Leap of Faith (Iris Boys Book 3)

by Lucy Smoke

  “I’m sorry, Little Bit,” he whispered. “I didn’t realize we were pressuring you so hard—or that you took it that way.”

  “What other way could I take it?” I asked, sniffling harder.

  “We’ll make it better, Sweetheart.” Bellamy leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. I liked that. It made me feel warm and gooey inside.

  “How?” I pushed despite my melty middle.

  Several eyes looked up and glanced around. Surprisingly, though, it was Grayson who leaned over the end of the bed and placed his hands on my legs over the blankets. “We’ll figure it out, Babydoll,” he assured me—blue eyes locked with mine.

  “Promise?” My head was swimming and exhaustion was tugging at me once more.

  The same as before, they all looked at each other before Grayson spoke again. Quietly, almost too low for me to hear as my eyelids slid shut. “We promise,” he said.

  I was drifting. Almost, but not quite asleep when I heard them. “How much medication did they give her?” someone asked.

  “They just came in before she woke up,” someone replied. “I thought that was supposed to make her sleep harder, not…well, not that.”

  “Do you think she meant it?” I recognized that voice. Texas. He sounded unsure, worried, but not angry. Were the others angry with me?

  “Of course she meant it. That stuff is like alcohol—truth juice,” Grayson’s low tone replied. “She meant it.”

  “Is that why you promised her?” Knix’s deep, sexy timbre rolled over my ears like liquid chocolate. I wanted to curl closer to it, dive into the richness of it, but my limbs were weighed down.

  There was a quiet moment where I wasn’t quite sure if I had managed to fall deeper into sleep and it was just my consciousness that was drifting in the dark warmth of my own mind. But then shockingly, the voices came back. Just a brief moment. A spotlight before it all went out once more.

  “I promised her because I love her.”

  The next time I woke, I was alone. The room was empty, and my head pounded. The door opened and the soft sounds of shuffling feet and monitors beeping in the distance reached my ears. I turned to the side, skipping over the blonde woman in light blue-green scrubs and looked up. My own monitor was black.

  "How are you feeling?" The nurse reached my bedside and I switched my gaze to her.

  I sat up slowly. "Fine," I said. "Did I have—um..." I trailed off, looking at the door, wondering where the guys were.

  "Visitors?" she supplied. I nodded and received a smile in return. "Oh yes, quite a few male friends you have there." Her smile flipped, and she frowned when she noticed that the monitor was black. "Huh, someone must have accidentally pulled this out of the wall." She leaned down plugging it back in. I frowned, grimacing at the noise.

  "Do you know where they went?" I asked.

  She smiled once more. "Oh yes, I do believe a couple went to get your paperwork. You're being released."

  "I am?"

  "Yes, we only held you overnight. We had someone come in and wake you up every hour or so. Do you not recall?" I shook my head. "Well, no worries. You woke up, answered questions, and went right back to sleep. We gave you some pain medication not long after you first arrived, but we were informed that the first time you woke up, you acted a bit strangely—not uncommon—but we just wanted to be sure that no ill effects would take place afterwards and you didn't seem to need it much after the initial examination."

  "Oh." I reached back and touched the back of my head. Sure enough, there was a small lump the size of a quarter on the back of my head. I looked down my arms when I stretched them out in front of me and noticed some bruising and scraping.

  The nurse busied herself around the room, retrieving the clipboard at the end of my bed and then gesturing to the small stand to the side of me, on the other side—away from the monitors. "They did bring you some clothes to change into. Do you think you'll need some help?"

  I shook my head and flung the bed sheets to the side. I slid my legs over and then gently pulled the heart monitor wires and stickies away from my skin. The monitor started going haywire and the nurse sighed before reaching up and turning it off for me. I grimaced at the gross residue the stickies left behind on my skin. I'd have to see if I could scrub it off in the bathroom while I changed.

