Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
IRIS
“Did you have fun tonight?” Clint asks as we wait for the light to change.
“All things considered, yes. What about you?” I ask, my mind still on Max.
Being in his arms was like a dream come true. Things between us were different tonight. I could feel the tension building.
I think he would have kissed me if I had asked him to.
“I had a beautiful date on my arm, and I got a woman’s phone number. I have nothing to complain about.” He smirks.
“Oh, who was it?” I ask, turning to give him my full attention.
“Her name was Paris. She made sure to tell me that she’s not a fan of the city she’s named after and she’s a model.”
“Oh, sounds fancy. Are you going to call her?”
He shrugs. “I might. I don’t know. Right now I think I’m keeping my options open.”
“You dog, you,” I tease, making him laugh.
“Hey, last I checked, we are just friends. Unless you’ve changed your mind?” he asks, raising a brow.
“You know I haven’t.” I turn and look out the window.
“You two looked awfully close on the dance floor. For a second I thought you two were going to kiss,” he tells me.
I did too.
“It was nice. I have always loved dancing.”
“Babe, I hate to break it to you, but you should never say anything with a guy is nice. It’s like the kiss of death.”
I roll my eyes. “It is not.”
“Trust me, from a guy’s perspective, it is.”
I smile and shake my head. “You’re crazy.”
We come to a stop outside of my building, and I turn toward him. “Thank you for tonight. I really had fun with you.”
“Any time. I’ll talk to you later.” He kisses my cheek, and it feels nothing like when Max did earlier.
The doorman opens my car door, and I slide out. “Thank you, Bernard.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Howard,” he murmurs.
Leaving the men behind, I head inside. My heels click on the tile as I make my way to the elevator. I only have to wait for a few minutes before it opens and head up to my apartment. Very carefully I lean against the wall and try to relieve the pressure in my feet.
I might wear heels all the time, but that doesn’t mean I’m used to them. I swear some heels are actual torture devices. Then again, as the saying goes, beauty is pain. The elevator slows down and comes to a stop, so I push off the wall, wincing when my feet ache.
I can’t wait to take these off for good.
As I step off the elevator, I take two steps toward my door but pause when I see him.
“What are you doing here?”
Max is leaning against my door, and it’s clear he’s been drinking. His hands are shoved in his pockets, something he rarely does, and his eyes are glassy. Despite him being a little worse for wear, he’s still handsome as hell in his tux, and for once his hair is still in place.
“Waiting for you to get home,” he rasps as he pushes off my door.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him as I step forward.
“Where is he?” he asks.
“Who?”
“Clint,” he asks, seeming desperate.
“He’s on his way home,” I tell him.
“You didn’t invite him up?”
I step closer to him. “No, Max. I didn’t invite him up.”
Max steps to the side, and I open my apartment door. He follows me inside and shuts the door behind him. I can’t help the jolt to my system when he turns the lock.
I know it’s a normal action for him, but somehow it feels like more.
It’s like the tension from the dance floor never left. Now it’s a living, breathing thing right here between us.
“Why didn’t you invite him up?” He keeps his tone low as he steps toward me.
“Because it’s not like that between Clint and me,” I tell him as I step back.
He keeps following me until I’ve backed into the kitchen and am stopped by the kitchen island.
“It’s not, is it?” He says it as if he already knew that.
Before I can tell him that Clint and I aren’t even dating anymore, he crowds me against the countertop, stealing my breath.
“You look so fucking gorgeous tonight. As soon as you walked into the room, you stole my breath away. Then when you turned around and I saw how little it covered, I thought I would end up in jail for fighting someone for looking at you a little too long.”
My heart races as his eyes drop to my lips.
Kiss me. Fucking kiss me.
“You made me jealous tonight. Do you know that? I’ve never been jealous before, not until you.”
As fucked up as it is, his words excite me. Sometimes you need to hear that you can make the person you’re in love with feel something. I go to speak, but he continues, silencing me.
“Then when we danced, I fell in love with the dress for another reason. I got to touch you, feel how soft your skin was under my hand. I hated walking away from you. I hated knowing that you would be going back to him. I wanted you to be my date. I wanted to show you off and show everyone who caught my eye I was taken. We would have danced all night,” he says gruffly and touches me lightly.
I can’t help but shiver at his touch. The air feels electric, the tension between us undeniable. I like him, and he likes me.
No, not like. Love.
It’s always been us, but I never thought we would make it to this point. It always felt like a pipe dream. Like winning the lottery.
I’ve waited for years for him to say these words, and now that he has, I’m speechless. My heart feels like it’s about to beat out of my chest, and my hands feel clammy.
“You really think that?” I ask breathlessly.
“I don’t think, I know,” he says so confidently.
This is it. This is where we either stay on the dead-end course we’re on or we make a new path. Somehow I know it’s me who has to make a step forward in this moment.
For a split second, fear slithers through my veins, but I quickly push it to the side. This is Max. I have nothing to be scared of. I just have to be bold.
Shutting my eyes, I take a deep breath. I can do this.
I open my eyes and lick my bottom lip. His eyes darken as he watches me do it.
Yes, this is it.
“Well, the night doesn’t have to be over yet,” I say, letting the words hang between us, waiting to see what he does.
