I am grateful that Clint convinced me to stick with water. Completely sober, it felt unreal. I don’t want to know how it would have felt if I had alcohol in my system.
Still, I’m confused.
As much as I loved the kiss, it left me confused. Where do we stand now?
I wish he hadn’t left. I wanted to talk things out.
Then again, I need to remember men aren’t like women. They don’t always think about talking things through. They tend to prefer actions. So was that action supposed to mean something?
Growling, I get out of bed and go into the bathroom. All through my shower, I think about how I want to handle this.
Old Iris wouldn’t want to rock the boat. She would follow Max’s lead and bury it if that’s what he wanted.
New Iris won’t do that.
No, I am going to confront him.
So after I get dressed in a T-shirt and some sweats, I head up to his penthouse apartment. Scanning my key, I press P1, waiting for the elevator to take me to his level.
Once there, I swallow hard.
This is it.
I knock on the door, hearing him call for me to enter. I type in the code and step inside.
“How did you know it was me?” I ask as I head into his kitchen to find him cooking at the stove shirtless.
The gray sweats hanging low on his hips have me wanting to drool.
“I didn’t get a call from the front desk. You’re the only other person with access to my floor,” he tells me.
I frown as I watch him move around the kitchen. His body is distracting me.
“Were you expecting me?” I ask.
“I was hoping. Take a seat at the island. Breakfast is almost done.”
He seems like he has so much energy. I wonder how much of it is his anxiety.
“Did you sleep?” I ask him.
He looks over his shoulder at me. “I did. Not much, but I was able to get some sleep.”
“Let me finish cooking. You sit,” I tell him, moving into the kitchen.
He turns, grabbing my hips. My breath catches as I look up into his eyes.
Before I can do something stupid, like kiss him again, he moves me back to the chair at the island.
“I appreciate the assist, but I’ve got this. Sit. Relax.”
He continues to move around the kitchen while I sit and watch him in awe. He is different than he normally is. I wonderif our kiss really changed that much for him. I want to ask. I’m going to ask.
As soon as I work up the nerve.
He goes to the fridge and pulls some things out. I’m too busy staring at the muscles in his back as he moves to pay attention to what he is doing when he slides a glass of iced chai tea latte across the counter to me.
He knows me so well. He knows what I like to eat and drink. He knows what makes me happy and makes me sad. He knows me.
