"You want me to stop?"
No. "What the hell do you think you're doing throwing guys off me?"
He holds my body against his. "I don't want anyone else touching you."
"You don't get a say in that."
"I know." He pulls me closer anyway.
Fuck, it feels good.
I let my eyelids flutter together. I soak up all the warmth of his touch. It feels right. For the first time since I climbed out of his bed, I feel whole.
His voice is soft. Sincere. "I can't stop thinking about you."
"You want me or you don’t, Walker. You can't have it both ways."
"I know." He steps backward. Takes my hand and motions to the edge of the dance floor.
What the hell does this mean?
I should demand an explanation.
But I don't. I follow him off the dance floor. All the way to the back entrance.
To a dark alley.
The door swings shut.
Music pours through its cracks.
Walker brings one hand to my hip and the other to my cheek. "Why'd you leave the other morning?"
"You hate me."
He shakes his head. "No. I want to hate you. But I can't."
"What the hell is this?"
"You were supposed to give it back, Iris. You were supposed to make it stop."
I swallow hard.
"Nothing makes sense to me anymore."
"Then let me explain."
He nods. "After."
"After?" Oh. After.
He presses his forehead to mine. "This is the only thing that makes sense." His fingers dig into my hip. "Tell me you need me."
"I do."
"That you want this." His voice drops to something equal parts demanding and desperate. "Tell me you want to come on my cock in this dirty alley."
"Tell me it isn't the last time."
"I can't." His fingers dig into my skin. "I want to listen." He drags his lips over my chin, neck, earlobe. "After that, I don't know."
That's fair.
Or maybe that's my libido talking.
At the moment, I don't really care.
He smells so good. Like the soap in his shower. Like Walker.
I reach for the reasonable part of my brain. "Someone will see."
He traces the hem of my dress. "Do you care?"
"No."
"Did you go out looking for someone to take home?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"No one is you." I brush my cheek against his.
His fingers skim my inner thighs. "Tell me you want this, sweetness."
I nod.
"Tell me you want to come on my cock."
"I do. Please."
His fingers curl into my panties. Slowly, he pushes them off my hips.
He bends to pull them to my ankles. Then off my feet, one at a time.
He drags his fingertips up my body as he rises. Higher, higher, there.
He teases me with one finger. "Fuck, you're wet."
I reach for him. Get his waistband. Slide my palm over his crotch. "You're hard."
He nods as he drives two fingers into me.
I fumble over his button. His zipper.
There. I push his jeans off his hips. The boxers.
Mmm.
That's Walker, hard and ready for me.
About to be mine.
I pull my dress to my waist.
He brings his hands to my hips, lifts me and pins me to the wall in one swift motion.
I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his shoulders.
He stares down at me.
I dig my fingers into his skin. Nod yes, please, everything.
Slowly, his tip strains against me.
Then it's one inch at a time.
Fuck.
It's like coming home.
This is where I belong. With him. His.
No secrets, no lies, no bullshit.
Nothing but our bodies.
Nothing but—
His lips find mine. His kiss is hard. Hungry. Desperate.
Mine is the same.
Nothing else makes sense.
Nothing but this.
Nothing but him.
I bring one hand to his hair. I rock my hips to meet him.
He rocks back, driving deeper, pinning me to the wall.
It's hard and dirty and rough and perfect.
His tongue slides around mine.
His fingers dig into my flesh.
He fucks me with steady thrusts, winding me up, giving me everything he has.
My clit rubs against his pubic bone.
My hand knots in his hair.
My sex clenches.
Fuck.
Each thrust tightens the knot inside me. Pleasure pools between my legs. It aches, being this close to release.
He winds me tighter.
Tighter.
There.
I groan against his lips as I come. My sex pulses around him, pulling him closer, pushing him over the edge.
I can feel it in the way his nails dig into my skin, in the way he nips at my lip, in the way he shakes.
A few more thrusts and he's pulsing, groaning my name as he comes inside me.
Fuck, that feels good.
He feels good.
I let my muscles go slack.
He pulls me closer. Sets me on the ground. Looks down at me like I'm everything he wants.
Maybe I am.
Maybe this is going to be okay.
Maybe he really will be mine.
Chapter Forty-Three
Iris
Walker's car hugs the curve of the Malibu mountains.
Tegan and Sara flows from the speakers. The song is soft, remorseful, a text alert?
Huh?
Oh. My phone flashes.
Leighton: You fucked him, didn't you?
I grab my cell and shoot her a reply.
Iris: Maybe.
Leighton: Girl, if he pulls any more "I don't know" shit, I will kick his ass.
Iris: You, personally?
Leighton: I might ask Brendon, Ryan, or Dean to do it for me. But I'll make sure it gets done.
Iris: Thanks.
Leighton: Anytime.
"That Leighton?" he asks.
"Yeah. Just telling her I left."
"She want to kill me yet?"
"Yeah, but that seems normal for her."
"It is."
I set my phone in the cup holder, lean back in my seat. Watch the ocean whiz by. "Where are we going?"
"Someplace where we can see the stars."
That sounds perfect. Though it also means heading way into Malibu. Which means we're stuck together for a long drive back to my place if that doesn't go well.
It's a bold play.
But that's Walker.
He wants something, he takes it.
I just hope he wants me.
The sky is dotted with stars. They're everywhere. Brighter than I've ever seen them.
Walker pulls his leather jacket from the backseat, slings it over my shoulders, one at a time, then he grabs a blanket from the trunk.
"You keep that in your car?"
He nods.
"For impromptu picnics?"
"You never know when you'll need the perfect scenery for a heartfelt conversation."
My lips press together. "Really?"
His laugh lights up his dark eyes. "No. It's for after I surf."
"Oh." That makes more sense.