“Sleep as long as you can,” he says gently. “I’m not going anywhere. We’ve got plenty of time.”
I don’t agree with that statement, since he’s only invited me to stay for one night and I’m now craving as many rounds of sex with this man as I can get. But I can’t deny the comment is a kind thing to say that relaxes me even more.
“Thank you so much,” I whisper as my eyelids flutter. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Sweet dreams, Iris. Whenever you wake up, I’ll be here and ready to go again. But no rush.”
I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s hours before I’d normally go to bed. Granted, Hawaii is a full four hours behind Denver and three behind Orchard Blossom, so my internal clock feels hopelessly confused right now, but I can’t imagine I won’t wake up in a couple hours at most.
“I’ll see you in an hour or two,” I say with another yawn. “And then we’ll go again. Oh. I’d better pee real quick.” I roll out of bed and pad to the bathroom, and when I get back, there’s a huge bottle of water on the nightstand and Roman is closing all the blinds in the room.
“Drink at least half of that,” Roman instructs, indicating the bottle. “Flying is dehydrating, and so is good sex.”
“Wow, it’s almost like you’re a personal trainer or something,” I tease. I grab the bottle and guzzle its entire contents, eliciting a “good girl” from Roman.
“I’ll get you another bottle so you’ll have it if you wake up thirsty,” he says. “Sleep tight.”
My heart flutters. If Roman takes care of his clients in Delaware this well, it’s no wonder he can afford to take a two-week vacation at a fancy resort. He’s making mefeel as special as a professional athlete.
“See you soon,” I say coyly, resting my head onto my luxurious pillow again—and approximately three seconds later, I’d estimate, the world melts away and I’m blissfully asleep.
Chapter 9
Roman
I enter thebungalow and quietly place the items I’ve brought back for Iris from the hotel’s breakfast buffet—muffins, fruit, bacon, and coffee—onto the kitchen counter. From there, I creep into the bedroom to see if Sleeping Beauty has awakened yet, but nope, she’s still dead to the world.
For a moment, I stand in the doorway admiring Iris’s pretty face in repose. The way her sandy hair is splayed out on the pillow, it’s like she’s got a halo. Which makes sense, since it’s clear she had some kind of a spiritual awakening along with her sexual one. Whatever happened for Iris last night, it was nothing short of the hottest thing I’ve witnessed in my life. I haven’t gotten the results of the background check from Cameron yet, but I’m not the least bit concerned about it. My gut tells me Iris Benedetto is exactly the 26-year-old UCLA graduate and Denver preschool teacher she claims to be. Not to mention, one of the cutest, sweetest, most adorable people I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet, let alone to sleep with.
When Iris initially crashed last night, I went to the hotel bar for a couple hours to watch the basketball game. I figured Iris would be awake when I got back and ready for round two, but it wasn’t meant to be. Iris was still fast asleep when I got back. And so I sat on the couch in the bungalow and scrolled on my phone.
Finally, when my eyelids got too heavy to stay open, I crashed on the couch, feeling a bit disappointed for my own horny self but also genuinely happy for Iris to get the rest she obviously needed. Man, Iris really must have let loose with her friends the night before coming here. Or maybe her friend cancelling on herat the last minute is the larger culprit—the real reason for her bone-deep exhaustion. If that’s the case, then good for Iris for going outside her comfort zone to come here by herself.
Man, I’m itching to slide into that bed with Iris now, eat her out, and ask her to stay the whole week with me. Why not? She’s got nowhere to go, and I’ve got nothing on my calendar but golf with Coach Hardy on Friday. It’s not every day a guy has supernatural sex out of nowhere, and what better way to distract me from my current stressors than enjoying a scorching-hot fling in paradise?
Fuck it. I’ll do it—I’ll invite Iris to stay here with me. But I won’t wake her up to do it. I’ll let the poor girl sleep.
My mind made up, I scribble a quick note on a hotel notepad:Going out for a run. Left breakfast for you in the kitchen.I leave the note on the nightstand next to Iris, grab my earbuds and running shoes, and quietly slip out the bungalow door.
About an hour later, just as I’m finishing a pleasant jog along the shore, my phone buzzes with a text from Cameron. When Iris slipped into the shower yesterday, I nabbed her driver’s license from her purse and sent a photo of it to Cameron with a request for a background check.Nothing too detailed, I wrote to Cameron.Just make sure she’s the sweet preschool teacher she appears to be.
I’m not going to win any awards for restraint in this situation, obviously, since I went ahead and fucked Iris before getting the results back from Cameron. But considering the raging boner I had for my bungalow crasher by the time she slipped into the shower last night, not to mention the buzz I had going from those rum punches, I’m amazed I was clearheaded enough to do any due diligence at all.
Cameron:Iris Eugenie Benedetto. Age 26. Preschool teacher at St. Luke’s Preschool in Denver, Colorado, for almost the past four years. No criminal record. Strong credit score.Graduated from UCLA, summa cum laude, with a degree in childhood development & psychology. Won a bunch of Podunk regional horse-riding competitions as a teenager throughout Washington and Oregon. All in all, I’d say she’s squeaky clean and a refreshing change from your usual, other than the one glaring exception which you can find at the link below. Watch the video right fucking now and then call me ASAP. And whatever you do, don’t fuck her, Roman!
I’m flabbergasted.
Is sweet, shy, angelic Iris Benedetto aporn star? I begin typing a reply to Cameron with anxious fingers, asking him where the fuck is the fucking link to the video he’s referenced, but before I’ve pressed send on the message, a link magically appears underneath Cameron’s text for a video entitled, “Horny Runaway Bride Destroys Cheating Groom on Wedding Day.”
Horny Runaway . . . What?
My breathing shallow, I click on the video, and there she is.Iris.Looking breathtakingly beautiful in a traditional white bridal gown. She’s in a church—standing with a guy in a suit who’s clearly her groom, while bridesmaids and groomsmen stand on either side. What the fuck? Also,whenthe fuck?
My heart thrumming, I check the date on the video and my pounding heart stops on a dime. That can’t be. If that date is accurate, then Iris was a bride mere days ago—on the same day Marco married Nicola. Could it be this is an older video that only got uploaded the other day? Either way, it’s already got over a million views in a matter of hours.
I click to start the video, and Iris the Bride says to her groom, “You’ve always been so much better with words than me, Brandon, so I’m going to use some of your own words to express myself now.” She pulls out a cell phone from her bra, making everyone in attendance titter and chuckle at her cuteness.
Unlike everyone else, however, the groom doesn’t titter orchuckle. On the contrary, the second he sees the phone in Iris’s hand, he looks downright panicked.
