The door opened, and Mickey peeked over the dining table to confront his executioner.
Iris stood in the doorway holding Edgar’s square box. Her hands were still tied together, and her cheeks were streaked with tears.
“Hang up? Why? Michael? Are you still there?” Mom’s thin voice carried from beneath the dining table in the stillness.
Iris raised her brow at him.
“Yeah, I’m here. Can you hold on a sec?” He never took his eyes from the copper-headed siren approaching him. “What are you doing here?”
“Saving your neck.” She put the box on the dining table and peered inside. “Edgar all but spoke out loud. He clearly wants you to come with us.”
Mickey sighed. He hated to admit it, but the rabbit had saved his hide more than once.
Iris crawled under the table to retrieve the phone, which had come to life again.
“Michael? Is everything all right there?”
Mickey allowed himself one appreciative glance at Iris’s backside and creamy legs in that short, tight skirt of hers as she retrieved the phone. Just his luck to get Iris in a position like that and have his hands tied behind his back. With an effort, he dragged his mind back to his more pressing problems. “Give me the phone.”
But instead of holding it up for him to speak into it, Iris put the phone to her own ear. “Hello?”
“Who’s this?” In the quiet room, Mickey could hear his mother’s surprise.
“I’m Iris Fortune. Who’s this?”
“Deirdre Kincaid. I’m Michael’s mother.”
Iris raised a brow at Mickey.
“Gimme the damn phone,” he mouthed silently.
Iris’s lips turned into a hint of a smile as she stepped away. He had to strain to hear his mother’s voice in the quiet room.
“Is Michael still there?”
“Yes, but he’s, er, rather tied up at the moment.”
Ha ha. She was so in for it when he got loose.
“That’s Michael. Always working. But it was so nice of him to call me twice this weekend. Are you, um, a special friend of his?”
Iris hesitated, and Mickey realized she didn’t want to lie to his mom. Even over the phone, with someone she was never likely to meet, she couldn’t bring herself to outright lie. And she’d come back here to help him. He had to get her out of here.
“Gimme the phone now,” he mouthed again.
“Nice talking to you, Deirdre. Here he is.” Iris held the phone up to his ear.
“Mom, look, I’ve gotta run, something’s come up.”
“Something, or someone?”
Mickey looked up at Iris and knew she was hearing every word of this conversation. “It’s work, okay?”
She sighed heavily into the phone. “Such a shame. She sounds nice. Why don’t you bring her home sometime?”
He watched Iris’s brow rise slightly again. “I think flying her back to Boston to meet the parents sends a pretty strong message. Not sure either of us is ready for that. Look, I’ll try to call later this week.”
“It’s not necessary. I’m doing much better with Brian’s…well- Don’t forget to call Suze. She wants to talk to you.”
Iris’s brow wrinkled at the mention of another woman’s name.
“Yeah, I will. Say hi to Dad for me.”
“I will, dearie. Now you be careful. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom.” He dared another glance up at Iris to find her contemplating him. The wariness in her eyes was still present, but it had softened. “Close the phone,” he whispered to her.
That seemed to shake her from her reverie, and she folded the phone shut.
“Get me untied, and let’s get out of here,” he said.
She nodded. Setting the phone on the table, she stepped behind him. He felt her fingers on the cord at his wrists. They fumbled for a second, then stilled.
“You’re from Boston?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He tried to look over his shoulder, but all he saw was some of her hair.
“Who’s Suze?”
“Iris, we don’t have time for this. We need to get out of here.”
“Then tell me who she is, because I’m not untying you until you do.”
He thought about lying, but that seemed like a cheap thing to do now that he understood it wasn’t in her code. “She’s my sister-in-law.”
“And Brian?”
He swallowed. “Brian was my brother. He was murdered by a gang member. Suze is his widow.”
There was silence behind him. Mickey waited, and then he felt her fingers working the cords on his wrists again. Once his hands were loose, she kneeled down to untie his ankles.
He flexed his fingers, the painful tingle of returning blood flow a welcome sensation. “Here, let me untie your wrists.” He turned to pick at the cord around her hands. “You’re helping me because the rabbit told you to?”
Her brandy-colored eyes lifted to meet his. “You were facing certain death, and you called your mother in Boston?”
He shrugged. “It was that or call the local police.” Once her hands were loose, he watched her shake out her arms and rotate her shoulders. The tight lines around her mouth eased, and he realized she must have been in pain from that crazy escape stunt she’d pulled. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, except my hands tingle.”
