Page 152 of Two-Step
My gut churns. “I’d never hold her back.”
He pushes himself to his feet. “Good. She’s auditioning for a sitcom next week. And she’s got a really good shot at it.” He cracks a rueful smile. “And unless she’s had a change of heart aboutSwamp People, you can’t pull off a show from down in the bayou.”
* * *
It’s late.The crew wound up making reshoots until after dark. I stayed the whole time. I stayed and watched Iris, trying to burn every scene, every look, every smile into my memory.
We’re back at her place now, and I know what I have to do.
Iris knows something’s wrong, and I hate that. For her and for me. I don’t want to hurt her. It’s going to crush me to hurt her.
But I won’t rob her of her dreams.
I just have to keep reminding myself how young she is. It’ll hurt, but she’ll recover. And in time, she’ll see that I did what was best. That I was looking out for her. Maybe she’ll even forgive me.
She keeps watching me, her eyes alert and cautious. I’d say something, but Sally and Ramon are still shuffling through the house, tending to nightly routines. Ramon probably knows something’s up, but Sally’s oblivious, chattering away about the day and the fantastic dance scene.
It feels like eons ago.
I offer to take Mica out into the yard just to get some air. The night is heavy and cicadas buzz like chainsaws. Mosquitos dive bomb me almost immediately.
No peace out here. Maybe none anywhere.
“Hurry up, Mica,” I urge.
The back door opens, and I turn to find Iris in the doorway silhouetted by the kitchen light. The pale nightgown she’s wearing clings to her, its lace skimming her thighs. My dick pulses and my breath shortens before my heart sinks.
I will never have her again.
“You okay?” she calls.
I grit my teeth and brace myself to do the most awful thing I’ve ever done.
“I’m coming,” I answer, dodging her question. I’m not okay. I’m the furthest fucking thing from okay.
I follow the dog inside, and for a moment, I fool myself into thinking I can get through this without touching her, without tasting her one last time. But I can’t even move past her as she holds the door open for me.
I grab her, selfish bastard that I am, pull her full against me, crushing her breasts against my chest and gripping her ass to haul her up to my mouth. I kiss her like a criminal. Lips bruise. Teeth clash. Her fingernails rake through my hair, and I growl to keep from howling.
What wouldn’t I give for this to be the other way around? For her to be the one about to end us?
Unshed tears clog my throat, but I deepen the kiss, frantic, almost wild as the seconds bring us closer to me tearing us apart.
It takes everything I have to break away. We’re both panting. Aroused and raw. The thin silk of her gown does nothing to hide the outline of Iris’s nipples, and they beg for my mouth. My cock is an aching brick pushed against her belly.
“That felt different,” Iris says, lifting her fingertips to her lips.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. I’m such an asshole. “I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay.” She shakes her head and gives me a smile, but I know her so well, I see at once that it’s forced. “Should we go to bed?”
I’m not staying. I have to do this and go and never see her again. But I won’t break up with her in her kitchen. If all I can give her is her privacy, then she’ll at least have that.
Gripping her hand and memorizing the feel of it in mine, I lead us to her bedroom. I can hear Sally and Ramon’s muffled voices upstairs. I want Iris to have privacy, but I’m glad they’re here if she needs comforting.
When I close the door, silence seals us off. I look at Iris. I’ve had all day to think, and I still don’t know what to say. I don’t have the words to make this easier.
Iris grips the footboard. Even with all the shit swirling in my head, I notice with utter clarity that her knuckles are white.
