Rather than taking a photo of the back, I pull her to my chest and hold the phone in front of us, taking a selfie of the two of us together. She reaches for the phone, but I jerk it back and tap at the screen.
“Hey! Give that back!” She turns in my lap, straddling me, and dives for the device, but I'm taller and have better reach.
“Not yet.” After a few more taps, I hand it back to her with a new home screen.
Iris freezes when I show her the screen. Her eyes go wide, and her cheeks turn a gorgeous shade of pink. I’ve put her hair in twin French braids, leaving a few strands of hair on either side to frame her oval face. It’s not much of a change, but it must be shocking to see herself with her hair done up when normally she just wears it down. Tears glisten in her light brown eyes.
“Wow. You made me look so beautiful.”
Her words make me frown. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re not always beautiful.”
Her eyes turn away, but I cradle her cheek with my hand to bring her gaze back to me. “Hey. You’re stunning no matter what your hair looks like. Up, down, doesn’t matter.”
The tears slip free, and I rush to wipe them away. I’m not sure what I said that upset her. She starts to pull back, but I grab hold of her waist to keep her from leaving my lap. It’s awkward, what with the start of a hard-on forming in my pants from how amazing she looks, but I can’t let her go when she’s upset. I’m torn between hugging her to comfort her or kissing her to reassure her of her attractiveness. I’d do both, but I’m so out of practice in dealing with women that I don’t know which is better. I want to do the right thing, the gentlemanly thing, but which is it? I hem and haw internally before finally coming to a decision to just man up and do what feels natural.
I let one hand slide up her back while the other stays on her hip, holding her to me. I pull her to my chest and rest my cheek against hers. My fingers stroke the nape of her neck, and she relaxes into my arms. We sit like that for several minutes, though thankfully she never starts crying in earnest. I don’t know if I could handle her crying because I braided her hair.
“You okay now?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
I twist so my forehead is pressed to hers. Our noses bump, and we both giggle. “Don’t apologize. No harm, no foul.”
Her breath, sweet like the wine, tickles my nostrils. Her hair, that I so artfully left loose, does too, and I end up having to back way the fuck up so I don’t sneeze in her face. I turn my head just in time, breaking the awkward stillness—and almost breaking my neck.
“Bless you!” Iris stretches for a tissue from the coffee table, and that movement on my lap does something to my dick that cements the growing erection and solidifies my desire to kiss her. I take the proffered tissue and blow my nose, hoping I’m not ruining the mood with my overacting sinuses.
When she straightens and takes the opportunity to grind against me, I know the mood’s still good. I groan and lift my hips to hers. “Mm. You do that much more, and I’m gonna have to go full caveman and carry you upstairs.”
She bites her lip and does another move with her hips that drives me wild. “Promise?”
It’s always so smooth in the movies. The guy picks up the girl and carries her to the bedroom, making out all the way.
In real life, it is not that smooth.
First, it takes me two attempts to get her off the couch from our current position. Then, I thwack my shin on the coffee table on my way by. That’s going to bruise for sure. Finally, Cleo tries to kill us both by wrapping herself around my legs at the bottom of the stairs. It’s only by some miracle that I don’t drop Iris or send us both crashing to the floor.
When I finally get her to the top of the stairs, she directs me to the third door on the right. I fumble with the knob for a second, then get the door to swing open. Iris looks back at the bed, shrieks, and scrambles to get down.
I look at what could possibly be horrifying her—did she leave her bra sitting out or something when she changed?—and see the Magic Wand sitting square on the middle of the mattress.
“Oh, myGod, I’m so embarrassed!” She snatches up the Wand and shoves it unceremoniously into a drawer. She tries to slam the drawer shut, but the cord sticks out, preventing the thing from closing. It’s a total comedy of errors, and I cover my mouth to hide the grin and stifle the snickering.
“It’s not funny!” She’s shaking and avoiding eye contact, and I realize I have to do some damage control if we’re going to continue where we left off.
“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you necessarily, just the situation.” I put my hands on her shoulders and give them a squeeze. “I honestly don’t care if you use … aids in the bedroom. You could have a whole box full of silicone tentacles and who knows what else, and I’d be totally cool with it. You’re a grown woman; you have every right to use whatever you need to.”
Iris glances up at me through her dark lashes. “You’re serious?”
I shrug and wave in the general direction of the drawer. “To be honest, it’s kind of hot. Not gonna lie, if you wanna use that tonight, I’m game.”
She covers her face with her hands. “Oh, God!”
“I don’t know why you’re so embarrassed. Lisa had one. Hell, I’ve probably still got it boxed up somewhere.”