“Not enough circulation.” He covered them with his, massaging blood back into them. The cord had torn her skin, and bruises marred her wrists. She had to be scared out of her wits, yet she’d come back here for him. “I swear to you, I didn’t kill Cosmo.” He dared another look at her.
Seconds stretched as she scanned his face. “I want to believe you.”
“Then do.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips before tugging her to her feet. “Come on, my car’s downstairs.”
They gathered their things and Mickey scanned the hall before ushering Iris toward the elevators. Elevators were always a risk, but they were eight flights up, and Iris looked exhausted.
She leaned forward to punch the down button, but he grabbed her hand. “What?” Her eyes met his as they both heard the telltale sound of a winch in operation. One of the elevators was already moving.
“Stairs.” He took the box from her and put it on the floor.
“We can’t leave him,” she whispered.
Mickey gritted his teeth. Not that he’d expected her to make this escape easy. He yanked open the top of the box.
Edgar stared up at him, his beady red eyes glowing like a demon under the bad hallway lighting.
“Let’s get this straight, pal. You bite me, and you’re staying behind.” Mickey reached in and withdrew the rabbit.
Edgar seemed to sense the danger. He curled up until he wasn’t much larger than a football, his ears pressed close to his body, and let Mickey tuck him close.
With the rabbit safely in one hand, Mickey held out his other. “Give me my gun.”
Without hesitation, Iris reached into her bag and handed him the weapon.
He nodded toward the exit sign down the hall. “Go.”
They moved quickly but quietly, entering the stairwell. Iris’s heeled sandals clicked on the stairs.
“Take your shoes off, hold the rail and go as fast as you can. If you hear anything, don’t look back.”
Her eyes widened, but she did as she was told without question. They made it down the stairs in record time. At the bottom, Mickey stopped her long enough to make sure the exit was safe. She’d saved his life tonight, and he intended to make damn sure nothing happened to her.
Sam Turner stood in the empty apartment and swore. He’d passed Jock and Pebbles down in the parking lot arguing over how to change a flat tire, but Jock had assured him he’d find Kincaid and the woman waiting here. Those idiots down there had outlived their usefulness. He’d deal with them as soon as he took care of more pressing matters.
He removed his gloves and pulled his cell phone from his shirt pocket. This was one call he didn’t want to make.
“Yes?” Donovan answered with expectation.
“I got here, but the place is empty. They’ve escaped, sir.”
There was silence. Then- “My mistake for giving too much responsibility to Jock and his giant friend.”
“I’ll take care of them, sir.”
“They’re negligible. Find Kincaid and the Fortune woman.”
“What do you want me to do with them?”
“Kincaid’s an untrustworthy liability.” Donovan gave a harsh laugh. “We don’t even have proof that he ever killed Fortune. I suspect he’s working with the magician and the daughter. Kill him.”
With pleasure, Turner thought. Mickey always had been a little too much of a hotshot. But he wouldn’t be an easy target. No, Turner would have to track him down and find the right time and place.
“What about the woman?”
“Keep an eye on her. I think we’ll find Cosmo Fortune is still alive and still has the real jewels. Once we find him, I intend to up the stakes.”
“I think you’re nuts,” Iris said as Mickey slid the key into her apartment door. She snuggled Edgar to her for warmth against the chilled hallway. “They kidnapped me from my shop. Don’t you think they know where I live?”
Mickey pushed the door open, reaching a hand in to find a light switch. “Turner’s too much of a pro to come here. Too many potential witnesses. Besides, didn’t you notice the squad car parked on the curb? Turner won’t touch this place tonight.”
She hadn’t noticed the police cruiser, but then Mickey probably had a built-in radar for spotting them. Maybe he’d pulled that chambray shirt over his black tee to better hide his gun in case anyone stopped them. Eagerly, she brushed him aside, but Mickey stopped her from entering.
“Let me check it out first.”
“I thought you just said-”
Placing a finger against her lips to silence her, he regarded her with such serious intent that it rekindled her fear. He left her and Edgar standing in the doorway while he pulled his gun and prowled through the living room on silent feet then disappeared down the darkened hall toward the bedrooms.
She waited with jumpy anticipation, the effect of exhaustion overrun with adrenaline. It was close to midnight, she hadn’t eaten in over twelve hours, she’d been kidnapped, tied up, her life threatened-but they’d escaped. She’d never felt more alive.
