Enticing Iris

by Cherrie Lynn

  WEARING A FRESH PAIR of pajamas with her hair wrapped in a towel, Iris walked over to fish her cell phone from beneath the covers and frowned at several text messages from Heidi.

  Are you sick now?

  Hello?

  Just have the boys call when you feel better or whatever.

  I’m not in any mood to deal with Eli’s shit right now, just so you know.

  He’s already pissed off Nic.

  “Whatever,” she muttered to herself, thumbing the app closed without replying. These people couldn’t conduct themselves like adults for a few hours while she slept off her stomach virus? It was sad and juvenile and she was so freaking over it.

  She lay in bed for a little while, her shower having made her tired, then got up to blow dry her hair and try to rejoin the world of the living.

  Three sets of eyes swung in her direction as she walked into the living room. “Iris! You’re better,” Dylan said.

  “A little bit,” she told him cheerily, holding their dad’s gaze long enough that he unfolded himself from the couch and followed her into the kitchen. She grabbed a cold water out of the fridge and chugged it.

  “What’s up?” he asked once she was done.

  Do not think about the dream. “What happened while I was out?”

  A line appeared between his dark brows. “Huh?”

  Iris kept her voice low so the kids wouldn’t hear. “I had Heidi blowing up my text messages while I was asleep. She said you pissed Nic off.”

  Eli stared blankly at her for a good five seconds and then burst out laughing, almost startling her. “What a little bitch.”

  Iris sighed. “Yeah, um, to whom are you referring?”

  “I was actually referring to Nic, but take your pick. I talked to him for all of ten seconds, and he apparently got so offended he had to run to Heidi to tattle on me.”

  “Why in the world did you talk to Nic?”

  “Because my kids wanted to talk to their fucking mother, Iris, but she won’t answer her fucking phone when I call her. She gets the fuckboy to make excuses for her.”

  Iris chewed at her bottom lip, then took another swig of water while she digested this information and contemplated what to tell him. She settled for the truth. “Well, she doesn’t want to talk to you. She told me she’ll talk to the boys when I feel better.”

  “You know what? That’s her goddamn loss.”

  “I’m inclined to agree, but it’s them you have to think about.”

  His outrage seemed to dial back, his body relaxing somewhat. He leaned against the counter, that troubled line still etched in his brow. Iris felt for him. She really did. “Yeah. I know.”

  “Okay, then. I was only wondering what crisis occurred while I was dead to the world. I’ll take care of everything, all right?” She reached out and put a hand on his arm, feeling the warm solidity of muscle through his T-shirt sleeve. Unwise, yes. Inappropriate, probably. The contact brought all those lurid images back to her in a rush. But he looked like he was hurting and she couldn’t stop herself. “Don’t worry.”

  When he reached up and took her hand from his arm, holding it gently, Iris’s knees—in their already weakened state—nearly buckled completely. She couldn’t have looked away from the brilliant emerald hue of his eyes right then if an elephant had ridden by her on a unicycle juggling chainsaws.

  “I’m sorry you seem to get caught in the middle of all this. That isn’t your job.”

  “No,” she said softly. “It isn’t.”

  His fingers toyed idly with hers, making her temperature rise again. “I’m surprised you hang with it.”

  Only then did she manage to look away, her eyes drawn over the separating bar to the living room, where two precious boys were lying on the floor laughing at the movie, paying them no mind. “They’re worth it,” she said, smiling. When she turned back to Eli, the look she found on his face stole her breath, made her weaker. If any more strength drained from her body, he would have to carry her to bed. Again.

  The one and only time a man had ever carried her to bed, and it had to be because she’d felt like death was breathing down her neck.

  “Thanks for taking such good care of us,” he said. Us? Not them, but us? He included himself in that?

  “Thanks for taking care of me,” she said shyly. He was so tall next to her, she felt awkward; if she wasn’t looking up into his eyes, then she was staring at his chest. Which was weird. So she was forced to gaze up at him to avoid weirdness. He was too close and he smelled too good. Her mind was faltering. What if this man ever tried to kiss her? She would literally die. But his lips were right there, and they were so full. So perfect. Tingles skittered beneath her flesh, little electric currents running all over her body.

