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Instead of taking my hand, she stepped into me, pressing her tits to my chest and untucking my shirt. Her hands traveled up the length of my back and her eyes fluttered closed, like the act of touching me brought her immense pleasure. It fucked with my head, because I knew it was the E making her feel that way, but I couldn’t bring myself to make her stop.

“Are you sure?” She rode on her toes to suck the base of my throat, eating the groan she pulled from me. “Your skin is like the sun, Ronan.”

With a shuddering breath, I took her by the shoulders and spun her away from me. I unhooked her bra with mechanical precision but left her panties. I only had so much control, and it was quickly slipping.

Iris squealed when I pushed her under the spray, but once the water began to sluice down her skin, she tipped her head back and traced her fingers down her sides. Bracing my hands on the glass door and tile wall, I watched until I neared the point of delirium. I tore myself away, backing up until I could no longer reach her.

“Clean up. I’ll leave you some pajamas on the vanity.”

She eyed me from narrow slits. “Okay, Ronan. I hear you.” Then her eyes clamped closed, effectively shutting me out.

I left her with the door open so I would hear if her intoxicated little self took a tumble. In my bedroom, I stripped, placing my suit on its hanger, my shirt in the bag for the dry cleaner, and pulled on a pair of sweats.

Then I sat on the end of my bed facing the bathroom, ears tuned to the sound of the shower. Barely blinking, eyes trained on the cracked door.

Waiting. Anticipating. Famished.

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