Chapter 16 Iris #2
When I started here, I thought of him as Work Aidan.
He’s changed so much since then. His words from the Uber come back to me—how I was leaning on Daddy to fix things—and he can obviously see now that’s not the relationship I have with my father at all.
Even the name, Daddy, has never fitted my father.
I don’t think I called him that as a kid.
He’s always been the opposite of everything a daddy should be: warm, nurturing and supportive, firm but kind.
I realize if anyone embodies the true meaning of the name Daddy, it’s Aidan.
We didn’t get off to the best start, but since he learned the truth about me, he’s a different man.
He’s found a way to overlook my mistakes and shortcomings to focus on what I’m good at, encouraging me, offering guidance, and providing a safe space for me when I need it.
I’ve never once looked at a man I desired and thought of him in that way, with that word, but it’s everything Aidan is.
For the first time, I can see why a woman might call a man that, outside the parent/child relationship.
The thought sends a strange thrill through me—unexpected, a little shameful—but I can’t deny how much I like it.
Aidan’s eyes are gentle as they move over my face, making my heart trip. I drop my gaze, huffing an uncomfortable laugh. It’s either that, or I kiss him.
“I’m used to it,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.
But Aidan doesn’t laugh. Instead, he murmurs, “Iris,” in a voice so soft, so tender, that an ache stirs in my chest.
And suddenly, words aren’t enough. Not when he’s made me feel more cared for, more seen, than any other man I’ve met.
I step forward, closing the distance between us. Hesitation flickers in his eyes as I reach for him, but he doesn’t fight me. He doesn’t stop me from drawing his mouth down to mine, doesn’t push me away when our lips meet.
If anything, he seems relieved. I feel the tension ease from him as my lips touch his, and when his hand brushes my cheek, I smile against his mouth.
He feels it, fingers sliding into my hair, his other hand gripping my waist to pull me closer.
His warm, spicy cologne floods my senses, that hint of cedarwood and pencil shavings that has me aching for more.
And when he parts his lips to let me in, heat zips down my center.
My tongue grazes against his, fireworks dancing along my skin as he responds hungrily.
I’d forgotten what a good kisser he is, the way his beard bristles against my chin, the rough sensation sparking heat between my thighs.
I whimper, arching into him, and his fingers squeeze my waist.
Then I’m kissing him hard, arms wrapping around his neck as I try to get closer, forgetting why I even started.
All I know is he’s air and without him I can’t breathe.
He feels it too. I can tell by the way his hand tightens in my hair, by the low rumble in his chest as he tilts my head to give him better access.
The sensation of his mouth devouring mine is too good, too much, and I’m greedy for more.
I thread a hand into his hair and press myself into the heat of him, a rod of steel digging into my stomach.
The meeting of our bodies draws a rough moan from his throat, and heat pours through me.
I’m transported back to that restroom, to the feeling of his hot, pulsing cock in my mouth, the way he tugged on my hair as he spilled down my throat, wanting nothing more than to taste him again.
I draw away to tell him as much, but when I see his expression, my breath stutters. His eyes are dark and hazy, face flushed under his beard, hair askew from my roving fingers. He looks so damn wrecked, I have to squeeze my legs together to contain the need that shudders through me.
Fuck.
He drags his thumb along my bottom lip, breathing hard. “Christ, Cupcake,” he rasps, gazing at me from under hooded lids. He looks dazed, like he’s forgotten why we’re here, in his office. Like he’s forgotten his own name.
But the ring of his desk phone is all it takes for his eyes to clear. He blinks rapidly, dropping his hand and turning away, and my heart falls as he takes the call.
“What is it?” he asks. His voice is rougher than usual, but whoever is on the other end doesn’t seem to notice. I watch his jaw clench as he listens, his fingers flexing against the desk. “Fine,” he mutters, and hangs up.
“Everything okay?” I ask, hating how shaky my voice is.
“John,” he says, with a humorless twist of his mouth. “Wants me to meet someone. Now. Some friend of his from East Hampton.” He smooths his hair, already gathering his things. “Should only take an hour or so.”
I frown at the sudden change in him, trying to keep up. How can he be so normal, after that?
“I’ll, uh, grab my notebook,” I say, but Aidan shakes his head.
“You can sit this one out.”
Hurt darts through me. I square my shoulders, not wanting it to show on my face, but Aidan catches it anyway, softening.
“It’s… I just need a moment, okay? After…” he trails off, expelling a heavy breath as his gaze burns into mine. His words are both reassuring and disappointing. That he wants to put distance between us again.
But what did I expect?
“Okay,” I say, watching him go. The office door closes behind him with a soft click, and I exhale, trying to gather myself. I sink into Aidan’s desk chair, pressing my fingertips to my swollen lips.
God. That kiss.
The kiss at Marco’s was good, but this? This was next level. There was something fierce in there, something I hadn’t felt from him before. Like he wanted to devour me and protect me all at once.
Heat pools between my thighs as I think of his hardness pressed to my belly, the same hardness I had in my mouth only a few weeks ago. I’d give anything to do that again, to do so much more with him.
I glance at the door, knowing I should get back to my desk, but instead I drop my head back in Aidan’s chair, closing my eyes. If I can’t have Aidan, I need to take care of things myself. Just to take the edge off, so I don’t throw myself at him the moment he’s back from his meeting.
I shuffle his chair forward, so I’m tucked under the desk from the waist down. Aidan will be gone for the next hour. If I’m quick, it will be fine. Five minutes, tops.
Besides, after the way he looked at me like my kiss was killing him, I can’t not do this.
Glancing to check the door is closed, I snake my hand down my skirt, into my panties.
I’m not surprised to find I’m soaked.