Iris #3
Did I cry at some point? If so, I didn’t realize it.
I wipe at my cheek, and I’ll be damned. It’s sticky with dried tears.
“I don’t know what that was about,” I reply honestly.
“I’m definitely not feeling sad, I can tell you that.
That was the most incredible, liberating, addicting thing that’s ever happened to me in my life.
I feel like I just walked through a secret portal into another dimension—a new world where I found a better version of myself. ”
Roman chuckles. “That’s high praise.”
“It’s the truth.”
“I don’t doubt it.” He swipes gently at my cheek again. “Something tells me you’re not capable of the alternative.”
Shit. Roman didn’t say, “Me, too” about the secret portal into another dimension thing.
So, I’m thinking I’ve probably overshared, like I always do.
In fact, now that my cringey words are hanging in the air, unmatched, I realize I should have played it much cooler with Roman.
Perhaps pretended that’s how sex always goes for me.
Because I’m a sex kitten. But then again, I don’t think I’m capable of pulling off any kind of charade, like Roman said.
Especially not in this one-of-a-kind moment.
I’m feeling too raw—too triumphant, alive, and powerful—to even try to put on any kind of act.
I touch Roman’s stubbled cheek. “Thank you for taking so much time with me. That felt incredible.”
Roman kisses my cheek. “My kink, if I have one, is getting my partner off. And the way you just got off? Jesus Christ, Iris. I feel like I’ve mainlined an addictive drug.”
My heart quickens. That was just as good as Roman saying he walked through a secret portal, too.
Maybe even better, especially when combined with the look of complete satisfaction on Roman’s gorgeous face.
The man does indeed look drugged—and I can’t deny it turns me on to know I’m the source of his intoxication.
I slide my palm over Roman’s bicep and bat my eyelashes at him. “Please, feel free to overdose on my body as much as you want tonight.”
Roman smirks. “You wouldn’t give me carte blanche like that if you knew how much I enjoyed that. It was supernatural for me, too.”
Oh my gosh. This just keeps getting better and better. I open my mouth to reply, but before I’ve gotten a single word out, a big yawn overtakes me.
“Thanks,” Roman deadpans.
I giggle. “Sorry. I’ve barely gotten any sleep the last couple days.”
Roman strokes my hair. “Get some sleep, then. A great orgasm will put you to sleep better than any sleeping pill.”
I snicker. “And I had three.”
“You sure did. Don’t let them go to waste. Get some sleep, Iris.”
I didn’t know great orgasms are sleep inducing, simply because I’ve never had one even close to as great as the ones Roman gave me. Especially that last one. Holy crap. But I see no reason to admit any of that. I’ve already said too much.
I open my mouth to reply, and yet another yawn overtakes me, making Roman laugh again.
“Sorry to bore you,” he teases this time, making me giggle again.
“Okay, maybe I’ll take a short nap,” I concede. “But only long enough to recharge for round two.”
“Sleep as long as you can,” he says gently. “I’m not going anywhere. We’ve got plenty of time.”
I don’t agree with that statement, since he’s only invited me to stay for one night and I’m now craving as many rounds of sex with this man as I can get. But I can’t deny the comment is a kind thing to say that relaxes me even more.
“Thank you so much,” I whisper as my eyelids flutter. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Sweet dreams, Iris. Whenever you wake up, I’ll be here and ready to go again. But no rush.”
I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s hours before I’d normally go to bed. Granted, Hawaii is a full four hours behind Denver and three behind Orchard Blossom, so my internal clock feels hopelessly confused right now, but I can’t imagine I won’t wake up in a couple hours at most.
“I’ll see you in an hour or two,” I say with another yawn. “And then we’ll go again. Oh. I’d better pee real quick.” I roll out of bed and pad to the bathroom, and when I get back, there’s a huge bottle of water on the nightstand and Roman is closing all the blinds in the room.
“Drink at least half of that,” Roman instructs, indicating the bottle. “Flying is dehydrating, and so is good sex.”
“Wow, it’s almost like you’re a personal trainer or something,” I tease. I grab the bottle and guzzle its entire contents, eliciting a “good girl” from Roman.
“I’ll get you another bottle, so you’ll have it if you wake up thirsty,” he says. “Sleep tight.”
My heart flutters. If Roman takes care of his clients in Delaware this well, it’s no wonder he can afford to take a two-week vacation at a fancy resort. He’s making me feel as special as a professional athlete.
“See you soon,” I say coyly, resting my head onto my luxurious pillow again—and approximately three seconds later, I’d estimate, the world melts away and I’m blissfully asleep.
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