He grins at the sound of my tortured pleasure. But I’m not placating to his desire. He is toeing a line that he shouldn’t be.
“Elliot,” I warn. “It’ll kill you.”
He only shrugs before delving back between my legs, and as I look at him, face framed between my thighs, the flavor of his lust hanging thick in the air, I realize something. Something I feel I should have noticed by now.
Elliot doesn’t care if he lives or dies.
In fact, I think he’s almost hoping that he won’t.
Panic steals my breath, and my heart begins to hammer as I picture him dead between my legs. And in the haze of my own desire, I do the only thing I know how.
“Cheese Fries!”
Elliot stops.
His hands fall away, and he rocks back on his heels.
“Are you alright?” he asks. “Did I hurt you?”
I ignore him as I fix my skirt and gather my underwear off the floor.
“Iris, are you?—”
He reaches for me, and I shake him off.
“You know what, Elliot. If you want to kill yourself, go ahead. Just do me a favor and do it on your own time.”
He blinks, standing with his mouth slightly ajar, but I don’t look back as I stalk forward toward the nearest dais and slam my hand down on the wood.
Chapter13
By the Cross
ELLIOT
I’ve been reckless.Too reckless, it seems, pushing her past her limits.
In my defense, I’ve grown so used to my own demons; I forget not everyone was raised to embrace theirs. Some people are afraid of them. Some people hate them.
It never occurred to me that Iris might be one of those people.
She is so confident, so striking. It seemed ridiculous to even consider that there was any part of her she did not wholeheartedly embrace. But there was no mistaking the look on her face as she shouted our safe word.
Deep in her dark eyes, doing its best to remain hidden, was something I’ve only seen in her once before, back in the grove. Something I’d very much like to never see again. It was fear—plain as day.
For a moment, in the time between hearing the words “cheese fries” and the fraction of a second it took for me to release her, I thought it was me she was afraid of. And for that single second, I felt sick to my stomach.
But then I looked at her, saw the panic in her eyes, and thought, maybe she was afraid for me. And for one singular breath, I heard bells ringing in my ears.
Then she stood and threw those words at me like knives, and I realized as I listened to her shuddering heartbeats, there is only one thing Iris is afraid of: herself.
She is quiet the whole way home, and without her smart mouth to occupy my thoughts, I listen to her body instead.
I listen to the heavy thump of her heart and the soft inhale and exhale of her breath. I listen to her fingers scratching the canvas fabric of my jacket as she clings to me. And I listen to the warmth of her cheek pressing into my back.
Her every movement is slow, deliberate, as she works to calm herself. Although truthfully, I don’t think it’s working.
I can still smell the sweet musk of fright clinging to her. It makes me want to throw up.
