31. Iris
31
IRIS
Jake arranges the rods, tackle box, and cooler in the boat bobbing next to the weather dock. I climb in, gulping when it rocks from side to side.
“It’ll be fine once our weight is evenly distributed,” he reassures me.
Then he grabs the fiberglass edge and holds it steady, panic flashing in his gray-green eyes. “Iris, you can swim, right?”
“If you mean keep my head above water while I doggy paddle like my life depends on it, then yes, I’m a capable swimmer.”
He smiles but studies me more closely. “Not that you’ll need it, but do you want me to run back up to the equipment shed and find an old life jacket for you?”
“A life jacket that’s been used as a cozy home for a family of mice for the past decade? Hard pass.” I give him what I hope looks like a confident grin. “If I need rescuing, I trust you’ve got me.” It’s not just a joke. I need to believe someone’s got me, for once.
“I’ve got you,” he agrees, emotion darkening his gaze. He lowers himself into the boat and leans across the bench seat in the middle to kiss me.
We wobble, I shriek, and Jake laughs, breaking a bit of the tension pulsing between us.
He pushes off, and soon the sound of the oars dipping into the water echoes in the quiet. The bright sun and the gentle swish of the paddles slicing through the surface are almost hypnotic, and my nerves ease.
When we’re in the center of the lake, Jake casts the fishing rod and then hands it to me. “Just hold it steady and wait for the magic to happen.”
“I’m not sure I have the magic.” I grip the rod tightly, and he leans forward to guide my hands with his.
“You’re doing great.”
Much to my amazement, I feel a tug a moment later. “I’ve got one.”
“Time to start reeling,” he says with a laugh at the look of horror I can’t hide. I’ve got one. “Nice and slow.”
When the fish finally breaks the surface, I can’t help my squeal of excitement. “He’s tiny.” I glance at Jake. “How can something that small be so strong?”
“He’s a fighter,” Jake confirms and helps me pull it into the boat. He easily unhooks the brown trout and holds it out to me. “Not bad for your first time, Dixon. Want to do the honors of putting him back?”
He lifts a brow as if he expects me to be squeamish about touching the scaly fish. To be fair, I am, but I’m also caught up in the thrill of it. I take the squirming fish from his hands and try not to grimace. “Have a good life, buddy,” I tell the wiggly creature, then set it in the water. The fish stays frozen on the surface for a few seconds before disappearing from view.
“I caught a fish,” I murmur. Not something I would have placed on my fun list if you’d asked me two weeks—or even two minutes—ago. And maybe something else I didn’t know I was searching for.
Jake casts again, then holds out the rod. “Are you ready for more?”
My smile feels like it’s lighting up my whole body. “You bet.”
We stay out there for hours as Jake regales me with stories of the adventures he and his brother used to have. I share some of my own childhood tales, most of which have a vaguely heartbreaking undertone since most of my memories involve times when our mother left Nick and me alone, and we kept each other entertained. Jake seems to find the humor in them, helping me realize that while our upbringings were different, they were also similar in a lot of ways. We both had parents who arguably had their own interests front of mind when it came to raising children.
As an adult, I’d like to give my mother the benefit of the doubt that she tried her best. I’d say the same for Jake’s mom, whom he speaks of with quiet affection, and who seemed so used to living in the shadow of her domineering husband, she couldn’t break out of it even for the sake of her two sons.
With Jake’s help, I catch and release four more fish. “Let’s face it,” I say as he rows the boat toward shore, “I’m a natural fisher whisperer.”
“You came to slay.” Jake seems perfectly content not to have cast a single line for himself, but to find joy in my joy. I could watch that all day.
It dawns on me that the best part of the afternoon was not catching the fish, although I did love feeling that first tug on the line. The real beauty of it is sharing my happiness with Jake and feeling his in return. I’m not trying to impress him, and he doesn’t have to show off. Neither of us have to prove anything or make up for past mistakes.
I want more of this feeling—with him and because of him. And let’s be honest. I’ve never been one to truly go for my dreams, or even believe I deserve them to come true. I’ve been so busy trying not to be my mother, I lost sight of—or maybe I never really thought about—who I was becoming in the process. And whether or not I liked that person. For the first time in forever, I’m not afraid of wanting.