She should go to the police, but feared what that would mean for Cosmo-and Mickey.
He returned through the darkened room. “It’s clear.” He stuffed the gun into the rear of his jeans.
“Now what?” She ran her hand along Edgar’s collar to make sure it was secure before placing him on the carpet.
“We get some sleep.” He scrubbed his stubbly chin and stifled a yawn.
She put up a hand. “We?”
A self-satisfied smile lit his lips and eyes. “This morning you seemed to like my coffee. And I liked your shower. And earlier this evening, I mean, we were both a little tied up, but-”
Her face warmed. “Fine. You can sleep on the couch.”
“I’m not much of a couch man,” he said in that cajoling tone.
“Too bad. It’s the best I can do.”
His smile faded. “Do you still think I killed Cosmo?”
“I…I don’t know what to think anymore.” Iris stepped away. “When I see you standing there, I can’t bring myself to believe you could coldheartedly kill.” She tripped over the last word but recovered enough to continue. “But when you leave me, I start to imagine things, and I believe it’s possible.”
“Possible.” Mickey touched her cheek and met her eyes. “But not probable.”
“No, not probab-”
The ringing of her phone interrupted her.
Mickey stilled. “Answer it.”
Any call at this hour would be important. She hurried to the kitchen extension where she saw SecureLink registered on the caller ID screen. A break-in? “Iris Fortune.”
“Miss Fortune, this is Randy from SecureLink Systems. Can you verify your pass code for me?”
She recited the numbers under Mickey’s watchful gaze.
“We show an after-hours entry using your pass code, with the alarm reset thirteen minutes later. Was that you?”
She turned away from him as tears stung her eyes. Cosmo. He was still alive. “Yes, Randy. Sorry about that. It was me.”
“I’m making a note of it, ma’am, and I see you did the same thing the other night. You’re paying top dollar for our services, you might want to call us when you re-enter the building.”
“I know. I promise I will from now on. But thank you for calling.” Iris hadn’t been this close to crying in years. Damn his eyes, when she caught up with her father, she was going to kick his ass.
“You’re welcome. Good night, Miss Fortune.”
“Good night.” She hung up the phone and gulped down a sob of relief.
“Hey.” Mickey approached her. “Is everything all right?”
She threw herself into his arms. “Cosmo’s alive!” Her relief that Cosmo was apparently unharmed was only matched by the knowledge that this man had told her the truth-he hadn’t harmed her father.
Mickey gathered her close and kissed the top of her head. “Was that him on the phone?”
“No, my security company for the store.” She clung to his strength, the safety of his arms, the incredible earthy, woodsy traces of his cologne. “Someone entered-then left-after hours using my pass code. Cosmo’s the only other person who has it.”
“I should try to find him.” He pulled away.
Iris refused to let go. “No. He reset the alarm already, and he’s gone. By the time you get over there, there won’t be any trace of him.”
“I should try-”
“No. Stay with me.” In case he didn’t understand her completely, Iris stood on tiptoe and captured his lips.
She’d surprised him, she could tell by his hesitation, but that only lasted a heartbeat before he crushed her to him. She knotted her fingers behind his head, feeling the crisp dark curls she’d found so alluring. His lips were gentle, warm, as they moved provocatively across hers, his tongue caressing her mouth, fueling the fires within her.
This, this, was the way to celebrate life. After the day she’d had, she deserved this.
His lips withdrew from hers to blaze a trail down her throat. One of his large hands crept up her waist, past her ribs to cup a breast, and she arched to meet him with a moan of desire. His other hand palmed her hips, pulling her against him to feel his heat.
Near her ear, he whispered, “Iris, don’t do something you’ll regret.”
She pulled back just far enough to take hold of his jaw between her two hands and stare him in the eye. “I could have died tonight. So could you. Don’t talk about regrets. For once, I’m going to do precisely what I want.”
Pressing her lips to his, she kissed him long and deep. Her fingers whispered over the tense muscles of his shoulders only to dig in and rake down his back.
He growled against her mouth.
She smiled with the power. “Tell me you don’t want this, too.”
“Oh I want to.” Mickey pulled back to search her face. One hand brushed her curls back from her eyes. “But a man’s gotta have some kind of honor.”
“So the ‘honor amongst thieves’ isn’t true?”
“You’re not a thief.”
No, she wasn’t, not deep down. But couldn’t she pretend-just this once?
