I get up and walk swiftly over to the couch, squatting and looking up at her. If you didn’t look closely, you’d assume she was as serene as any mother nursing and nurturing. But she’s not any mother. And when I look into the turbulence of her eyes, she’s certainly not serene.
“Iris, don’t lose sight of what you want.” I risk touching her, gripping the hand in her lap. “You got pregnant, but that’s not the end of your dreams. You’re too young and talented and amazing to abandon your ambitions running after Caleb while he pursues his.”
“I’m not running after him,” she says stiffly, snatching her hand away. “You don’t know the choices I had, the hard calls I had to make.”
“I’m sure you did what you had to do because that’s the kind of woman you are.” I recapture her eyes but don’t try to recapture her hand. “But you’re only proving my point. You did exactly what you had to for this baby. Now do what you have to do for yourself.”
She looks at me, her emotions naked and spread across her face, watering her eyes. Her lips part, but whatever she plans to say gets cut off when the little bundle on her chest squirms, shifting, and the blanket falls away.
And holy Shit. I’m looking at Iris’s breast.
The nipple is piqued and the color of fresh plums against the dark gold of her skin. A milky drop clings to the tip. I can’t swallow or breathe, but my mouth automatically opens, my body demanding I suck. I should look away. I’m probably creeping hard, but I can’t help it. My fingers fold into my palms, aching to trace the blue–green network of veins just under her skin.
When I finally look up, Iris is as paralyzed as I am, watching me watching her. Her mouth falls open, her breath coming hard, heaving her breasts, one covered and one exposed to my greedy eyes. The air thickens with all the urges I’ve been suppressing and drowning in meaningless sex with other women. This is the woman I want. Crazy as it may be, this is the one I want. I couldn’t move from this spot if the place were on fire.
“You are so fucking beautiful.” My voice is hoarse and urgent. “We barely know each other. I get it, but I can’t stop thinking about you, Iris.”
My words snap the thread tying us together, and she hastily, belatedly jerks up the bra, fastening a flap and pulling her blouse together.
“August, don’t.” She runs a hand over the back of her neck under the hair spilling past her shoulders.
I saw her nakedness, but I’m the one exposed. I can’t hide how much I want her. I’ve felt more connected to her in the little time we’ve spent together than I have to any of the women I fucked this last year.
“Do you think about me, too?” The question I promised myself I wouldn’t ask forces its way out.
“I can’t think about you.” She squeezes her eyes shut, clamping her teeth tightly on her bottom lip. “I’m with Caleb. We have a daughter, a future.”
“A future?” I snap. “With him? Gimme a break. He’s probably cheating on you already.”
A muscle clenches along the smooth line of her jaw. I’m on the road enough to know the married players get as much ass as the single ones. I’ve known Caleb a long time. That man always wants his cake and to eat it, too. No way he isn’t tapping anything he can pull when he’s away. If Iris were mine, I’d be faithful to her. There’s not a woman alive who could tempt me if I were hers. I want to confess it all to her, but she wouldn’t believe me.
“I have to try to make this work, August.” She rubs the downy hair of her daughter’s head. “There’s a lot at stake.”
“Your future is at stake.”
“August, we’ve met all of twice and—”
“Correction. Today makes three,” I say, adding a smile to show I know how ridiculous it sounds.