Oh, God.
My heart tightens, releases, and floods with emotion. With something I’m pretty fucking certain of, and too damn scared to name.
I take her mouth in a bruising kiss, gripping her thighs and pinning her to the wall as I thrust into her. She moans, bouncing on my dick, fingers raking my scalp. We’re not quiet, not as she begs me to fuck her harder, rougher, not as I drill into her with reckless abandon, but I don’t care. I don’t care if the entire fucking team hears us, not when I feel like this. Not when it’s too much to contain.
And then she comes hard, face buried in my shoulder to muffle her moans, pussy tightening around me like a vise. Heat tears through me in a blinding flash of pleasure, and I surrender, giving myself to her. Giving her everything I can’t put into words.
I set her on shaky legs, fumbling in my pocket for something to clean her up. There’s a cocktail napkin from the bar, and I crouch as best I can in the confined space, wiping the inside of her thighs. I can barely make out her face in the darkness, and it’s reverent as she gazes at me, her lips opening and closing like she wants to say something. Like shehasto say something. My heart trips over itself, because I’m pretty sure I know what it is, and fuck, I’d giveanythingto hear those words from her.
But laughter rises above the music nearby, and she blinks back to her senses. I straighten hastily, glancing over my shoulder. There’s another group coming through the course, close to where we’re hiding, and I hold my breath, waiting for them to pass. I brush a soft kiss on Iris’s lips, then slip out of the shadows. I want to wait for her, to make sure she finds her way back across the course okay, but that will be too obvious. Instead, I head straight to the bar and order another drink. Something stronger this time.
We can’t keep doing this. I want so much more than stolen moments with Iris. I want alifewith her. God, I never thought I could be this guy, but I am. For her.
And I have to make it work. For real.
“There you are.” John appears at my side, sliding unsteadily onto a barstool, a fresh martini in hand. His face is a little red, tie loosened, glassy eyes narrowing as he looks me over. “Where have you been?”
Shit.
I rake a hand through my hair, straightening my tie. Do I look like I’ve just fucked his daughter? A flash of rebellionmoves through me—the sense that I actually don’t give a shit if he figures it out—but it passes. It’s not only me I have to worry about. It’s Iris. How he’d treatherif he discovered us.
But John simply shakes it off, taking a sip from his drink. My guess is he’s had a few.
“I’ve been thinking,” John says wistfully. “Maybe it’s time we finally draw up those papers for partnership.”
Surprise socks me in the chest. “Seriously?”
John gives a sage nod. He’s definitely had a few. I’ve never seen him so mellow.
“Waterman called me,” he says. “Said the town was bowled over by your plans, and you deserved a promotion.”
Of course. It’s not John who wants to offer me partnership. It’s freaking Thomas Waterman.
“And the Bushwick studios are something else,” John adds. He leans in conspiratorially. “I’ll be honest, I gave them to you out of spite.” He issues a self-satisfied chortle. “But they turned out better than I could have imagined.”
I frown. That wasn’t me. I merely helped Iris shape her vision. Across the room I spot her, laughing with Tash at the pizza counter. Her eyes find mine, a secret smile curling her lips, before she turns back to Tash.
“You know that was all Iris,” I tell John. “The studios, the lighthouse—”
John waves a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes, she’s been your little pet project.” He rolls his eyes, taking a wobbly sip of his drink. “I still can’t understand why you’d waste your time.”
My fingers tighten on my whiskey. I lift the tumbler to my lips, letting it burn down my throat. It’s that, or I clock John in the jaw.
“Look.” He forces out a weary sigh, like it’s costing him to be so patient. “I’ll admit, she pulled off tonight. The team’s having fun,” he concedes begrudgingly, with the kind of puzzledexpression that suggests he still doesn’t quite believe it himself. “But we both know she doesn’t have the talent to handle those projects, let alone the focus to get them done. And while it’s noble of you to let her take the credit, if you want to be a partner, you can’t let anassistant—” He cuts himself off as he knocks his martini, spilling half of it onto the bar, the rest onto his tie. “Shit.” He barks something about napkins to the bartender, and I take the chance to slip away.
I cannot spend another minute listening to that man belittle his daughter. Belittle the woman I love.
Fuck. I can’t deny it any longer.
I drag a hand down my face, letting the truth finally surface in my consciousness. I’m so fucking in love with Iris it hurts. Everything about her, even the parts she doesn’t like.Especiallythe parts she doesn’t like. She doesn’t realize how damn wonderful she is. Howlovableshe is. And I want to spend my life showing her.
My mind churns as I step into the arcade, leaning against the Frogger machine. John’s finally offering me partnership. The thing I’ve been working toward for the past eight years. The thing that’s defined my life since I started at his firm. The distant goal I’ve been chasing.
Maybe he’s only offering it because he’s God-knows-how-many martinis into the night. Who knows? But it’s not based on my own merit. It’s based on Iris’s brilliance. Brilliance he refuses to acknowledge.
I toggle the joystick absently, trying to make sense of the emotions clashing inside me.
I should be elated. Overjoyed. Vindicated.
