Release (Iris Series)

by Lynn, Rebecca

  She was momentarily speechless. It was kind of sweet, what he just said, and she allowed herself a tiny smile, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe if I make you uncomfortable, you should find someone else to…chase.” Her smile became wider.

  “Vixen.” Pause. “Number three.” His hand reached from her chin to cup the nape of her neck. “I agree that the circumstances surrounding the potential issues with the Institute aren’t ideal, but…I’m confident a solution will be arranged.”

  Her back went up and she could feel her face heating with frustration.

  “But at whose expense? I’ve worked hard to get to this point. This is the career path I’ve chosen, Jeremy. This has been my dream.”

  “I understand that, and I promise you nothing will jeopardize your future in that career. I would never in a million years ask you to give that up.”

  “You’re working off the assumption that I want there to be…something… between us.”

  “There already is something between us. Don’t deny that you feel it. You’re a liar, if you do.”

  As if he knew that would piss her off, he squeezed the back of her neck, filtering his fingers up into her hair and grasping a hold of it firmly.

  “Number four. Friday night did happen. And you and I both know we won’t forget it. I wouldn’t want to… Because do you know what else I’ve been thinking about for the last two days?” his voice dropped to a captivating whisper.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear this. The fact that he had his hand in her hair, her head pulled back, and his body pressing her to the door, already meant that she was a goner.

  “I’ve been thinking of you pressed up against the wall in your foyer, flying apart in my arms, hearing that groan from the back of your throat when you were coming, your eyes all glazed over.” He smelled her neck again. “And your scent,” he paused. “You smell so warm, and rich. Like dark, succulent berries.”

  Then he shifted, and forced her to meet his eyes. “But that’s not what’s fueled my fantasies since then…Do you know what it was?” Pause. “Your taste. God, I want to taste every inch of you.”

  He licked his lips as if savoring each word. Seductive. Velvety. Sensual. Her mind went to chocolate.

  Ryann was turning to mush again, and little whimpers began to escape as he tasted the center of her neck along her throat nibbling to the other side, sinking his teeth into the flesh where her neck and shoulder met. “Smooth and soft.”

  Her hands were resting on his forearms, as she watched his dark hair at her throat. Her neck felt like it couldn’t hold up the weight of her head anymore. She let her head fall forward until her forehead hit his chest.

  One of Jeremy’s arms reached around her waist while the other reached further up into her hair, where he released her clip, tossed it on the floor, and watched her wavy hair tumble down just past her shoulders.

  He buried his nose and his hand into her tresses. “This is the first time I’ve seen it down,” he murmured. “Mmm, so sexy. It looks like wine and chocolate,” he said noting its auburn color. Then he began to massage her scalp.

  That’s when she knew she was toast.

  Was there a woman alive who didn’t love their scalp to be massaged?

  Instinctively, she began to move her head, subconsciously directing where she wanted him to apply pressure. She moaned. He continued massaging while angling her head up so he could look in her eyes. They were heavy lidded, and unfocused. His tone was husky. “Do you like that?”

  “Yes,” she purred, beginning to drool.

  She could swear she heard him chuckle. “Good to know.”

  Before she knew what was happening, he picked her up in his arms, and began walking. She came out of her daze and held onto his shoulders. “What are you doing?” she asked, feeling a moment of panic.

  She tensed, and he smiled, saying, “We’re just going to the sofa.”

  “Why does that not make me feel any safer?” she asked.

  “Because you’re a smart woman. And you know, that eventually, I’ll be fucking you on just about every surface I can find.”

  Her heartbeat skipped a beat, and her sex clenched. But, she responded, “You’re such an arrogant ass.”

  He shrugged charmingly, “Confident ass.” He winked.

  She smirked, until he said, “But right now, I have something to show you.”

  She raised her eyebrows, and nearly choked.

  He smiled that lazy sexy smile. “That’ll happen eventually, too. I can promise you that. But not tonight.”

  She frowned with mild disappointment.

  He flopped down onto the sofa with her, then he placed her next to him on the sofa. While he was reaching down to the floor for the paper bag he’d brought, she looked at the bulge in his jeans, and he noticed her eyes latched onto him.

  He froze, then cupped her neck so she was forced to look him in the eye.

  He licked his lips. “Unless, of course, you want that to happen tonight.”

  He leaned in close, holding her face still so she was forced to acknowledge his perusal of her face, her mouth.

  “Are you wet for me right now, Ryann?” he asked quietly. “Tell me. Tell me that you’re drenched, and you can’t wait for me to touch you again, like I did Friday night. I want to feel you come again. This time around my cock…feel you clench around me, milking me dry.”

  She took a deep breath, smelled his musky scent, and tried to calm her erratic breathing.

  “When you’re ready, Ryann….And know that I’m counting the moments until you are.” Then he added, “And if I’m going to make it through this conversation, I’m going to need you to keep your eyes up here,” he said half-kidding, pointing to his eyes.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  He nodded, and leaned down to the paper bag on the floor, pulling out a blood red iris.

