Chapter 8
JULIAN
Standing outside Iris’s bedroom, I wipe my sweaty palms on my trousers before knocking on her door. I tell myself my damp hands are caused by jungle humidity and not nerves. But I’m once again lying to myself. This woman has me all twisted up inside.
“Come in,” Iris says, and I open the door but hesitate to go inside.
The dim light from the hallway casts long shadows across the wooden floor.
Iris sits in bed, propped up against the headboard with a book in her lap.
She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and her hair falls in loose curls to her shoulders.
It irritates me that she’s wearing a shirt that’s probably Lucien’s. And yet she tempts me like no one else.
I should walk away. I know I should.
I'm too damaged and too deep into this fucked up game of international politics. And yet, I can’t let her go. She’s thawed a corner of my frozen heart, and not having her in my life anymore would cause irreparable damage.
She glances up, her green eyes meeting mine. “Yes?”
I clear my throat. “We should talk.”
She nods and puts the book away as I close the door behind me with a soft click and then cross the room to sit down by the foot of the bed. After a few moments of silence, she raises her eyebrows. “So, talk.”
“Right.” I wipe my palms on my trousers again. “As you’ve figured out, I’m not just part of the embassy staff.”
“Duh.” She rolls her eyes.
I brush my hand across my jaw to hide my smile. “Right, I can’t tell you much, but I do work for my government. I’m not a criminal.”
“You’re MI6,” she says calmly.
I flinch before I can hide my reaction. This woman is too smart for her own good. Too accurate, too beautiful, too tempting. “I can neither confirm nor deny that.”
She gives me a sly smile. “Right.”
“What I can tell you is that I will do everything I can to protect you. You’re safe here.”
“What about Lucien?” she asks. “Am I safe with him? How do you know him?”
“That’s a lot of questions at once.”
She frowns at me. “Don’t deflect. You promised me answers.”
So I did. “Lucien has his own agenda, but he won’t hurt you. He’s shady as fuck, but he does have a moral code.”
“And how do you know him?”
“We’ve…worked together in the past.”
“He’s MI6 as well?”
I bark out a laugh. “Lucien is too slippery to be tied down to work for any one government. He’s more of an equal-opportunity contractor for different nations.
” She opens her mouth, but I hold up my hand to stall whatever questions are about to spill from her lips. “I’m sorry, that’s all I can tell you.”
She frowns again, but nods. “What happens now?”
That’s the question of the hour. “We lie low for a day or two, however long it takes for some of the violence to die down. And then you and I get the hell off this island.”
“Okay.” She picks at the hem of her t-shirt and I try not to get distracted by her creamy thighs or my thoughts about whether she’s wearing knickers under the garment.
I still have the pair I ripped off her in the elevator.
For reasons I don’t want to examine, I kept them after I found them in my pocket.
And I’m glad I did, because those trousers disappeared from my room while I was in the shower earlier.
One of Lucien’s staff probably removed them for laundering.
The silence stretches between us. Iris keeps picking at the hem of her t-shirt.
“Hey,” I say, putting my hand just above her ankle. “You’re going to be okay. I’ll get you home.”
She looks up and gives me a smile that’s a little wobbly. “Okay,” she says, and then looks at my hand on her leg that’s now caressing the smooth skin of her calf.
The air between us sparks with tension, and I move my hand further up her leg. “Tell me to stop,” I whisper.
She puts her hand on top of mine, but doesn’t stop its upward path. “I can’t,” she says on a breath. “I should. But I can’t.” Her voice is hoarse.
I swallow loudly as my fingers trace the hem of her t-shirt where it meets her thigh. Her skin is warm, soft, and I feel her shiver under my touch.
This is dangerous. I need to stop and tell her good night and then go back to my room.
But her eyes are darkening, pupils dilating, and I can see the way her nipples pebble against the thin fabric of her shirt.
"Julian," she whispers, her hand guiding my fingers higher toward her hot pussy. "We shouldn’t... but I want you."
Those words undo me. I lean in, capturing her mouth in a gentle kiss. It takes everything I have to hold back and not grab her and throw her down on the bed.
Her lips part for me, sweet and yielding, and I taste mint from her toothpaste. My tongue slides against hers, slow and exploratory. I want to savor her this time, make it last, even though every instinct screams to claim her hard and fast.
She moans into my mouth, her fingers threading through my hair, pulling me closer.
I shift onto the bed fully, kneeling between her legs as I deepen the kiss.
