“I think it hit your neighbor’s tree,” I admit, letting her finish her examination. When she’s satisfied that I haven’t been electrocuted, she thrusts a towel in my hands and grabs another.
“You’re lucky,” she says, dropping down and covering Mica in a towel. “And you, too, buddy,” she coos to the dog. “Oh, you’re shaking all over, my poor boy. Oh, but you were so brave to go out in the storm. Yes, you were.”
I towel my chest and arms, watching Iris fawn over her dog who preens under the attention. As though he realizes the indignity of all this fussing, he gives a full-body shake, snuffs a sneeze, and darts out from under the offending towel.
Iris rises, wiping her hands. “Seriously, that scared the shit out of me.” She picks up the flashlight and sets it on the counter. “No more going out until this thing passes.”
“Don’t worry,” I say, scrubbing the towel over my face.
She steps closer, her voice softening. “Well, for a minute there, I was pretty worried,” she says, laying her fingertips on my chest. Her touch steals my breath. Against my chilled skin, each finger is a stamp of heat. “I mean, I don’t want to lose my boyfriend on thefirst day.”
I crack a smile and wrap the towel around my waist, hopefully concealing how one touch from her affects me. A lightning strike pales in comparison.
“I’m not going anywhere.” This couldn’t be more true. I won’t be the one to leave. That’ll be her. The blow bangs like a gong in my chest, but I just let the feeling wash over me. I’m not holding back. It’ll hurt like fuck when she leaves, but until then, I’m going to let myself love Iris Adams and regret nothing.
What else is there? No one gets a guarantee. There’s nothing to say that a bolt from the blue won’t hit me tomorrow. Or that my mind won’t start falling to pieces before I barely go gray.
I’m here now. Iris is here now. And I’m not wasting any time.
“I’m right where I want to be.” I grab Iris’s waist and lift her. She may not be a ballerina, but she’s as light as one. And even though she gives me a startled look, she doesn’t miss a beat, hitching her legs around my waist and gripping my shoulders. “Take the flashlight,” I tell her.
When she grabs it, I shift one hand to her ass and head for the hall.
Making love to Iris on her couch was mind-blowing, but it was also like a train car off the rails. Out of control. Desperate. Hurtling over the edge at break-neck speed.
What I want to give her now requires time and space. A bed and all night.
“You look like a man on a mission,” she teases.
I grin. “You could say that.”
I carry her into her room, and even in the sparse glow of the flashlight, the sight of her double bed humbles me. She has let me in. She trusts me. Knowing what I know of her—of her mother and her father and the cutthroat world she inhabits—trust shouldn’t be easy for her to give. And after what she’s said about her experience with guys, I don’t think it’s ever been easy.
So the fact that she’s giving her trust to me feels like she’s handing me the Holy Grail.
And as if my fingers were closing around a sacred vessel, I don’t take it lightly.
“I’m crazy about you.” Yeah, I’m taking the coward’s way out, telling her I love her without saying it point blank. But I’ve only been her boyfriend—herfirstboyfriend—for a handful of hours. I can’t lay this on her now. But I can let her know her trust hasn’t been misplaced. “I need to show you how much.”
“I might already know,” she says softly, “because I’m pretty crazy about you.”
I settle her upright on the bed and take the flashlight. “We should probably save the battery. That okay?”
Iris grins. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”
I click it off. Shadows swallow us, and the sounds of the storm only magnify.
“Jesus,” Iris gasps, groping for my shoulders. “I spoke too soon. That sounds terrible.”
“I’m right here.” I put a knee on the mattress and lean in. She sinks back, her hands threading into my hair, the breath leaving her.
“Lucky me.”
My mouth finds hers, and we kiss while gusts batter the house. We’ve got to be nearing the worst of it, but as soon as Iris’s hands roam down my back and under the towel, I forget about the hurricane.
When she grabs my ass, I let loose a growl. “No, ma’am. You led last time,” I argue. “It’s my turn.”
“Ho-hold on there.” She laughs, not letting go of my behind. “Ma’am?I don’t think anyone’s ever called mema’am.I don’t look thirty likesomepeople.”