  It was gorgeous! Her breath caught in her chest. She had never seen one that color before. It had some striations of purple and orange leading to its yellow center, as well, and it was absolutely breathtaking.

  She looked at him in awe. “It’s beautiful. How on earth did you find one so unique? I usually only see white or purple ones at the florist.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “I love it. Irises have always been my favorite flower, but I don’t know how on earth you could have known that.” She continued to look at his gorgeous face in amazement.

  “Confession time. When I walked into your house on Friday night, amidst some of the boxes, I saw a painting of a white iris on the floor, leaning up against the wall. It was a watercolor. Was it one of yours?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes,” she said a little embarrassed. She had done the painting after Brent had given her a white iris after their first date. She had told him of her love of that particular flower in passing, and that had been his gift to her the second time they had gone out. The painting was of that flower. Her painting was very quiet in mood, done in a pastel background, with the white flower in the forefront. When she and Brent had gotten married, he had insisted that she hang it in the bedroom of their new home, and she had acquiesced.

  “It’s a beautiful watercolor. You’re very talented, Ryann. I’m honored that I got to see it, even if it wasn’t by your choice. Although, my mom may not be happy I’ve seen it since you promised her she would be the first to see your work,” he said teasingly.

  She smiled, and looked at the red flower. “This is stunning, Jeremy. Thank you.” She was touched.

  “It made me think of you. I didn’t want to get you a white one like in the painting. When I think of you, I think of vibrancy and passion. White would’ve been too, I don’t know, bland or subdued. I don’t want you subdued. I want you wild. Warm and alive. Like this flower.”

  She didn’t know what to say. He obviously didn’t know the story behind the painting of the white iris, and she was struck by the irony of the moment. The white flower had been given to her by Brent after their first date. Now this u
nique and passionate red one had been given to her after the first time she had met Jeremy. He was right. She didn’t want the white iris to be a description of her anymore. She wanted more in her life, and the red one made her feel exhilarated, sensual, erotic…and hopeful. Knowing he saw her that way thrilled her.

  She cleared her throat, and pushed her hair behind her ear.

  “Tomorrow is graduation?” he asked.

  “Yes. It’s been a long couple of weeks with packing and grading final papers and exams. It’s kind of bittersweet. It’s going to be weird not having to grade essays on Shakespeare anymore. But I’m glad it’s over. It’ll be a nice change.”

  “I know you’re an excellent teacher. I vaguely remember Robbie talking about his favorite English teacher. Just hearing my family talk about you is enough proof. You’re not going to miss it once you’re at the Institute?”

  “I’ll still be teaching in some capacity at the Institute, it’ll just look different.” She paused awkwardly. “I feel like we shouldn’t be talking about the Institute.” She sighed and began to get up. “Jeremy, this really isn’t a good idea –”

  He held her in place with his arm around her, then lifted her chin to look at him.

  “Listen to me.” He paused and swallowed, as if gathering his wits about him. “I hope I’ve made it clear that I want to see you again.”

  “I think, given both of us will be at the Institute, it’s a guarantee that we will see each other again.”

  “Stop talking and listen. That’s not the kind of ‘seeing’ I meant, and you know it.” Pause. “I want you. Badly.”

  She could feel the hum of the sexual tension in the air, and it took every ounce of willpower for her not to look at his erection.

  “And you want me.”

  She let go of a frustrated sigh.

  He moved his hand with his own frustration, and wrapped it through her hair. “Why do you insist on fighting it, Ryann?” he whispered, irritated. He held her head even firmer. “Stop fighting me.”

  “I don’t even know you. I mean what do you do for a living? How old are you? What’s your middle name?” she said in a panicked rush.

  “Art dealer. 32. Quinn. My turn. Same questions, although I know the first answer.”

  She let out a frustrated sigh trying to process his answers. Then she smirked. “27. Fiona.” Then she continued. “My mom lives in Hamden, Connecticut, with her husband Anthony. My dad left us when I was a baby. She remarried when I was in ninth grade, and they moved out of New Jersey when I left for college.”

  “To Columbia. Smarty pants,” he said, impressed.

  She paused. “How did you know where I went?”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  Her application. The same way he found her address.

  She looked away, and sighed once again. “Jeremy, you shouldn’t be looking at my application for your own personal purposes. This is what I’m talking about. I just don’t see this working.”

  As if she hadn’t expressed her discomfort, he asked, “What other questions do you have?” He stroked her hair back from her face.

  “You’re not listening, Jeremy.”

  “No, I’m listening just fine, Ryann. You’re not listening. I just don’t see the same gloom and doom scenario that you do.” She was about to protest, but he continued, “When it comes time for your evaluation, I’ll simply remove myself from the process and call in an alternate. That way, there’ll be no conflict of interest.”

  He waited for that to sink in, and watched for her reaction.

  She couldn’t think of an argument for it, and he began to smile.

  “Any more questions?”

  She looked stumped then disgruntled. Then, as if a thought had just popped into her head, she asked with curiosity, “What kinds of things do you do every day with your job? I’ve always been fascinated with careers having to do with art.”