MAX
“Well, the night doesn’t have to be over yet.”
Her eyes are wide and hopeful as her words hang between us.
This is it. This is my one shot, and I can’t mess it up.
“You’re right,” I rasp as I take a step back.
I hate the way her face falls, but I know it will all change as soon as she realizes what I’m doing.
Pulling out my phone, I find the playlist I’m looking for and hit play after broadcasting it to her speakers.
Her breath catches as I hold out my hand to her as “The Way You Look Tonight” by Frank Sinatra starts to play.
Iris slowly lifts her dress and kicks off her heels before placing her hand in mine. I pull her body into mine and start to sway. Slowly, my thumb draws circles on her lower back, making her lean into my touch.
I’ve known Iris for over a decade. I thought I knew everything about her, but I’m slowly realizing I don’t.
For example, I never knew until recently that she loved to be touched.
Anytime my hands are on her, even in the most simple way, she leans into my touch.
If I didn’t know better, I would think she was touch starved.
Silently I make a promise to myself that I’ll always touch her every chance I get. I’ll gladly fill this cup of hers.
Song after song, we continue to dance around her kitchen, holding each other tight.
“Where did you find this playlist? It has all of my favorite songs. I don’t even remember the last time I heard this one,” she asks quietly as “Better Together” by Jack Johnson plays.
I take a deep breath and confess, “I actually made it.”
She pulls back slightly and looks up at me. “You did?”
“Yeah.” I shrug.
“Why? When?”
“A while ago.” I shrug.
“But why?” she presses.
“Because I knew it would make you happy.”
She lets her head fall forward onto my chest. “Do you ever listen to it on your own?”
“Sometimes. Mainly when I want to feel closer to you,” I admit.
She pulls back, and a slow smile crosses her face. “Max, are you a romantic?” she teases.
“So what if I am? Do you have a problem with it?” I tease.
“No, not at all. In fact, I think I would like it.” She sways even closer, her body melded to my own.
“Good to know,” I murmur.
I step back and spin her away from me before pulling her back as the song comes to a close and the next begins.
“You’re a good dancer,” I whisper.
“I have a good partner,” she whispers back.
I smile warmly at her. “No, it’s all you.”
“Please, you’re the one who took dance lessons when you were younger,” she says, rolling her eyes playfully.
Ah yes, the classes my mother forced Mason and me to take because she thought they would make us proper gentlemen. Before thoughts of my mother can burrow their way in, I change the subject.
“This dress is sinful on you.”
“You like it?” she asks, the corner of her lips kicking up in a smile.
I growl. “You know I do.”
“Thanks. The girls helped me pick it out.”
Something I bet they had to do over FaceTime. I know if we were back in Boston, they would have all gone together and had a blast, but here it was a solo experience.
This is just another reason to push for the move of the company. Another reason moving home is the right choice for us and our future.
Her stomach growls, so I come to a stop.
The food at the banquet was delicious, but that was hours ago. Thankfully, this city never sleeps. Even though it’s close to midnight, there are plenty of places to order in from.
“Do you have anything here you want to eat, or do you want me to order something?” I ask her, pulling away.
“Don’t you dare stop dancing with me,” she says as she forces us to start moving again.
“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be hungry.”
“I’m positive,” she says as she rests her forehead on my chest.
For the next few songs I can’t help but stare down at her. She looks so fucking happy, which, in turn, makes me happy. I did this. I made her look like this.
Me. Not Clint. Not some other nameless dude, but me.
Maximilian Williamson.
“I can feel you staring.” She smirks.
“I can’t help myself. You’re beautiful.”
Her smirk turns into a full-blown smile. For a second, her eyes drop to my lips, and I know. She wants me to kiss her as badly as I want to kiss her.
Fuck it.
I come to a stop, and my hands move to cup her face.
The pulse in her neck kicks up as her eyes darken.
For once in my life, I don’t overthink it.
I don’t second-guess it. I cover her lips with mine.
When she parts her lips, I deepen the kiss but only slightly.
It takes everything in me to keep the kiss PG.
I’ve kissed my fair share of women in my life, but none have ever felt as right as it does when I kiss her. I’ve always known that Iris is different, and the kiss confirms it.
She’s mine.
Iris makes a little noise in the back of her throat, letting me know she’s into it just as much as I am. For a split second, I contemplate taking it further, sneaking my tongue into her mouth and seeing how far she’s willing to let this go.
But I can’t. I won’t. I want this to happen the right way. Not on the heels of her coming home from a date with another man. Not with liquor in my system.
I need her to know this decision was made with a clear head.
When I pull away, I rest my forehead on hers.
“What was that for?” she asks breathlessly.
“I had to know,” I rasp.
“Had to know what?” she asks, her lips brushing mine as she speaks.
“If you tasted as good as I thought you would.”
Her breath catches. “And the verdict?”
“Even better.”
Reluctantly, I pull away and step back.
Her hand comes up, and she lightly touches her lips, making me smile.
“Where are you going?” she asks as confusion fills her face.
“Home. I’ll see you soon, Iris, and sleep tight.”
As hard as it is, I force myself to leave her apartment, even though it feels like I’m leaving something behind.
No, I know I’m leaving something behind, but it’s the right thing to do.
Soon. Soon enough I’ll never have to walk away from her again.