Chapter 24 Iris #2
“You know,” I say, my voice catching slightly, “I never did get my New Year’s kiss.
” Time is suspended between us. I’m acutely aware of every point of contact—the gentle pressure of his fingers, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my palms, the way his breath mingles with mine in the narrow space between us.
His brown eyes catch the soft glow from my bedside lamp, revealing flecks of amber, warming as they hold my gaze with an openness that makes my chest ache.
That impossibly endearing smile of his appears—the one that starts in one corner of his mouth and slowly spreads until it transforms his entire face. I’ve seen it countless times before, but never this close, never directed at me with such unmistakable tenderness.
Something shifts inside me, a quiet certainty settling into place.
For months I’ve been fighting this, constructing elaborate reasons why I shouldn’t let him in, shouldn’t trust this feeling.
But standing here, wrapped in his warmth, those reasons are distant and hollow.
I feel bold and terrified all at once, but mostly I feel ready—ready to stop denying myself, ready to accept that good things might actually be meant for me.
That Collin, with all his patience and kindness, might actually be meant for me.
I allow myself to lean into him, just slightly, a deliberate choice rather than an accident. His eyes soften as he notices, his gaze gentle yet intent, tracing the movement of my lips as my tongue darts out to wet them.
“Well, that’s something we should fix immediately,” he murmurs, the hint of playfulness in his voice matched by the gentle squeeze of his hands at my waist. “After all, it’s supposed to be good luck for the whole year.
” His smile deepens, pulling his dimple in.
He glances up, eyes meeting mine in a way that settles something restless inside me.
“This only goes as far as you want it to,” he whispers, hand reaching up to touch my chin, thumb pulling down my bottom lip, then tracing the curve of my jaw.
My nod is so slight, I’m not sure he catches it before his lips are on mine.
Soft and warm, as his mouth moves over mine, large hands tangling in my hair.
That familiar dizzy, floaty feeling wraps around me like it did on Christmas Eve, and I can’t think of a single good reason for why I would ever want to stop.
He walks me backwards until my legs hit the edge of the bed.
One hand sliding across my lower back, pressing me closer.
His tongue traces the seam of my lips, seeking entrance.
I part them with a soft gasp, meeting his tongue with mine.
He pulls back just enough to grip the hem of his hoodie, yanking it over his head, along with his shirt, in one fluid motion and tossing it aside.
My breath catches at the sight of him—all taught muscle and smooth skin.
I’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times, at practice and that morning I found him passed out on my couch, but still I can’t help but stare.
“Like what you see?” He smirks.
“Shut up,” I tell him, but my hands betray me as they trail down his chest of their own accord. His muscles twitch under my touch.
“That’s not a no,” he murmurs, before capturing my lips again.
The kiss deepens, stealing my breath as he pulls me flush against him.
Moments later we break apart again, breathing hard.
My hands tremble as I reach for the hem of my shirt, blood rushing in my ears.
It has been so long, too long. What if I wasn’t good at this anymore?
What if I disappointed him. Collin King, the man with a revolving door of women was hardly the ideal candidate for my sexual reintroduction.
But he wasn’t that man anymore. He’s the guy that makes me laugh, and always shows up for me.
The guy that sees all of me and reminds me it’s worth showing the rest of the world. He’s just Collin.
I inhale, closing my eyes as I pull my shirt over my head. Cool air hits my skin and I fight the urge to cross my arms over my chest. When I open my eyes he’s staring back at me, mouth slightly agape. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, just... stares.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, glancing down at myself. Did he not like my body? I knew I didn’t look like most of the women in his bed, not since I had Jamie, but surely I wasn’t that bad. Panic starts to rise as my hands come up to shield myself from his view.
“I-I... I’m sorry,” Collin stutters, shaking his head as if snapping himself out of a trance.
His cheeks are tinged pink, scrubbing a hand over his face.
He looks up at the ceiling and then back down at me.
“It’s just... You’re so damn beautiful.” The panic recedes, replaced by a warmth that spreads through my chest.