  “Well, in addition to some travel, I spend my days in contact with clients looking for particular pieces, and then most of my time is spent finding those pieces.” Pause. “And some of my time is spent looking for new artists to present at my gallery.”

  She looked at him, surprised. “You own a gallery?”

  He cleared his throat. “The M Gallery.”

  “The M Gallery is your gallery?!”

  He smiled.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  Still smiling, he shook his head no.

  She nodded. When it looked like she couldn’t think of anything else to ask, he said, “See? That wasn’t so bad. Now you know me a little better.”

  She sighed. Why was she fighting this?

  He continued. “Tomorrow is graduation. What are you doing on Tuesday?”

  “Tuesday is my first day at the Institute,” she mumbled.

  “I want to take you out to dinner after your first day.” Pause. “Say yes.”

  His eyes were pleading with her. How could she say no?

  She let go of a cleansing breath. “Okay.”

  He beamed, and her heart nearly stopped at how gorgeous he was. The hand in her hair began to stroke her scalp, and she could feel herself melting.

  He smiled and said quietly, “I’m going to kiss you now, Ryann.”

  And before she could think another thought, his lips were on her.

  Ahh. There was no doubt about it. This man knew his way around a woman’s mouth. God, he ate at her, sucking, biting, nibbling, licking into her. His kisses were a drug, and she could feel herself becoming addicted.

  His hand in her hair pulled a little harder, and she gasped. But he didn’t let up. He just continued to lay siege on her mouth.

  Her whimpers turned into a moan, and he suddenly released her, and glared at her with lust in his eyes. He looked as if he just thought of something.

  “Are Jonathan and Ayanna dating?” he asked out of nowhere.

  She blinked. “What?” she asked in a sexual fog. “No. They just met tonight for the first time, actually.” She frowned. “Why?”

  “What is Jonathan to you?”

  Flustered, she said, “He’s a good friend. We’ve worked together for years.”

  “How good of a friend?” he asked dangerously low.

  “Really? You stopped kissing me for this?” She rolled her eyes. “A platonic friend. He helped me to invest Brent’s...my late husband’s...life insurance money…and as I said earlier, found me this place.”

  A flicker of something reached his eyes, but it was gone before she could characterize the meaning there. “Good.” Pause. “Will he be going out for drinks with you and Ayanna tomorrow night?” he asked casually.

  She let go of a laugh, and shook her head. Was he jealous? She felt warm pleasure seep through her.

  “I highly doubt it. I don’t think he and Ayanna hit it off very well. It’ll just be us girls and will likely be an early night given I have to start at the Institute the next day….is that alright with you, Daddy?” she chuckled.

  He growled, and rolled, pushing her down onto the sofa so he was leaning over her. She immediately stopped laughing.

  “One thing you’ll discover, Ryann, is I can be very possessive with things that are mine.”

  Although she felt a thrill at his statement, she felt compelled to say, “Oh? Possessive with your things? Because, last I checked, that’s all men could possess. Unless of course you’re living in a different century than the rest of us,” she said sweetly.

  His eyes glittered with a myriad of emotions… frustration, lust, dominance. His erection was rock hard pressing into her. Licking his lips, his eyes kept bouncing between her mouth and eyes. With one hand still in her hair, the other rubbed up her stomach toward her breast.

  “So,” he whispered. His fingers began to flick over her hard nipple, which was protruding from under her shirt. “I guess I’ll see you Tuesday night then.”

  He continued to hold her down by her hair, stroking her nipple.

  “What?” she said in a breathy si
gh, her eyes fighting to stay open in her sexual haze.

  He rolled her nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger. “I said, I guess I’ll see you Tuesday night then.” He leaned down and kissed her neck.

  “Uh, huh,” she said, her head lolled back giving him better access, all while he continued to pluck at her nipple.

  He sucked at her throat, then nuzzled behind her ear and bit softly. “I’ll pick you up at the Institute. I have a meeting there in the afternoon. We can leave after that.”

  Her mind was sluggish, as if it were trying to trudge through mud.

  “Uh, huh,” she said, her mind still not focusing on the conversation at hand.

  He leaned back a little, removed his hand from her breast, and cupped her chin. His eyes were hot and smiling, with attractive crinkling bracketing his warm green eyes. “Wear something nice.” Pause. “Preferably something that slips off easily.”

  She slapped at him, then pushed at him playfully. He continued to hold her down for another moment. “And wear a pair of your ‘fuck me’ shoes.”

  “Jeremy!” she said, blushing.

  He got up smiling, and helped her stand. “Where’s your phone?”

  “Why?”

  “I want to program my number into it.”

  “Oh.” She walked over to the dining table and retrieved it, taking it back to him. She felt slap happy, but tried to remain calm.

  While he did that, she began to clean up the pizza and wine glasses. Upon returning from the kitchen, he gave her back the phone, then held her hand, and walked to the door.

  “Have a good night tomorrow night.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What time is graduation over?”

  “They’re usually over by five. Then we have some appetizers with the families and faculty.”

  He nodded. “And what time are you meeting Ayanna for drinks?”