Page 55 of The Deal Breaker
“Then I’ll say good night now.”
As he leaned closer, she turned her head to look at him. His lips brushed hers.
The contact was light, but she felt a shock followed by a blast of warmth.
Dash jerked back, appearing startled. He blinked. “Uh, sorry. I was aiming for your cheek.”
“Th-that’s okay.” The way her lips tingled after the brief peck wasn’t anywhere close to being okay.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Good night.”
Eager to put distance between them, Iris nodded and then headed for the stairs, fighting the urge to touch her lips. As fast as she could without falling on her face, she hurried to the second floor. She entered her room and closed the door behind her.
If she hadn’t turned her head, he would have kissed her cheek.
But why would he kiss her at all?
That was what Henry did, not Dash.
And the worst part, the brief peck left her wanting more.
Iris touched her lips.
What is happening? And how would she survive staying here until her apartment was ready if a brush of Dash’s lips could make her swoon?
This is bad.
Bad, bad, bad.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After tossing and turning in bed for ten minutes, Dash gave up on sleep. He sat and grabbed his Nintendo Switch from the nightstand. Maybe playing a game would quiet his out-of-control brain so he could rest for a few hours tonight. Otherwise, he would keep replaying what happened downstairs with Iris.
And her soft, pink lips.
The enemy obliterated his avatar.
Okay, he shouldn’t have been thinking about her. Or the smile that kept igniting a flame inside him whenever it was directed his way. Or how he wished—
An IED took him out. Man, he didn’t know he could be shot that many times.
Gaming wasn’t working. He was still thinking about Iris.
Dash tossed the handheld console onto the mattress. Maybe TV would distract him.
Pressing a button on the remote turned on the television set. A hockey game played. He wasn’t a huge fan, but all he needed was something to take his mind off Iris. He arranged a pillow behind his back.
A right wing stole the puck before a defenseman skated close, nearly checking him into the boards. The puck was passed to the center, who shot but missed the net by mere inches. The player’s frustration showed on his face and by the way he clutched his stick.
Dash snickered. “Know exactly how you feel, buddy.”
Going out to dinner with Iris had been like time traveling to when they’d been best friends and did everything together. Not in high school. All the way back to middle school when he couldn’t stop thinking how pretty she was and how much he liked holding her hand.
Loser.
How had he managed to date any woman more than once when he was acting like a thirteen-year-old with Iris?
Maybe his nickname Wonderkid, emphasis on the last syllable, was more true than not. Or maybe, Iris was the reason.
