The Heartbreaker of Echo Pass - Maisey Yates Page 0,107
didn’t believe that he would. Again. Not on purpose.
But if she had asked her mother directly, to her face, do you have a favorite daughter, her mother would’ve said no. But it was written in her actions. Her every single one.
And that broke her.
But then, his wicked hand came up to tease her, torment her, and he filled her, absolutely and completely, his each thrust up inside of her easing the pain in her mind, if only for a moment. They were connected now. They were here. And it was real and physical and guttural. And whatever they felt, whatever emotions were out there, unable to be grabbed, unable to be contained, they didn’t matter, not right now. Because what they had right now was real. It was raw, and it was something.
She had been Iris Daniels, locked up in a box for longer than she cared to admit.
Afraid.
Whatever thing she had been afraid of, afraid she’d been. And she had never imagined that she would make love to a man on the floor of a half built house, with the sky brilliant and blue and the trees swaying overhead, with uncertainty clamoring in her heart.
But she was this woman.
And if she was this woman now, maybe she could be this woman forever. Maybe. Just maybe.
Maybe it was possible.
His thrusts became erratic, the cords in his neck standing out as he pushed them both further, faster, higher.
Pleasure gathered low in her belly, and when he thrust deep inside of her on a growl, pulsing, crying out his pleasure, she did the same. They went over together, sweat slicked and delirious with pleasure.
He brought her backward, laying himself down on the bare wood, letting her rest over his chest.
“Iris,” he said. “You have to know how much I need you.”
She did.
She did.
She extricated herself from his hold, her stomach pitching, because she felt ill. She brought herself to her feet with shaking knees. “I know you do. And I know you think it’s love. But I can’t do this, Griffin. I can’t.”
“Iris...”
“No. You don’t understand. I was supposed to change my life. I was supposed to get independence. And instead I’m... I’m obsessed with you. I’m obsessed with this and obsessed with when I can see you again, when I can touch you again. It’s nothing like it was supposed to be. I feel... So small and so stupid. I did exactly what I said I wasn’t going to do. I fell for the first man I slept with. At the worst time. And you’re my landlord and...”
“Is it so bad to fall for me?”
“Yes,” she said, every small, petty thing that she just thought rising to the surface, but she tamped them all down, because she was too ashamed to say them. She was awash in shame.
All the shame she had felt for years. Years and years, as emotions had bubbled up inside of her she could never give voice to. Because how could she?
“Why,” he said, his voice fierce. “Why is it so bad?”
“Because. Because we were helping each other out of a tough place and that’s all it was and help isn’t love. But that’s the thing. You just...you needed help. And when you don’t need it anymore you’re going to see that this wasn’t what you wanted. When you don’t need me you’ll move on.”
“I don’t believe that’s the problem,” he said, his face like stone. “You tell me what’s really going on.”
“That is what’s going on,” she said. “I feel for you. I do. And I care. I’m not saying that I don’t. But, Griffin, we are two very broken people, and I can see the merit in us walking each other out into the light, but dammit, at a certain point we have to be honest with ourselves.”
“What about, Iris?”
“We’re playing house,” she said, her voice breaking.
“Who’s playing?” he asked, his voice rough. “This is real, Iris.” He hit his fist on the wall. “This house is real and what I feel for you is real.”
Iris wanted to hide from the intensity in his eyes, from the demand there she was so sure she couldn’t meet.
“I think you believe that. Because I don’t think you would lie to me. But you...” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. She just couldn’t. She would rather hurt him in a thousand different ways. Tell a thousand different lies than say what was really in her heart. Because she was embarrassed by it. Sick with it.