“I should be flattered you made up a job for me, huh?” Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “Men always seem to find good use for me, don’t they? What are my responsibilities exactly? Blow jobs under desks, quickies in the copy room? When do I start?” She drops to her knees in front of me and touches my belt. “Now?” Bitterness sets the lushness of her mouth into a hard line. “Or maybe you’d like to see the goods first?”
I’m stunned as she fumbles at the buttons holding her dress together, her fingers shaking as she undoes the top one and then another. The curve of her breasts swell over a black satin cup. I hate that my breath quickens and my dick stiffens at seeing even that much of her.
“I thought you’d like that,” she whispers, a tear splashing onto her hand.
“Stop, Iris,” I grit out. “It’s not supposed to be like this.”
“Like what?” Her fingers keep slipping buttons out of holes, revealing the taut line of her waist, the exaggerated curve from waist to hip. She’s so finely crafted, but I’d hate for her to think that’s all I want from her.
I go to my knees, still much taller than her, but at least now we’re on the same level. I quickly re-button her dress, ignoring the silky skin my knuckles brush over along the way. I cup her jaw and press our foreheads together. I gentle my grip on her, my displeasure and frustration softening when I feel her under my hands.
“You did this. I promise,” I say. “Jared had already given you the job before he even told me you called him.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but I rest my index finger over her lips. I have to get this out.
“When he told me about the job he’d already offered you . . .” I pause, making sure she hears it was a done deal before I was involved. “I admit, I was excited.”
Slight understatement.
“I wanted things to go well for you,” I continue, reluctantly dropping my finger from her mouth. “San Diego is one of the most expensive cities in the country. With an entry-level position, you wouldn’t have been able to afford the neighborhood you’re in. I wanted you and Sarai safe and in a good spot. I don’t expect or want anything in return. I haven’t set you up like a mistress or something.”
“It feels like it,” she says, but some of the tightness eases from her neck and shoulders.
“I don’t even own that house. One of the guys from the team dabbles in real estate on the side. It’s one of his properties. When he heard an Elevation employee, a single mom, needed a place, he knocked the rent down.”
The air begins loosening between us, and I risk taking her hand.
“And the daycare.” I shrug. “I don’t have a good excuse for that except . . . I wanted you to have Sarai close, but in Jared’s last employee survey, several moms indicated on-site daycare would be helpful. It’s not just for you. There were other kids there when you dropped Sarai off, right?”
Iris nods, searching my eyes for several seconds. “So there is a job?” she finally asks. “A real job? That phone interview Jared put me through wasn’t just him going through the motions for his brother’s girlfriend?”
Girlfriend?
Calm down.
She doesn’t mean it like that.
She isn’t saying . . . shit. Who am I kidding?
“Girlfriend?” I can’t resist asking. “Are you gonna be my girl, Iris?”
I’m still cupping her face, and her thick hair is falling across my fingers. She smells like paradise, and I’m not sure I can do this—can make it out of this room without kissing her. Without lifting her onto the conference room table, shoving that dress over her legs, and eating the hell out of her pussy. Because that’s pretty much all I can think about now that we’re this close. It’s like I haven’t had a meal since the last time I had her, and my mouth is watering imagining that clit, those lips, her juices. Her coming for me—coming in my mouth, dripping down my chin.
“I need to take it slow, August,” she whispers.
Slow.
That would be in direct contrast to my right-now fantasy. I struggle to command my body. I haven’t had sex in a really long time. Jared was right. I need to fuck, but the only girl I want is telling me she needs to go slow. And though my body is raging and burning and yearning to bury every inch I got inside of her, slow we will go.
“We can do that,” I tell her. “However long it takes.”
My voice sounds even. You’d never know there’s a rocket in my pants ready for lift-off. Rehabbing my leg, getting back on the court in less than a year, coming back stronger—that took Herculean effort. If I can be that disciplined for a game, I can control myself for Iris. I’ve waited for her, and I’ll wait some more until she says we’ve waited long enough.
“I wasn’t prepared for this,” she says, her voice almost an apology. “For any of this. I thought . . . I know I’ve been out of the loop, but last I heard you were being traded to Houston. I didn’t even know you’d be living in the same city.”
That’s when an awful thought occurs to me. Have I had things that wrong?
“So did you accept the job because you thought I’d be gone?” Disappointment and embarrassment drive me to my feet. I miss her warmth immediately, but maybe I need to get used to the idea that she moved here because she thought I was leaving.
“Wow. Now I feel like a fool.” My laugh is a three-dollar bill. Fake. Counterfeit. “I didn’t even think . . . yeah, I guess I didn’t think this all the way through. I assumed you felt . . .”
I swallow down the emotion burning my throat. Jared’s voice comes back to haunt me—his warning that I would regret staying with the Waves if things with Iris didn’t pan out. The flower I brought her lies on the floor by her knees, and that’s how I feel. Clipped at the stem. Discarded.
“I did.” She stands, her head only coming to the middle of my chest. “I do . . . feel it, I mean.”
She reaches for my hand, winding her fingers through mine and looking at me the way I imagined she would, a mixture of possibility and want and hope in her eyes. “I feel it, too, August. I always have,” she says softly, tucking her full bottom lip into her mouth for a second before going on. “I’ve just . . . been through a lot, I guess, and I’m still sorting some things out.”
Been through a lot? What the fuck does that mean? What’s she been through? Who hurt her? Caleb? That dude is dead if I find out he hurt her.
“What does that mean?” I ask, hoping my voice sounds more civilized than I feel. “What have you been through, Iris?”
I feel it immediately, the wall erected between us. Her eyes go distant, looking inside herself. “I can’t . . . I mean . . .” Her eyes beg, and I’m willing to do whatever she wants. To give her whatever she needs. “Can we just not talk about that right now?”
Frustration strangles me for a second, but I force myself to calm down. She’ll tell me eventually who I need to maim.
What happened to her?
I nod, twisting our fingers tighter, letting her know I’m not going anywhere.
“Oh.” She shakes her head, confusion back on her face. “Wait. So what happened with the Houston deal? Last I heard, it was all but done.”