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"Yeah." He runs his fingertips over my cheek. "You sure you want to be part of this train wreck?"
I nod. I'm sure.
But there's no way he wants to be a part of mine.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Walker
We stay at the beach forever.
The drive home is quiet, but it's not the quiet of earlier. The air isn't heavy or still or stifling.
It's comfortable.
Calm.
It's weird. I've never wanted to lean on someone. To share anything that guts me.
But with Iris…
I trust her.
I want her around.
I want to tell her things. To tell her everything.
After I park, we stumble-kiss our way to my apartment. It isn't the tear your clothes off heat of earlier. It isn't that I want to watch her come—I do. Fuck, how I do.
But it's deeper than that.
I lock the apartment door and toss my keys on the dining table.
She pulls my leather jacket tighter as she steps backward. Her eyes go to the floor. Her expression gets shy. Like this is the first time.
In a way, it is.
This isn't a fuck anymore.
We aren't having fun anymore.
Shit is real now.
Serious.
Intimate.
I motion to the kitchen. "You need anything?"
"Water."
I nod, pour two glasses, bring one to her.
She brings it to her lips and takes a thirsty sip. Her throat quivers as she swallows. Her eyes stay on the floor.
She finishes fast, hands the cup back over, and moves toward the bedroom.
I follow suit. Move through the open door.
