Slowly, Walker peels his body off mine. "You have a trash can?"
"Yeah." I motion to the one next to my bed. "There's tissues—"
"I see them."
He takes care of the condom then sits on the bed next to me.
I roll onto my elbow and look up at him.
His dark eyes are so pretty.
His everything is so pretty. Not that he's really pretty. He's more handsome. Exactly handsome. Exactly halfway between rugged and pretty.
He brushes my hair behind my ear. "You want to go for round two?"
"You can?"
His laugh is soft. "I need ten minutes."
I nod. Yes. Round two is a good idea. And maybe three.
But that's it.
Tonight.
Only tonight.
Chapter Three
Iris
There are arms around me.
Warm, strong arms.
My eyes blink open.
Bright light flows through the blinds.
The arms turn me over.
That's him. Walker. He pushes himself up. Stretches said arms over his head as he yawns.
He looks even more irresistible with the late morning light falling over his chiseled torso.
His dark eyes fix on mine. "Sleep. It's early."
I nod to the window. "How early?"
"For a Sunday." He grabs his jeans from the floor and pulls them on. "I have to go. Work." He pulls his t-shirt over his head, covering that perfect torso.
I want to trace all the lines of his ink. Again.
I want…
I want to get up. To make him coffee. And breakfast. Which is ridiculous. I can't cook to save my life.
Does pouring milk into cereal count as making someone breakfast?
Does a guy this cut even eat carbs?
I swallow hard. What the hell do I say here? "It was fun." Amazing. The best sex I've had in forever. Or maybe ever. Definitely ever.
"Yeah. It was." He leans over the bed and presses his lips to my forehead. "Sleep tight, Iris."
I nod. "The front door locks automatically." Look at me, one-night stand expert. I make a mental note to high-five someone, but there isn't anyone I want to share this with. Only Lily.
My eyelids flutter together.
The door opens and closes.
I have that appointment.
I have to get up soon.
But not yet.
I pull the covers over my head.
And I let my head fill with memories of his body against mine.
The apartment smells like coffee. Good coffee.
I push myself up. Slowly, I peel off the covers, step onto the hardwood, and move into the main room.
Sure enough, there's coffee warming on the counter.
And there's a note next to it. Pen on a piece of paper.
Call me if you want to go again.
- Walker
And there's his number.
It's not exactly a profession of undying love.
It's an open invitation to booty call.
I want to sleep with him again.
God how I want to sleep with him again.
But that's far too dangerous.
I like him.
I don't want to like him.
I don't want to give anyone the chance to hurt me again.
I tear the note in half and drop it in the trash under the sink.
Chapter Four
Walker
"You smell like pussy." Dean smiles wide. It's his usual I'm going to turn everyone's life upside down smile.
The guy's been my closest friend for ten years now, and I'm still not sure when he's serious and when he's fucking with me.
"And?" I move to the hand sink in the back and turn it on.
Dean follows. "And you've been finished for two minutes without offering details."
"Guess I'm not as depraved as you." I run the water warm and pump soap into my hands.
"You'll get there."
I rinse. Towel dry. Turn off the faucet. "We all need goals." Not that I have any at the moment. I have everything I want. I'm a co-owner. The shop is kicking ass. I spend my days putting ink to people's skin and my nights enjoying the women of the greater Los Angeles area.
Life is good.
Except for shit with Bree.
But that's staying in the corner of my mind.
I'm done picking up the pieces.
I'm done hoping she'll give a fuck about getting better.
I'm done, period.
"So…" He leans against the wall and shoots me a look. Spill it.
"It was amazing." There's something about Iris. Not just the way her body responds to mine. Or her lush thighs against my cheeks. Or her soft tits.
Fuck, I'm getting distracted.
Dean taps his toe against the floor. "That's it? It was amazing?"
"Yeah."
"You like her or something?"
"I'm twenty-four."
"And?"
"Don't you think we're getting old for this shit?"
"Are you hearing this, Leigh?" He turns to the front desk. Shoots Leighton an isn't this the worst thing ever look.
"I don't know. Who's Leigh?" She folds her arms.
"It's cute," Dean insists.
"What if I call you D?" she asks.
"Don't. He'll like it," I say.
He's already smiling. "That's how you think of me, as D?"
"As a dick, yeah." She shakes her head, sending her short hair in every direction. It's a purple-grey color now. It's nearly the same cut as Iris's, but it looks different on her.
Don't get me wrong. Leighton is a babe and she dresses to kill. But I don't see her as a potential fuck. I know her too well.
"You're both perverts." She brushes her hair behind her ear.
"And that's a bad thing?" Dean feigns offense.
"Don't you have an appointment?" she asks.
"He's late." Dean turns to me. "What was she like?"
"Responsive."
"That's it?" Dean shakes his head. "You're going soft on me."
Leighton laughs. "Had that problem before?"
"Have you?" He shoots her an accusatory look.
"Yeah. All women have. And most men too. Your fucking dicks are prima donnas." She folds her arms. "With how much you drink…"
He flips her off.
She laughs. "Hmm. Seems personal, D. Something you want to confess?"
"I know my limits," he says.
"That means you've tested them," she teases.
"I know my dick better than you do, honey. Now, if you want to get to know it—"
"I know enough. You never stop talking about it. If I have to hear about how mind-blowing you think your Prince Albert is one more fucking time—"
"Sounds like you want to try it out."
She ignores him. Turns to me. "You were wearing that yesterday."
"We already established that he smells like pussy." Dean shakes his head. "I can't believe this shit. No details."
Leighton rolls your eyes. "You're like a child."