But then, one hand comes up and lays on her chest. A pained look grips her perfect features as she clutches the front of her shirt with her pale fingers. "Sometimes, I'm afraid to breathe." Her diamond eyes widen with the confession. Her words seem to vibrate with grief. "Because my heart hurts so much. Sometimes it feels so fragile. Like the slightest movement will force it to shatter inside my chest."
“Iris…” Her raw honesty steals my fucking breath.
A rush of protectiveness invades my gut. I brush my knuckles down the ridge of her cheek. She leans into the touch and mewls like a kitten starved for affection. And at least for that one hot, intimate moment, putting this shattered woman back together becomes my entire life's mission.
I hear myself groan. "God, I want you so much..."
I roll over onto my side and cradle her cheek, I lower my face over hers, I nudge her nose with the tip of mine and press our mouths together. She steals in a surprised breath as I gently suck her bottom lip into my mouth and glide my fingers through her hair to cup her skull.
She tastes sweet like brown sugar and a tiny bit salty from the veggie dip. I taste her need for affection. I taste her desire to have a man's hands on her. I taste her wild urge to lose control.
Although this feels like heaven, the voice in the back of my head saying don’t take advantage just keeps getting louder and louder and louder, until the guilt is thumping in my head like a second heartbeat.
I begin to pull away, but Iris takes control. She hooks her little hand around the back of my neck and pushes me down in the grass so she's straddling me.
She kisses me like a woman with an empty belly and a starving soul. I let her have her fill of me. She needs this. I shift my pelvis, nudging my screaming erection against her core as my hands flirt with the hem of her shorts.
And now, she's grinding her pussy against me, and her tits spill against my chest. My palms are cradling the curve of her ass, my tongue plunging into her mouth, and my cock thrusting against her mound.
As she works her hips, she grips my face like she thinks I might just disappear. I squeeze the backs of her supple thighs, silently assuring her that I'm not going anywhere.
I'd never admit it out loud, but having her this way has always been a fantasy of mine. Her delicate hands touching my skin, her desperate sounds filling my head, and her luscious body riding mine. It’s a fantasy come true.
We’re a sweaty mess, tangled up in the grass when I hear my cell phone ringing. I’m tempted to ignore it like I’ve been doing lately, but I’m not wild about the possibility of any more friends or family showing up here unannounced in search of me again.
I locate my phone, buried deep in the pocket of my athletic shorts. I answer just before my voicemail picks up.
It’s Maxwell checking up on me. “Your drunk ass survived the night, you lightweight! Your hangover must be killer.”
“I’m alive and well, smartass.”
Iris is still all over me, running her hands up my chest, nibbling at my throat. She licks the sensitive spot beneath my ear and a helpless sound escapes me. She makes an adorable apologetic face and tries to scoot away but I hold her close and smile at her, with the phone to my ear.
“You sound…busy,” my teammate chuckles through the phone. “I won’t keep you. Faith’s been on my case about checking in with you again. I tried telling her you were fine, but you know how my wife is. She won’t believe it until she sees you with her own eyes.”
Maxwell’s wife is one of the good ones. You’ll find her on the sidelines at every home game, supporting her favorite quarterback. She’s gorgeous and fun and she always has her man’s back. She takes the job of loving Maxwell Masters very seriously. For a fraction, I imagine what that kind of devotion must feel like. I glance up at Iris and she gives me a smile that makes my soul thump.
“We’ll be at our Reyfield home in a couple days,” Maxwell continues, “and I thought you could meet us for dinner.”
My team captain grew up in Reyfield, a small town just outside of Chicago. It’s about a one hour drive from Crescent Harbor. He and Faith have a mini-mansion there.
“Yeah, okay. Let’s do that.” My eyes are on Iris as I speak. “Make it a reservation for four. I am bringing…”
My roommate?
My friend?
My makeout buddy?
Fuck it. I tuck her against my side and wrap her in my arms like she’s mine, like she always was mine, like she always will be.
“I’m bringing a date.”
27
Jude
I’ve always struggled with these…”
I turn to find Iris bent over a flower pot with rapt attention. “What is that?” I ask. My hand falls to the small of her back when I approach her and I can hardly keep from running my fingers down to cup her round ass. Any excuse to touch her. In some weird way, I always seem to feel better these days when my hand is on her body.
“Orchids.” Her lips hold a wistful smile. “They’re notoriously hard to grow. Almost everybody I know has trouble keeping them alive.” My hand sweeps back and forth on her spine. She doesn’t shrink out of my touch. Instead, she moves a half-step closer.
Today, we’re huddled in one of my oldest brother’s greenhouses with harvest-ready vegetables blossoming all around us. Yet Iris somehow managed to find the one corner of this place occupied by pretty flowers. That makes me smile.
Walker strolls between the rows, carefully inspecting his crop. Cannon and Lexi are