“Besides, the saying is ‘no honor amongst thieves.’” He bent his head and suckled on her earlobe, his teeth nipping the sensitive skin.
Iris bit her lip as she melted against him. Yes, once would be enough.
Someone rapped on her door. The two of them froze like hunted animals.
Iris’s heart began to thump again even as Mickey stepped away. Silently, he approached the door to peer out. He waved her over to look for herself. She stood on tiptoe to see a uniformed cop through the tiny window. Mickey stepped beside the door and motioned for her to open it. When she realized he hadn’t drawn his gun, she complied.
The policeman looked startled to see her. “Evening, ma’am. I’m Officer Foote. Are you Iris Fortune?”
Iris nodded.
“Sorry to bother you, but Detective Hunter asked me to check and make sure you’d made it home safe.”
“Um, yes. Yes, I just got home a few minutes ago. How did-”
“Your sister tried to file a missing persons report. Normally, we wait twenty-four hours before we can act on these things, but Detective Hunter said there are some extenuating circumstances.” He looked at some notes in his hand. “There’s a report here of Edgar, twenty pounds-would that be your son?”
“That would be my rabbit. He’s here, too.” Iris retreated a step, but didn’t take her eyes off the policeman. She didn’t want him to get any inkling of Mickey’s presence. “I guess I better call my sister.”
To her surprise, the idea didn’t piss her off, though it was rather an inconvenient time.
“If you’d prefer, ma’am, I’ll be reporting to the detective, and I’ll ask him to contact her.”
“Thanks. Now, it’s been a long day, so if you don’t mind…” She began to shut the door.
He placed a hand on the panel. His brow wrinkled with concern. “Ma’am, are there any other messages? Are you alone in there? Would you like me to come in and look around the place?”
Iris drew herself up, though she was still a far cry from his height. “Look, I don’t think it’s any of yours or Hunter’s business whether or not I’m alone, and unless you’ve got a warrant, you can kiss goodbye any notion of setting foot in here.”
He backed away. “Yes, ma’am. Just trying to help.”
She closed the door quietly in his face.
Mickey leaned against the inside of the panel. His eyes gleamed with humor. “Nicely done,” he whispered.
Iris retreated to the living room and waited for him to follow. “You didn’t pull your gun out. Why?”
“You didn’t need protection from a uniformed cop. Besides, pull a gun on a cop, and he either makes you drop your weapon or-”
“Or?”
Mickey shrugged. “Or he shoots you. They don’t ask a lot of questions, and they don’t give you a long time to decide. It’s not like with the guys I deal with. We pull a gun as a show of force. It’s grandstanding. It’s marking our territory.”
Iris smiled.
“What?” His eyes crinkled in response.
Her heart fluttered at his reaction. “I knew you’d never shoot a cop. You’re too good a person.”
“Iris, listen to yourself. I’m a petty thief.”
“No, you’re much more. And I want to experience it all.” God help her, who was this wanton possessing her body? Apparently, adrenaline had a better kick than alcohol. She stepped back into his arms.
This time he accepted her without argument. As their bodies melded, she marveled at how well they fit, her head nestled beneath his chin as she drew in the rugged scent of spicy cologne mingled with male skin. His large hands smoothed down her back, then repeated the motion, only this time they stripped away her suit jacket.
Her fingers found his shirt buttons, moving slowly. Anticipation built within her to see those defined pecs and that flat, muscled abdomen. She hadn’t been able to erase the vision of him naked in her shower from her memory.
His hands stilled her fingers. “I can’t make you promises, Iris.”
She lifted her gaze to his while a bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. “I don’t need promises. I just want tonight. No strings, no expectations.” Her fingers resumed their downward trail.
“Don’t sell yourself short. You deserve promises. You deserve-”
“Mickey? Shut up and kiss me.” She cupped the bulge in his jeans, proving to them both that despite his hesitant words, he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
He reacted with a sharp intake of breath, a growl, and then his lips captured hers, hungrily, painfully-biting, licking, sucking on her mouth until she gasped for breath. And then he gentled beneath her hands, his hips rocking into hers with a need that matched her own. She pushed the shirt from his shoulders, enjoying the heat of his skin beneath her fingers. Feeling his hands at the small of her back, unzipping her skirt, she barely refrained from shouting an exultant “Finally!”
She couldn’t recall ever wanting to be naked with someone so much. This wasn’t just desire. This was destiny.