  The nurse set the clipboard down on my bed, alongside my legs and tipped my arm to the side, revealing where they had inserted the needle for the IV they had given me. She quickly and gently removed it, checked the rest of me and made sure I could stand without vomiting or passing out. She snatched up the clipboard once more and then left. I moved around the side of the bed and reached for the small pile of clothes one of the guys had left for me—probably Bellamy, I decided. He knew how much I loved the yoga pants I had started wearing for our workouts and self-defense training and my favorite pair sat on top.

  I moved to the bathroom, closing the door behind me, and paused to take a look at myself across the room in the mirror. There were dark circles under my eyes. My arms felt sore and achy as I set the clothes on the sink and then reached up to untie the strings holding the hospital gown closed at the back. I grimaced and stretched awkwardly as I let the material slide to the floor.

  I shuffled through the clothes but when I didn’t find any panties, I sighed. The yoga pants went on sans underwear and I reached for the sports bra and tank top next. When I tried the light jacket, I realized that the tank top was really a much better option than longer sleeves—the fabric over the scrapes along my arms made me wince in pain. I slid the jacket back off and held it in my hands.

  Looking up, my gaze met my reflection once more. Bruises and scratches lined my elbows and the sides of my arms. I touched one finger to a long, red scrape. It hurt. My body ached. But my mind wasn’t on the accident. It was on the vague memories of what had happened—what I had said the first time I woke up.

  What had I done?

  I jerked my gaze back up to my face. There were lines around the corners of my lips, redness under my eyes—joining the dark marks of exhaustion despite how long I had apparently slept. Overnight, the nurse had said. An entire night where the guys had been given the chance to think about my stupid admission. I gulped back on a tight feeling in my throat.

  What had they thought about me?

  Even now, they were out there checking me out of the hospital. Was that because they were willing to stick around and find out if they could work something out or were they just good people? Did they just want to make sure I was okay, and then they would come in here and calmly explain why, after this job, we should all go our separate ways? I would have to move out of the only place where I felt truly and honestly happy and safe.

  Was it all over?

  My bare feet on the cold tile slid backwards and my back hit the door. Something sinister slithered up through my soles, crawling into my veins, up to my heart—squeezing the organ in my chest. My throat closed. I gasped and gasped again. Tears popped and slid down my cheeks into the hollows of my neck and over my collarbone. The tracks burned like fire racing across my skin.

  I sobbed and slapped a hand over my mouth, trying to stifle the noise. My knees hit the floor hard. Nails bit into the flesh of my arms as I gasped for air. My chest squeezed—cutting me off. My heart thundered in my ears, screaming loud enough that I had to close my eyes against the pain it caused.

  We could have been fine. Why did I have to ruin it?

  If I looked inside myself—looked at all the people in my life that I loved—I’d see ties to friends and family. Worn and gray ties. Ties that had died off. Ties that might die off. But then I’d see the five golden threads that tied me to five important people. Those ties were beautiful, painful, impossible, but mine. All mine. If I reached for a pair of scissors and cut one of them—a piece of myself would die off. What would it mean to cut away all five of them? Would I even survive?

  The sound of my gasping breath and the sobs that could no longer
be choked back, no matter how hard I tried, hurt my ears. It resounded. Repeated. And it destroyed me. So focused on the tiny, broken shards sliding up through my skin and littering the floor of the hospital bathroom, I didn’t even notice when the door behind me opened or when shoes squeaked against the bathroom tile until strong arms wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me up against an equally strong chest.

  He burned bright like the sun—they all did. Warming me from the inside and chasing away all the pain and dark shadows. My face pressed into soft fabric and my unbrushed, matted hair was stroked away from my cheeks. Long fingers slid through the strands and then tucked them over my ears. Feather-soft kisses rained down on my forehead, against my temples, on my cheeks, and closed eyelids.

  When I finally managed to open my eyes and look up, I wasn’t shocked at all—though I felt like I should have been—by who it was. His eyes bore into mine, searching and insecure. But I knew he understood. The vulnerability that I had crashed into, that had washed over me even if for only a brief, soul-crushing moment, was reflected in those ice-blue eyes of his. And despite the uneven rise and fall of my shuddering breaths, when I leaned up and slanted my mouth over his—desperate for what, I wasn’t sure—he didn’t refuse me. No. Grayson welcomed it.