He rows the boat to shore, then helps me out with a steady hand and a gentle kiss.
I know with certainty that I like who I am with Jake. Not the serious, practical version of me who is always in lock-step with my schedule. Or the frightened girl who held onto control with a death grip.
As we unload the gear, my cheeks almost hurt from smiling so much. I watch Jake drag the boat onto the sandy shore but don’t follow him toward the truck.
“You know what would make this day even better?” I ask as I toe off my sneakers.
He glances over his shoulder with a teasing grin. “I have a few ideas. Dixon, what are you doing?”
I give him an exaggerated wink as I undo the zipper of my jeans and ease them and my panties over my hips. “Let’s go for a swim.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “It’s October, woman. Ever heard of shrinkage?”
I continue my awkward strip tease. Although the sun is just starting to dip below the nearby peaks, the air is still warm enough that I can’t blame my trembling fingers on that. It’s nerves.
I don’t do flirting. Or seduction. There are too many past recollections of how sensuality—and even sexuality—is tied up with emotional pain and manipulation.
But everything feels different with Jake. I’m different.
He hasn’t joined me in undressing, but my confidence is bolstered by the way his eyes linger, his nostrils flaring with every inch of skin I reveal.
“Seriously going to kill me,” he mutters and takes a half step forward before shaking his head. “There’s a hot spring not many people know about tucked between this property and my grandpa’s ranch. Let’s drive over there.”
“Maybe it’s time you embrace a little spontaneous fun, Jake.” I step closer to the edge of the water. “Because I’m here for all of it, even the polar plunge kind.”
“Do I need to explain to you how snow runoff works?”
“Stop being so serious,” I say as I whip off my sweatshirt.
He growls in response, low and dangerous like he’s seconds away from devouring me. “I guarantee hypothermia is serious.”
The breeze ruffles my hair and—yikes—not having the sunlight makes a difference in the temps. Goosebumps erupt along my skin, but I’m not stopping. I am fully invested in my unintentional fun.
“Just a few minutes won’t kill us.” I crook my finger as I back up along the sandy shore.
When gravel pokes into the bottom of my feet, I try not to wince, realizing I should have thought this out a little better. I can do hard things.
Jake is slowly moving forward, and I point a finger in his direction. “Take off your clothes,” I command. My voice booms out, echoing across the still water.
He smirks. “Now she’s getting bossy.”
I reach around, unclasp my bra, and then throw it in his direction.
“Fucking hell,” he whispers.
“If you like what you see, come and get it,” I shout before turning to rush into the lake, only to shriek and freeze mid-step. Freeze being the operative word.
Because, yeah, I’ve never dipped a toe in a Colorado lake, never mind swam in one.
I figured it would be like the water in Minnesota and warm up enough to make it tolerable over the summer and into early autumn. It gets way colder in and around Minneapolis than it does in Colorado over winter.
But glacier-fed lakes in the mountains are a whole different ball game. Right. I get it now.
I hear the low rumble of Jake’s laugh directly behind me, and before I can fully turn, he’s lifted me into his arms, holding me close against his chest as he strides toward his truck.
“Well, I don’t know how you’re feeling, but that was a shit-ton of fun from where I was standing.”
“You’re mean,” I whisper, but I’m laughing along with him as I shiver closer. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
He chuckles again. “Obstinate woman,” he mutters. “You told me you trusted me to save you, so think of me as your foolish fun cavalry.”
He opens the truck’s passenger side with one hand, deposits me gently on the cloth seat, then leans across my body to turn the key in the ignition.
He adjusts the temperature dial all the way to hot before brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Chill out here for a minute—or warm up.”
“I need my clothes,” I say.
“The hell you do,” he answers, then captures my mouth in a long, tangled kiss that leaves me breathless. Then he’s gone.
I scooch further into the truck cab, close the door, and wrap my arms tight around myself, feeling embarrassed and exposed. So much for spontaneous fun.
Jake appears only a minute later, and I gesture to his empty hands. “Where are my clothes?
