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He drives harder.
Deeper.
Groans my name into my neck.
I do the same with his.
Walker. It sounds good on my lips. And the way it makes his breath hitch—
Fuck.
With his next thrust, I go over the edge. Pleasure spills through my torso. I groan his name as I come.
It makes him hungrier. Needier.
He moves harder. Faster.
His groans get low.
His thighs shake.
"Fuck. Iris." With his next thrust, he comes.
He pulses inside me as he thrusts through his orgasm.
Once he's spilled every drop, he pries his body from mine.
He goes to take care of the condom.
I sit up on the couch.
I may not know a lot about what I want.
But I know I want this.
A lot more of this.
Chapter Ten
Walker
Iris doesn't invite herself to join me in the shower.
She makes a point of waiting until I'm done to move into the bathroom.
It's perfectly reasonable given our arrangement.
Hell—I usually fucking hate it when women step into the shower with me.
But with her, it feels weird. Like I'm being rude. Or she's being evasive. I don't know. I don't get relationship stuff.
I push it aside. It doesn't matter. We're having fun. Stressing about this shit is why I don't date.
r /> Too much agony. Too much baggage. Too much everything.
I dress and move back into the kitchen. The cake is nearly done. The printed recipe is smudged with cocoa powder and sugar.
Like Iris's lips.
