Her head snaps up, and we look at each other.
“You can ask me whatever you want, Iris, about anyone.” I run my nose along her cheek, listening for the hitch of her breath at the charged contact of my skin on hers.
She turns her head, and a centimeter, not even a fully drawn breath, separates our mouths. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and reaches up to touch my face, her fingertips wandering over my cheeks and painting a stripe down my nose. Her thumbnail outlines my lips, and I crave her touch on me everywhere. I lean into her, brushing our noses together once, twice, again.
“What are you doing?” she asks with a breathy laugh.
“Eskimo kisses,” I whisper, spreading my fingers to span her waist. “I’m scared to do the real thing. To kiss you.”
She rubs my nose back, her eyes never leaving mine, her lips just shy of a kiss.
“Why are you scared to kiss me?” she asks.
“Because the last time I kissed you,” I say, biting my lip, wanting to bite hers, “you disappeared.”
She leans back a little, but I don’t let it last. I bring her back into my side until our thighs press together and the curve of her breast tortures me.
“Please don’t pull away from me.” I trace one dark eyebrow, studying the striking framework of her face. “Where’d you go, Iris?”
Her lips part, then slam shut, then part again before she finally speaks. “Louisiana.” She closes her eyes. “I went to my great-grandmother’s, but I didn’t want anyone to know.”
Why the secrecy? Was she in some kind of trouble? “Tell me what happened. What’s going on? Did Caleb—”
“I can’t talk to you about him,” she interrupts abruptly, opening her eyes to hold mine. “Don’t ask me about my life with him, August.”
“Nothing?” I press my back into the pillow to get a clearer look at her. “But I need to know if—”
“I signed an NDA.” A hard swallow flexes her slim throat. “Okay? So when I say I can’t talk about things with him, I mean I can’t. Breaking that jeopardizes sole custody of Sarai. Please don’t ask me.”
Can I move forward without understanding what happened in the past?
I have a million questions about her and Caleb, but I doubt her answers would actually satisfy me. I want to know if she ever loved him. I want to know if he was really her first, her only lover. The thought of her giving him that honor when he’s such an asshole scratches the inside of my brain.
“If you can’t,” she says after a few moments of silence, “then I understand.” She searches my face, her eyes anxious, and clutches her T-shirt in her fist.
“I used to think of you with him,” I admit. My laugh is bitter between us. “Of you …”
Fucking him.
Even now, the thought of him inside of her, of him getting her pregnant, watching her grow with Sarai, staking that claim on her that I can’t ever erase or usurp—it’s an asylum in my mind. My thoughts go crazy, and I draw a deep breath to stem the insanity.
“I can’t change the past, August.” Slowly, one finger at a time, she unclenches the shirt fisted at her waist and reaches for my hand. “But we can talk about the future, if you want.”
If I want?
If I fucking want?
I’ve never wanted anything more.
“Iris, once we start this, I can’t go back.” I’m a fool for giving her time to reconsider, but we have enough regrets. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, but I …” She lowers her lashes, hides her eyes. “Things with Caleb were … I haven’t been with anyone since …”
I really don’t want to talk about him, but whatever this macho ego shit is I got going on, I need to set it aside so she feels she can talk to me about anything.
“Hey, look at me.” I tilt her chin, catch her eyes. “We said slow. That’s on everything. Physically. Emotionally. Whatever you need. You set the pace, okay?” I drop my hands to my sides.
“Okay.” Mischief lifts some of the seriousness from her eyes. “So if I say I’m ready for our next kiss, would that be alright?”