“I told you. You don’t need them.” He reaches to the back of his neck and pulls his T-shirt off by the collar. “I’ll be your personal space heater. It’s all part of the cavalry service.” He takes a step closer. “Lean over and turn off the truck, sweetheart.”
I do what he says, and when he opens the door and holds out his arms, I launch myself into them.
“And I don’t think you need to worry about bears. That scream you let out when your feet hit the water scared them all away.”
I sniff. “That was a sexy shriek.”
“It sounded like a cat with its tail stuck in a door. Trust me, I know what you sound like when you’re sexy screaming, and I’m ready to hear it again.”
“I’m cold,” I protest, even though the heat from his body is quickly warming me. Both because he’s holding me tight against him, and because he’s holding me tight against him.
“Not for long,” he says conversationally as he walks toward a cluster of trees, but I know the hitch in his breath isn’t from carrying me.
He places me on my feet on the blanket he’s spread over a clearing of flat earth. “I got rid of the sticks and stray pine cones just for you.”
Given my earlier bravado about skinny dipping, I feel oddly self-conscious standing naked in the forest, watching Jake kick off his unlaced hikers.
He takes a condom wrapper out of his back pocket and then, with what feels like practiced efficiency, shoves down his pants and boxers, his cock jutting out like it’s reaching for me. My mouth goes dry.
“I don’t know…” I begin, but he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me forward.
“I do.” His big palms cup my ass, and all my doubts disappear. “I can’t wait, Iris.” He holds my gaze and then whispers, “Please let me have you here.”
He reaches a hand between us, and the tip of one finger slides across my center. “You’re already wet.”
A sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan escapes my lips. “Should I apologize?”
“Fuck no. I love it.”
He lowers both of us to the blanket and indicates he wants me on my knees, then positions himself so I’m straddling his face. It’s too much—too intimate—but when he licks me long and slow, a vague protest dies on my lips.
I don’t want him to stop, and he seems to have no intention of it. He kisses and sucks, then gently bites the inside of my thigh. If not for his hands cradling my breasts, I’d fall forward from the pleasure spearing through me.
He thrusts his tongue deep, and I cry out then sink lower on him. He groans his approval, the sound vibrating along my too-sensitive flesh. His fingers squeeze my nipples as he finds a rhythm with his mouth that has heat and need pulsing along my spine. He’s in control, but I’m the one to surrender—and I’ve never felt safer.
I’m not sure how he knows exactly how to touch and taste me to send me hurtling toward the edge of control, but I have enough experience to be grateful for his expertise and enthusiasm.
The cool air of the waning afternoon slices across my breasts when he releases them. He uses his thumbs to spread me wider and lightly sucks my clit. Without warning, the orgasm rips through me like a tidal wave, and I can’t help myself—I’m grinding against his face like I have no inhibitions. Like he’s here to please me. And the power of it makes me gasp for air.
When my body finally stills, Jake kisses my now hollowed-out center before releasing me to slide down his body.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispers.
“You’re so damn talented with your tongue,” I counter because there’s something in his voice that has my heart hitching even as it returns to a normal pace.
With shaky hands, I reach for the condom and roll it over his length.
“You need a minute, sweetheart?” he asks, placing those warm, calloused hands on either side of my hips.
“Need you,” I say and lower myself onto him.
He arches upward with a groan, and my nipples harden again. His thick cock is as deep as I can take, and we begin to move, Jake rocking into me as the tension starts to build inside me again, this time coming from someplace deeper.
That first release is still echoing inside me, but I let out a groan as his thrusts become erratic.
“Can’t make it last,” he tells me with a hoarse laugh. “God, what you do to me, Dixon.”
I press my hands on his muscled chest and circle my hips, rubbing my clit against him as he sits up to wrap his arms around me. His teeth graze my shoulder, and I’m gone again, pitching over a cliff without any thought of the landing below me.
Jake follows seconds later, groaning against the base of my throat and then trailing kisses along my skin, his embrace still tight like he’ll never let me go.
And even though I know it makes me the biggest fool on the planet, that’s what I want. To be his for always. That dream no longer feels reckless. It feels like coming home.