  I fell into the kiss like drops of water from the clouds. Naturally. But I wasn’t ever quite sure where I was going to land. Grayson just let me go. He let me leap and no matter where I was going—in this moment, I was sure he’d catch me. His hands traced up and down my spine—stoking a hunger in me. I reached up and clutched his collar, pulling myself towards him.

  I kept my lips pressed to his. He was my oxygen, my breath. My legs shifted over to either side of his hips and my core aligned with the seam of his jeans. Surprisingly, when I pulled back and gripped his hair—panting with the need for more, more safety, more feeling… just more—he let me lick at his lips. Grayson opened his mouth for me, groaned as I lowered my core over his growing erection. The sparks that danced through my bones chased away any lingering ill effects.

  His large hands gripped my hips as he ground himself into me, shifting his hips until my breath caught once more. I pressed forward, dipping my tongue against his. This was different. Our first kiss had been hurried and rushed. Ripe with danger and knowing that we could have been caught at any minute. This was light and easy. Just as hot, yes, but incredibly freeing.

  Could a person feel like they were flying and grounded all in one breath?

  The answer: yes.

  Grayson took over, crushing his lips against mine. Tongue sinking into my mouth and twining with mine. He cupped the back of my head with one hand and gripped my hips, keeping my lower body pinned to his with the other. I felt him pulse through our clothes and a shudder rippled up my legs. Tingles like little sharp points scraped against my flesh as Grayson devoured me.

  Then that hand of his slipped around to my front. My eyes popped open. So did his. He waited, his fingers tracing the edge of my yoga pants as he waited for my permission. Something was happening. Right here. Right now. I could make a decision. What did I want to do? Did I want to ignore what I had heard him say? Or did I want to answer him?

  He loved me.

  Grayson Caruso loved me. Harlow Hampton. Normal girl extraordinaire. Well, I suppose I wasn’t normal anymore.

  What did I want to do with that confession even if he hadn’t meant for me to hear? I know one thing I didn’t want to do and that was cut his golden thread. So, I took a breath and I nodded. Grayson kissed me again and slipped the tips of his fingers under the fabric. If he was surprised by my lack of underwear, he didn’t say or do anything to let me know. His fingers simply lowered down to my core and pressed against me, turning until they thrummed against a shocking bundle of nerves. I jumped in his arms, tearing my lips away.

  “Are you okay?” he panted.

  I clenched my hips on either side of him as his fingers stilled. “I don’t want you to stop,” I finally said, meeting his gaze. Our foreheads pressed together, and our breaths mixed as his entire hand disappeared into my pants and then a finger slid up inside me. I jerked again at the electricity of the feeling.

  “Shhh.” His mouth lowered to the bared skin of my neck. He began to lick away the dried tears there and then he began to move. Grayson’s fingers pumped in and out, back and forth. I blinked, feeling a blinding, building tension climbing the walls of my insides. Something just out of reach but growing closer. Not unlike when Bellamy had put his mouth down there. I found myself rising up on my knees and then grinding down on his fingers.

  The one inside me moved with purpose, with enough energy to leave me gasping and seeking that just out of reach spark. Grayson’s free hand moved to my chest sliding across the fabric that separated us. Even through the sports bra and tank top, I could see the outline of my nipple when I looked down. He pinched it and a noise that sounded halfway between a shriek and a moan was pulled from my lips. Even with the layers between his fingers and my nipple, I had felt the tug of that pinch down to where his other fingers continued to manipulate the nerves between my legs. I widened my knees, needing more, needing it harder.

  Grayson grinned up at me, a smirk that reminded me of who he was when I had first met him—well, technically, when I had first actually paid attention to him. All smartass. It was hot and sexy as hell, that grin. Especially right now. With his hand in my pants, stroking me closer and closer to what promised to be a show of fireworks. It was like the walls were caving in and I was drowning under the crushing weight, but Grayson was there. He held them up. Put himself between me and the walls—and then he looked at me…when he looked at me something eased in my chest. It made me feel softer, warmer, less broken.