Her skirt slid down her bare legs to pool at her feet. Mickey’s gaze slid down her body. “God, I love your legs.” He lifted his eyes to hers, the predatory gleam sending a thrill through her. “Let me see all of you. Take your top off.”
Swallowing, she ignored the self-conscious doubts. She grasped the hem of the tank top and slowly pulled it over her head. It tangled in her curls, but Mickey’s fingers helped free it. When she shook her head clear, she saw his other hand was busy unfastening his jeans, releasing his erect penis to the air. That glint in his eyes had turned positively carnivorous.
Her body shuddered with anticipation as he stepped toward her.
With a feather-light touch, Mickey’s thumb stroked her breast in an ever-diminishing orbit until he brushed her erect and very sensitive nipple. She gasped at the ripples coursing across her flesh, straight down her belly and between her legs. In the muted light, Mickey’s jaw tightened as he tried to hold back a smile. Leaning forward, he captured her other breast in his mouth, laving the nipple with his wet tongue until she writhed in his hold.
“Touch me.” God help her, she was already willing to beg.
She felt his smile as he moved his attention from one breast to the other. “I am touching you.”
“No,” she said. “Touch me.” To drive her point home, she wrapped her fingers around his cock and squeezed gently.
“Easy there, tiger.” He pulsed in her hand. But he got her message, because he dipped one hand between her legs.
Her brain went positively blank when his hot fingers worked past her panties and stroked her wet folds.
He groaned out loud, and in reply, she leaned against his chest and captured his lower lip for a quick kiss. A short squeal escaped her as he picked her up, cradling her to his chest, and strode for the bedroom.
He perched her gently on her bed before yanking his jeans off his legs. He stopped long enough to root in a pocket for his wallet, and from there he withdrew a small crinkly packet. As he pulled off his briefs, Iris snagged a thumb in the elastic of her silk panties.
“Don’t take those off,” he warned. “I want to do that myself.”
She hid a smile as he rolled the condom onto himself. He might be a petty thief, but he obviously took responsibility seriously. And he cared about her. She sensed it in his touch.
And now he touched her in a whole different way, leaning down to grab her panties with his teeth, nipping at her thighs as he drew the skimpy fabric down her legs. Stealthily, he worked his way back up, stoking the anticipatory fire within her as he tasted the skin at the back of her knee, scrubbed her inner thigh with his bristled jaw, bent to study then taste her in that most intimate of places.
She knotted her hands into his shoulders. “You’re killing me, you know that?”
“Is that a complaint?” He skewed a brow at her.
“Honestly, about now you could do anything you wanted.”
He raised his head to look at her. “Do not tempt me like that.”
Her skin tingled, but she was unsure of his meaning. Without a word, she slid down, bringing her face level with his. “What is it you want from me?” she whispered.
“You.” He bent his head and captured her lips again. “Like this.” Sliding his fingers into her slickness again, he whispered, “And like this. You want me. That’s more than I deserve.”
Tears stung her eyes. Without flowery words, this man made her feel more wanted, more precious, than any other ever had. David, for all his eloquent protestations, had never made her feel so coveted. Banishing her fiancé to the furthest corner of her brain, she summoned her strength and rolled Mickey onto his back until she straddled him.
Pushing her hair back from her face, she grinned down at him. But words eluded her.
That swashbuckling smile spread across his features as he stretched his arms over his head and folded them on the pillow.
Iris bit her lip at the oh-so-tempting landscape of muscle presented to her. Raking her fingers down his shoulders, across his chest and ribs, she gripped his hips and, in one tempestuous movement, she impaled herself on him.
This time, it was Mickey who gasped with surprise. His eyes widened, darkened and he gripped his lower lip with his teeth. His fingers laced with hers, and he supported her hands as she adjusted slightly.
Her muscles stretched to accommodate his heat, his girth, her every sense attuned to him. She blanked her mind to all conscious thought. Tonight was about feeling, experiencing…
Sharing.
Beneath her, Mickey ground his hips in a motion so slow, so tantalizing, Iris thought she might go quietly insane with her need. As she was about to open her mouth and beg again, he took both her hands in one of his.
His other hand crept to where their bodies joined, making her breath hitch. His thumb made contact with her highly sensitive flesh, and she couldn’t control her hips as they started to rock.
“Ride me, Iris.”
Warmth flooded her cheeks at his invitation, but her momentary embarrassment was no match for the storm building within her. She rocked with his rhythm, lifting and sinking with his thrusts, spurred on as he increased the tempo of his thumb. A wave built within her, seeking escape, seeking voice. She gasped for breath. “Oh, God. Mickey-”
“Look at me, sweetheart.”