My hands slide under her t-shirt, palms flat against her stomach, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her breath.
She's so responsive, arching into my touch like she was made for it.
"Iris," I murmur against her lips, my voice gravelly with restraint. "You have no idea what you do to me."
"Then show me," she breathes, her hands roaming down my back, nails lightly scraping my skin.
I pull back just enough to look at her, her cheeks flushed, lips swollen from our kiss. She's beautiful, utterly captivating, and the thought hits me again. I'm poison for her, and yet I can’t stop.
Gently, I lift the hem of her t-shirt, exposing more of her creamy skin. She raises her arms, letting me peel it off over her head. Her breasts spill free, full and perfect, nipples hard peaks begging for attention.
I cup one in my hand, thumb circling the sensitive bud, and she gasps, her head falling back against the pillows.
" Julian," she moans.
I lower my mouth to her breast, tongue flicking over her nipple before sucking it gently between my lips. She’s so sweet, her body trembling under me.
My free hand trails down her side, hooking into the waistband of her knickers. I tug them down slowly, inch by inch, revealing the soft curls between her thighs. She's already wet. I can smell her arousal, all woman and intoxicating.
"You're soaked for me, love," I whisper, desire thickening my voice. "Always so ready."
She whimpers as I slide her knickers off completely, tossing them aside. Now she's bare before me and her legs part as I push on her knees.
I stop briefly to pull off my trousers and then settle between her legs. My cock strains against the boxer briefs I’m still wearing.
I kiss her inner thigh, nipping lightly, then soothe it with my tongue. Higher, closer to her center, where her cunt glistens with need.
"Julian, please..." Her voice is a plea, her hips lifting toward me.
I shouldn't indulge her so quickly, but tonight, I want to give her everything.
My fingers part her folds, exposing her clit, and I lean in, tongue flat as I lick a slow path up her slit. She tastes divine, salty-sweet, and I groan against her, the vibration making her buck.
"Oh fuck," she hisses, her American accent making the curse sound even dirtier.
I lap at her gently, circling her clit with the tip of my tongue, then sucking it softly. My hands hold her thighs apart, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin.
She's writhing now, one hand fisting the sheets, the other in my hair, guiding me. But I'm in control, even when gentle, I dominate and decide the pace, drawing out her pleasure.
"You're mine tonight," I murmur between licks. "All mine."
"Yes," she pants. "Yours."
I slide a finger inside her, feeling her walls clench around me. She's tight, hot, and so wet it makes my cock throb painfully against the fabric of my briefs. I add a second finger, curling them to hit that spot that makes her see stars.
Her moans grow louder, and I glance up, watching her face contort in ecstasy.
"Shh, love. We don't want to wake the house." But secretly, part of me thrills at the risk.
She bites her lip, nodding, but her body betrays her, hips grinding against my face as I devour her cunt. I can feel the tension building, coiling in her muscles.
I speed up just a fraction, fingers pumping steadily, tongue relentless on her clit.
"Julian... I'm going to come..."
I hum in approval, and that's all it takes.
She shatters, her body arching off the bed, a muffled cry escaping her lips as she clamps down on my fingers. I work her through it, lapping up her release until she's trembling and her flesh oversensitive.
Pulling back, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, gazing down at her. She's a vision, chest heaving, eyes glazed with satisfaction. But we're not done. Not by a long shot.
"Your turn," she says, sitting up with a wicked grin. Her hands reach for my waistband, tugging at my boxer briefs.
I let her, lifting my hips as she slides them down, my cock springing free, hard and aching. She licks her lips, staring at it like it's her favorite treat. Fuck, the way she looks at me, hungry and unashamed, it's addictive.
She pushes me back gently, and I comply, lying down as she positions herself between my legs. Her fingers wrap around my shaft, stroking slowly from base to tip. Precum beads at the head, and she swipes her thumb over it, spreading it around.
"Iris..." My voice is a warning, but she just smiles.
"Let me take care of you."
She leans down, her breath hot against my skin, and then her tongue darts out, licking the underside of my cock. I groan, head falling back against the duvet cover. She's teasing me, light flicks and kisses along the length, building the anticipation.
"Christ, woman," I mutter, my hand tangling in her hair.
Finally, she takes me into her mouth, lips wrapping around the head, sucking gently. The warmth, the suction, it's heaven. She bobs her head, taking more of me each time, her hand working the base in rhythm.