  “Harlow,” he grunted, dropping the grin as another finger slid up inside me alongside the first. He scissored them apart and I gasped at the feeling of being stretched. “Babydoll.”

  I squeezed my eyes closed, praying that he wouldn’t stop. And thankfully, he didn’t. His breathing increased and so did the speed of his fingers. They moved in and out and when his thumb moved back up to the little button above where his fingers were—I couldn’t stop myself. I gasped and ground myself down on his erection as hard as I could, rocking back and forth with the sensation of the overwhelming fire that raced across my skin. Grayson groaned and then rested his forehead on my shoulder as the hand he held at my chest shot down to his crotch and dove into the waistband.

  Only when the fire fizzled out, did I realize we were both panting hard. Slowly, I opened my eyes and found his chest rising and falling to the pace of my own and his gaze on mine. “Wow.”

  He smirked before kissing me quickly on the lips. “Wow is right, Babydoll. But with you, I kinda expect a lot of ‘wows’.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. So, when he pulled his hand from my pants and slid me off his lap, I didn’t protest. No matter how good resting against him had felt. “Um…” I trailed off, cheeks flushing. “I can…um…take care of you,” I offered lamely, “if you want.”

  Grayson stood up and then slid his other hand out of his pants, revealing those fingers to be as sticky as the hand that had been in my pants. My cheeks didn’t just flush—they flamed a bright red. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, bumping the knobs on the sink with his elbow before pumping the soap dispenser the same way and letting a large amount of foam soap pile into his free hand. “I’m pretty sure it’s taken care of.”

  Grayson finished washing his hands and then helped me stand. “You okay?” he asked.

  I nodded as my eyes slid to the floor and stayed there until Grayson tucked a finger under my chin and raised me up. His lips were turned down. “I mean it, Harlow. Are you okay?”

  I bit my bottom lip and though my head was tilted back so that his eyes could examine me, I kept my own gaze trained away—an embarrassed flush tinting my cheeks a dark pink. I knew because I could see the rising color in my reflection. "I'm fine," I assured him.

&n
bsp; In my peripheral vision, I watched as his frown deepened. "Then why won't you look at me? Do you regret it?"

  Finally, my eyes flashed to his. I blinked at the raging uncertainty I found in the depths of his gaze. It was so strong that it made my breath catch in my throat. "I don't regret it." That's the truth. That's what makes my chest clench—the fact that I don't regret it. And maybe he saved me from my own crazy insecurities and fears, but that doesn't erase that there's still so much that we—him, me, and the guys—still need to talk about. I want to know—I have to know—if I've lost them. Grayson doesn't speak for them and maybe he can handle the fact that he now knows that I don't want to, that I can't, choose, but that doesn't mean any of the others can.

  At my words, though, the tension in Grayson's shoulders and face eases. It doesn't disappear completely, but the lines around his mouth smooth out and his muscles unclench slightly. He drops my chin and reaches for my hand. "Good," he replied, squeezing my cold fingers.

  He reached past me and pushed the door open. I let him tug me behind him, filing into the hospital room to find several angry and confused stares. My tongue slapped the top of my mouth and dried up. The chills of anxiety wrapped long, tentacled fingers around my neck. Marv's tornado eyes trailed down to where my fingers were clutched in Grayson's hand, accusation evident. Knix and Bellamy remained quiet, but I could see the vulnerability in their gazes—the question and the confusion. Surprisingly, Texas was the one that approached us first. When I thought he, too, would hold back, he moved right up to us and took my other hand.

  "How are you feeling?" he asked.

  Somehow, I managed to unstick my tongue and answer him. "My head hurts a little," I admitted.

  Texas' eyes squeezed with concern. He didn't even look at my other hand—the hand that Grayson refused to release. "The doctor wasn't sure if you should get pain meds, but if you think you need some, we can—"

  I shook my head, squeezing his fingers back. "No," I said. "I can just take something over the counter or something." I chanced a look around the room. "Can you tell me exactly what happened? About the accident or anything?" I tilted my head up to Grayson as I recalled something else. "Why'd you text me to meet at the house?"