“Oh,” I breathe out, slightly stunned as my lips stretch into a shy smile. Collin lets out a shaky laugh, brown eyes crinkling at the corners.
“I’m clearly not good at this.” His gaze roves over me, like he can’t decide where he wants to start as he gently pulls my arms away from my body.
“I don’t want to mess this up. You deserve so much better than that.
” His tone softens. “I’ve never had something worth holding onto before, Iris.
I don’t... I don’t know what to do.” His forehead falls to mine.
My heart swells. Having him so close in my space, knowing that I’m not alone in this mess. It’s almost too much to bear.
“Just be with me,” I whisper, leaning up on my toes. “That’s all I need.” My lips ghost over his. His hands find my hips again, thumbs brushing over the bones there as his mouth slants over mine, teeth sinking into my bottom lip. He works his way down, hands palming the outside of my thighs.
“Jump.” My legs wrap around his waist at his command, arms twining around his neck.
His mouth crashes against mine. Hungry and searching.
His tongue gliding over mine, stealing every breath until I’m dizzy.
He pulls away, a wicked grin twisting his mouth before he tosses me.
I land sprawled out on my duvet, giggling as he follows me onto the bed.
He wedges a knee between my legs, and I gasp at the contact as he presses his face into the crook of my neck, tongue trailing from my collarbone up to my jaw, nipping at the shell of my ear.
I hum in approval and feel him smile against my skin.
He trails soft openmouthed kisses down over the swell of my breasts, fingers working at the clasp, pulling the bra from my body.
His groan is low, guttural. “So fucking perfect.” Every word punctuated by a kiss, ending in a stinging bite as he sucks marks into my flesh.
Tongue soothing over the hurt. “So fucking pretty.” He inches down my body, lips trailing over the plains of my stomach.
Goosebumps rising in his wake. My shorts are pulled down my legs, one hand circling my ankle before he pulls it up to his mouth.
His eyes are so dark, so warm as he drinks me in.
I watch as he works his mouth up my leg, stopping to lay his head against the inside of my trembling thigh.
His thumb brushes over my cotton panties and my body jerks in response.
I hiss in a breath. Impatient. Needy. “So fucking mine,” he whispers, reverent as he slips the fabric down my legs, groaning at the sight.
I fight the urge to close my legs, to hide myself from him, not that I could if I tried as his fingers press into my thighs.
Grip bruising as he spreads my legs, looking up at me through half lidded eyes.
He pauses then, pinning me with that stare before licking one long stripe up my center.
A strangled whine escapes my lips and I press my hands over my mouth, head dropping back onto the bed.
“Fuck,” he groans, tongue sliding back over me as he pulls me firmly against his mouth.
I push myself onto my elbows, staring down at him.
I’m panting, desperately trying to suck down a solid breath.
His tongue flattens against me, and I barely choke out a gasp before his mouth latches back on, humming low.
His head shaking against me as heat pools at my center, temperature spiking.
There’s nowhere to go, no way to escape from this torment.
“Collin—” My legs shake as I fall apart beneath him, eyes squeezed shut. I press my hips up into his mouth as he moans against me. Incoherent sounds tumbling from my mouth as he slows, pressing tender kisses to the inside of my thigh.
“For the record, I was right. You taste delicious.” The left corner of his mouth comes up in a devilish grin.
Dimple peeking through. He releases me, hands fumbling with the button of his jeans.
I sit up, tongue darting out to wet my lips as I watch him.
He’s perfect. Every part of him. My eyes track his movements as he slides his jeans and boxers down his hips.
Eyes wide and wanting, unable to look away.
Collin Anthony King is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
It’s an undeniable fact. They should erect statues in his honor.
“Iris... do you want to stop?” Shit. I’m staring.
“I—what? No, I... sorry.” I laugh, my brows knit together, chest heaving. “Just... wow.” I swallow. This whole situation is fucking absurd, and I love it. I feel like a teenager again. Reckless. Stupid. Alive.
“Wow?”