how many ways we had our dessert last night. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing this stunning creature moan my name in moments of unadulterated bliss.
A little growl rumbles low in her belly and I laugh. “Yes. I will most definitely have to remember to feed you from here on in.”
“If only we could live on the dessert alone, then we’d never have to leave this bed.” She sighs happily.
“That’d be nice,” I agree, and then her stomach rumbles again, causing me to sit up. “I’ll be right back.”
She frowns and touches my wrist. “Don’t take too long.”
I laugh and touch the tip of her nose with my index finger. She’s adorable when she pouts.
I whip into the kitchen and grab the pizza box out of the fridge. I go to the cabinet Iris got the plates from last night and get a clean one and begin loading it down with as many slices as it will hold.
After heating the food up in the microwave, I grab a can of soda from the fridge and rush back into the bedroom.
I sit on the edge of the bed and set the plate between us. “Sustenance.”
“Indeed.” Iris smiles at me, her green eyes dancing with amusement, and I know there’s something weighing on her mind. “Can I ask you something?”
I raise an eyebrow and eye her with mock suspicion. “I thought you said you Internet stalked me. What else could that inquisitive brain of yours want to know?”
She blushes. “I really am sorry about that. I just wanted to know you.”
“It’s okay, Iris, really. It’s fine. I would’ve probably done same thing if I were in your shoes. You didn’t know me from Adam, and I was acting like a crazy man—so hot and cold with you.”
She sighs. “Still, it was wrong, but I’m glad we’ve got everything out in the open now.”
“Me too,” I agree. “So what is it that you want to ask me about?”
“Well . . .” she begins, but hesitates. “Last night—the tattoo about Shakespeare and the quotes—how do you know all that stuff? Most guys can’t even name one classic play, let alone use Shakespearean quotes in just the right moments off the top of their heads.”
I take a drink of soda and then pass her the can, from which she eagerly drinks. “It started when I was about thirteen or so, I guess. My foster mom was a huge reader. She loved the classics, and her favorite was Shakespeare. She always told me a man who could quote the lines from one of the most romantic men of all time could woo the heart of any woman. So, being the loner I was, and desperate to find a girl who would love me someday, I did like I always do—I studied. The crazy thing is, I ended up loving it. The written word is a beautiful thing. It’s one of the things that initially inspired me to write songs.”
“So did it work?” she asks with a shy smile, and I tilt my head, causing her to elaborate. “The quoting?”
I grin at her wickedly and raise my eyebrows suggestively. “You tell me. You’re the only girl I’ve ever exposed that side of myself to.”
“I am?” she asks timidly.
I nod. “No one has ever inspired me to say them . . . that is, not until you. You, I could write songs about all day.”
She bites her bottom lip, and I love the look of adoration on her face as she stares at me. “I love that I inspire you. I hope I continue to do that.”
I reach over and cup her cheek in the palm of my hand. “Just by being, you’ll do that.”
After we finish our breakfast of leftovers, I reluctantly kiss her good-bye so I can go back to my own trailer to shower and change my clothes. While eating our pizza, we made plans to drive to Columbus to Mom’s house in order for me to retrieve my contract. Iris convinced me that Mr. Stern is a trustworthy man—one who is perfectly capable of letting me know what my options are.
I told Iris what it was like at Mom’s funeral and how reporters seemed to be everywhere I turned, cornering me and not allowing me to grieve the loss of the only mother I’d ever really known. Instead, the reporting leeches were interested only in getting the scoop on why I had walked off stage and if I had any plans