His forehead was dotted with perspiration, his eyes glowed up at her. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Come on, give it to me, Iris. Give yourself to me.”
She bent to kiss him, but the new angle pushed her beyond the physical world. Her core exploded in a rainbow of sensation, like a prism shooting light in all directions. For a few seconds she was the light, the color, the power.
Mickey gripped her hips with both hands, pumping into her with a roar that overshadowed her fractured yelp of release.
When the room stopped revolving, Iris realized they’d both stilled. The only sound in the bedroom was their heavy breathing. Steeling herself, she glanced down at Mickey. His eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw tight, and he held his thin lips closed.
God, what was she supposed to say now? In fact, what the hell had she just done?
And then she noted the tear at the corner of his eye. Iris leaned down and gathered him into her arms.
He clutched her tightly. Long seconds passed before he cleared his throat. “That’s the first time since Brian…” He drew a breath and exhaled sharply. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever want…”
“Shhh.” Pushing aside her own insecurities, she rolled to his side and cuddled him close, stroking his hair, smoothing his brow. “What you need is a good night’s sleep.”
He grasped her fingers and kissed them. “What we need is a shower and some food. And I want you again, Iris Fortune. Tonight’s not over yet.”
They shared the shower. Mickey scrubbed Iris’s back, then soaped and rinsed her chafed and bruised wrists. He lingered over washing her skin, memorizing the play of muscles across her back, the soft curve of her rounded breasts, inhaling the fragrance of her skin and hair. Later, they raided the refrigerator, where Iris found a bag of baby carrots and chopped them up with some greens for a salad for Edgar. Mickey filled a bowl of water for the rabbit, and they watched Edgar eat while they stuffed their mouths with deli turkey and Brie.
Mickey drew a long sip from a water bottle, his gaze roaming this kitchen, this woman. Even the rabbit. It all felt so domestic-so homey. His life had been far from normal ever since he arrived in Las Vegas. Domestic moments had no place in petty thief Mickey Kincaid’s world. But then, domestic moments had become uncomfortable for him since Brian-
“Turkey?” Iris stood at the open refrigerator door looking over her shoulder at him.
“What?”
“Do you want any more turkey?” she repeated.
“No, I’m good.” He watched her bend over to put things away. She wore nothing but his unbuttoned shirt, and she’d probably hate him for saying it, but in the open chambray with her hair all mussed up, she looked adorable.
Tell her.
Mickey popped a last bite of cheese into his mouth. That damn voice hadn’t shut up all night. As much as he’d like to tell her the truth, he could also list a litany of reasons why he shouldn’t. Sure, she’d come back to help him tonight. That had shown courage and faith. It’s not that he didn’t trust her, but where would a confession like his leave them?
“Brian promised me he’d always be there for me. He lied.” Suze’s bitterness over her husband’s death had been summed up that briefly.
Iris had set the boundaries-one night, no strings, no expectations, no promises. The least he could do was honor that and not offer her unwanted complications. He took another sip of water, letting his gaze wander the kitchen again. Was it wrong to steal a few hours of peace…of happiness? Christ-was that what he’d been feeling around Iris?
Happy. He’d almost forgotten what that was. Then he realized another subtle difference. His headaches, which had been chronic since Brian’s death, had abated. Despite the stress of this weekend, Iris managed to ease everything that was painful in his life.
“Okay, tell me what you’re thinking.” Iris stood at the other end of the kitchen, her arms folded in an unspoken challenge. “Because this silence is getting really awkward.”
Tell her. “Come here.” He opened his arms in invitation.
She approached without hesitation, then squeaked as he pulled her against him, sliding his arms inside her shirt and enveloping her in a warm hug, bare skin to bare skin.
He studied her for long seconds before speaking. “You may not want promises, but I propose we make a pact. No secrets between us in bed. Deal?”
His heart drummed beneath her hand as she traced the planes of his muscled chest. “Deal. Of course that might leave us with very little to say.”
“We’ll talk in the morning,” he murmured before pressing his lips to her earlobe. Words were overrated, he decided. “For now, let me show you what I’m thinking.”
They returned to the bedroom for more lovemaking, this time teasing and exploring, ravishing and cherishing each other slowly, erotically. Afterward, they fell into an exhausted slumber, their bodies tangled together as if it were the most natural thing in the world.