12. Memory Lane #3
It was expected that he marry within the family.
As the reigning Phantom, they wanted him to marry an heiress to one of the other heads.
But, he didn't give a shit. Nightstalker in particular, was pushing at him, upset that he rejected his own daughter.
Let him rage. The bastard could choke on his own arrogance for all he cared.
Iris was his. No other would ever take her place. If he couldn’t have her, he would have no one at all.
A sound at his door drew his attention. Someone was knocking.
He turned a lethal glare on the door. The knock itself was soft, but insistent.
His glare darkened, prepared to berate whoever dared to disrupt him, only to find Iris there, her smile wide and happy.
He quickly smoothed his face, the anger disappearing as if it'd never been there.
"I know you said you were busy, Ricky," she murmured sheepishly, pushing the door open wider as her grin deepened. "But I couldn't bear the thought of you cooped up here all alone." She held up a wicker picnic basket, the innocence of the gesture sending shockwaves ricocheting through him.
No one had ever treated him like she did. Like a normal man. Instead of the powerful tycoon. Instead of the phantom. But that was because she had no idea about that half of his life. He kept that hidden from her, she was too good for that. He stared at her as she crossed his office.
The sunlight from the window draped over her, casting a halo around her dark hair, making her seem otherworldly—too pure for the likes of him. Like the angel she truly was. She moved closer, telling him about the food she brought so that they could eat together.
As he watched her walk towards him, Nash’s chest tightened. The weight of longing pressing down like a physical force. His gaze lingered on the curve of her waist. The sundress clinging to Iris like a second skin, hugging her slender form in all the right places.
His beast surged, desperate for her. Wanting to pull her close, to assert his possession with primal force right there against the cold glass of his office window.
Strip her naked and press her breasts flat against the transparent windows.
He wanted the whole world to see him claim her.
See the ecstasy that only he could bring to her.
But he was an expert in taming his beast. He shoved it down, determined to keep his darkness from touching her.
"You're beautiful, ma fleur," his voice was low and laced with an unspoken promise. "You could never be an interruption."
With a smile that lit up her brown eyes, Iris perched herself on his lap, her movements fluid and intimate.
Throwing a smirk over her shoulder as she wiggled provocatively on his lap.
"I thought we could share something simple, just the two of us," she said, her voice a soothing melody.
"Who needs a fancy day out on the town? There's nowhere I would rather be than right here with you. "
Nash wrapped an arm around her, anchoring her to him, afraid she might disappear like a mirage.
He was never supposed to have someone like her for himself.
But he took her, anyway. She opened the picnic basket, revealing an array of delicacies.
He barely spared the food a glance. Nothing compared to the temptation of the woman before him.
One handful at a time, she fed him his lunch.
He recognized that everything she fed him was one of his favorite foods.
The thought she put in to this lunch lit something up in side of him.
She wanted to make him happy, that's all.
Even as they ate, she didn't feed herself, just continued to feed him mouthful after mouthful.
Letting him enjoy his meal first, but opening up like the good girl she was when he returned the favor.
Heat curled up within him as he watched her mouth open and take in a small cube of cheese he held out to her.
As Iris brought a strawberry to his lips, her fingers brushed against his lips, sending a jolt of desire coursing through him. He savored the sweetness, but what he truly craved was the slight saltiness in gout from her fingers. She was his favorite treat.
"Thank you," he whispered, his blue eyes fixed on hers, reflecting a storm of emotions. Gratitude battled with a thick possessive lust.
In her presence, he found a reprieve, a fleeting escape from world he lived in. His father raised him to rise through the ranks. To elevate the Nash name even further. But with her, she wanted nothing from him.
Nothing. Just him.
He came out of the memory, his eyes locking on her sleeping form on the monitor once more. That had been the best Saturday he'd ever had. The only happiness he'd ever experienced was because of her. He rubbed at his chest again, that ache returning with a vengeance.
He'd get her back. And this time, there was no one to stop him. He had climbed as high as it was possible to climb. He ruled the world, even if the world wasn't aware of that.