He nods.
Warmth fills my chest. Possibilities scared me after the first time I bombed the GRE. That's why I started using. To erase those thoughts.
And now that I'm sober, they're scary in a different way. It's overwhelming, being a blank slate.
But I'm coming around.
Surfing, hiking, sleeping with a dirty talking sex god…
There's a lot of wonder in the world. I'm ready to find it. To open myself up to wanting things as badly as I wanted to get into grad school. To the disappointment that comes when things don't' work out.
I slide onto his lap. "Thank you."
"For?"
"Being here."
"Always."
"I'll hold you to that."
"Good." He unwraps the blanket and pulls me closer.
My hands go to his hair. My eyes fix on his. They're still beautiful, dark, filled with trust and affection.
I believe him.
That he'll be here.
That he'll be mine.
That he'll accept all of me.
He runs his fingertips over my cheeks and chin. Then he's cupping the back of my head with his hand.
He pulls me into a deep, slow kiss.
His tongue slides into my mouth.
Bit by bit, my body wakes up. The heaviness of the day fades away until I'm floating on a wave of desire.
Walker pulls my hoodie over my head.
I push his leather jacket off his shoulders.
He pulls me closer. Sucks on my bottom lip. Softly. Then harder.
It's so fucking good, but it's not enough.
I need every ounce of him. Every bit of his flesh against mine. Every hint of intimacy I can get.
I pull his t-shirt over his head. Then my tank top. My bra. My hands roam his shoulders, chest, stomach.
He feels so good against my palm. Warm. Hard. Alive.
But I need more.
I need all of him.
My lips find his. My kiss gets harder. Deeper. Needier.
All that affection pours from him to me.
And from me to him.
There's trust in his touch. Trust I don't deserve. Trust I desperately need.
His palm plants between my shoulder blades. Slowly, he drags his lips over my cheek and chin, down my neck, along my collarbone.
He takes my nipple into his mouth.
Fuck. That feels good.
My hands go to his hair.
My hips rock of their own accord.
He's hard under me. And I want that. I want every layer of clothes between us gone. I want every wall between us gone.
I can't have the latter. Not yet.
So I need this.
My hand knots in his hair.
He sucks softly. It sends pleasure straight to my core.
I grind against him.
"Walker." I squeeze my thighs against his hips. "Fuck me. Please."
He pulls me closer. Sucks a little harder. Then it's short flicks of his tongue. Long ones. Soft. Hard. He swirls his tongue around my tender bud. Scrapes his teeth against it.
He toys with me until I'm shaking then he moves to my other nipple and does it again.
I can't take the ache between my legs.
I need him.
I need him more than I've ever needed anything.
I grind against him. "Walker. Please."
He drags his fingertips down my spine, to the top of my panties, then all the way up to the base of my skull.
The softness of his touch sets me on fire.
My entire body is buzzing. Every nerve is awake and alive and screaming for more of him.
I shift my hips. Bring my hands to his jeans. Undo his button. Then the zipper.
I cup him over his boxers. He feels good in my hand, but it's not enough.
I kiss him hard and deep. Then my lips are on his cheek. His chin. His neck.
He groans as I suck on his skin.
His hands knot in my hair.
God, that sound is music. Poetry. Everything.
I do it again.
He groans a little louder.
I push his jeans off his hips as I suck on his neck. Then his boxers.
I wrap my hand around his cock. Pump him as I suck on his skin.
"Iris." His breath gets heavy. Needy.
Yes. That.
Slowly, I work my way down his torso. I drag my lips over his chest and stomach then I lower myself onto my knees.
I look up at him as I brush my lips against his cock.
He shudders.
I do it again.
A groan falls off his lips.
Again.
His palm presses against the back of my head, nudging me forward.
I torture him instead.
I flick my tongue against his tip.
His groan gets low, heavy.
I do it again.
Again.
I do it until he's shaking.
He sighs with pleasure as I take him into my mouth.
He tastes good, like salt and soap and Walker.
His skin is soft but he's so fucking hard.
I look up at him as I take him deeper.
His eyes go hazy with pleasure. His brow softens. His lips part with a groan.
I'm the one driving him out of his mind.
Right now, I'm the only thing he needs.
And that's exactly what I need.
I bring my hand to his hip, pull him closer to take him deeper.
Deeper.
It's too much. I nearly gag. But then that's not enough.
I swallow to relax my throat. My fingers dig into his skin. Again, I pull him closer.
Take him deeper.
Suck a little harder.
He presses his palm against my head, nudging me forward, commanding me.
I shouldn't like it.
But I do.
I let him guide me as I work him.
His touch gets harder.
His groans get louder.
He rocks his hips, thrusting into my mouth.
I press my tongue against the base of his tip. Relax my throat.
He rocks into me again.
Again.
There.
His hand knots in my hair.
His cock pulses.
My name falls off his lips as he fills my mouth. He's salty. Sweet.
I swallow hard.
He looks down at me like I'm heaven sent.
I push myself up. Climb into his lap.
He wraps his arms around me and holds me like he's never going to let me go.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Walker
I stretch my arms over my head as a yawn escapes my lips. I can't remember the last time I was tired from staying up talking.
There's something intoxicating about Iris. I want to wipe away every hint of pain in those gorgeous blue eyes. I want to destroy whoever or whatever caused that ache.
She deserves a life without hurt.
She deserves the entire fucking world.
I finish checking out my customer, give him the usual aftercare speech, head straight to the single cup coffee maker in the back. It's mediocre, but I need the caffeine.
"Oooh, make me one please," Leighton calls out from her spot at the counter. She presses her hands together—well, her Kindle is between them, but close enough—and shoots me puppy dog eyes.
"You ever get tired of begging?"
Her lips curl into a half smile. "You read my journal too?"
"You don't have a journal."
"That's what you think." She winks. "French Roast. Please. I'll love you forever."
"You won't now?"
She laughs. "Who knows?"
"You're lucky I'm in a good mood."