on?"
She laughs. "Okay. I'm not a dirty talk expert yet."
"You'll get there."
Her flush spreads over her chest. She makes a show of bending over to reach for something in the fridge.
Fuck, she has a nice ass.
That's a perfect way to turn off my thoughts.
I bring my hand to her ass. Tug the boxers up her thigh. Run my fingers over her skin. "After."
"Oh." She slides the eggs back onto the shelf. Rises to her feet. Presses the door closed.
I bring both hands to her hips and pin her to the refrigerator door.
Her breath gets heavy. "You have a thing for the kitchen."
"I have a thing for your body against mine." I can't exactly deny the pattern. I slide her shorts down her ass. I'm moving too fast. Using her.
Usually, that doesn't bother me. Yeah, I'm an asshole. Whatever. It's not like I'm lying to anyone. I make it clear it's just sex. So what if I'm using a woman to get out of my head?
She's doing the same.
But Iris…
She arches her back, pressing her ass against my hard-on. "Walker…"
"You want me to stop?"
"No."
I push the boxers to her feet.
Her fingers dig into the fridge. Her breath gets heavy as I pull her t-shirt over her head and toss it on the floor.
I bring one hand to her chest and brush my thumb against her nipples.