  “Oh yeah,” he said suddenly, stepping back and releasing her from his hold and his spell. She blinked several times, everything suddenly too bright and cold and loud after the warm little cocoon she’d been wrapped in. As if nothing at all had just transpired between them—and it hadn’t, not really, she was simply losing it—he pulled open the nearby refrigerator door and pulled out a tray of fresh fruit. “I know how you probably don’t feel like eating much, but in case you wanted something light, I got this for you.”

  Iris smiled. He remembered what she liked. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  He popped open the clear lid and plucked out a fat, red strawberry. “Interested?”

  Her hollow stomach gave a little pang. “I want that.” He looked deliciously devilish right then, dark and sinister and holding the promise of succulent sweetness toward her. Or would it be tart and unripe? She liked them best a little in between, could already taste it on the dryness of her parched tongue. Instead of taking it from him, however, she stepped forward, dipped her head, and took a bite while he still held it.

  Eli never took his eyes off her and, even over the boys’ cackling, she heard his breath hitch.

  Perfect sweetness exploded in her mouth, only a tinge of acidity, all the goodness of summer and life itself. “Mmm,” she groaned dreamily, closing her eyes as she chewed. “That’s heavenly. Probably even more so since I haven’t eaten in the last twenty-four hours.”

  When she swallowed and opened her eyes at last, he was staring with an intensity that burned straight to her soul, among other places. Then it was her turn to watch as he brought the ripe red berry to his own mouth, his lips touching where hers had only moments ago. There was something wildly erotic about watching him do that, she thought as he took his own bite. But what did she know about erotic? And what the heck was she even doing? Her fever must have reached such critical heights that it had burned something away in her brain.

  She didn’t know what she was doing, but she liked it.

  Twenty-One

  Elijah Vance couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a raging hard-on when there wasn’t a naked woman in the vicinity. Watching Iris’s pale pink lips close around that tender fruit had brought his cock surging to life faster than the last tongue that had stroked it . . . which obviously had been far too fucking long ago, if this was the situation.

  Tearing himself away from the sight of her, he tossed the leafy strawberry top in the trash and rubbed his palms on his jeans, looking anywhere but at her lest the problem grow more prominent. His zipper was already a dull agony pressing into his rigid length.

  “I probably should get them to bed,” he said, hearing the rasp in his own words. She opened her mouth, surely about to offer to do it herself, but he waved her to silence. “I got it. Eat all this you want and drink a lot of water. Then go get some more rest. I’m sure you need it. I’ll crash on the couch in case you need anything.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be okay now.”

  “I’ll be there anyway.”

  “All right,” she said softly, and he caught himself looking into her sky-blue eyes again despite himself. As he watched, the pupils seemed to expand, to draw him in deeper. He thought of a black hole, those dense void
s floating in space where gravity was so strong even light had no hope of escape. If he let this go on . . . Fuck.

  He wanted this woman. Wanted her with a greed he hadn’t felt since Heidi.

  He knew all too well where that had gotten him, didn’t he?

  But Iris wasn’t Heidi—he would stake his life on that much. In the short time he’d known her, she’d already exhibited more caring for the people around her than Heidi had in the entirety of their relationship.

  “I do need to make sure they talk to their mom,” she said, a tentative note in her voice as if she was nervous about bringing it up. He had to give her a break on that. Try to conduct himself a bit better.

  When in the fuck had he ever been worried about conduct? “Sure,” he forced himself to say, instead of the bitter comment that was churning within, about not giving a damn if Heidi got to talk to the boys or not. Iris was right, it wasn’t about her. It wasn’t about him either. It was only about them. “You can go do that.”

  She rounded up Dylan and Seger and took them into her bedroom, closing the door for privacy. The moment it clicked shut, Eli limped to the other bedroom and the bathroom beyond, wincing from the bite of his jeans against his erection. Unless he wanted to get waylaid by a raging case of blue balls, he would have to take matters into his own hands. Cold showers never fucking worked for him, and with Iris’s hot little body sleeping only on the other side of a wall from him, there would be no hope of rest unless he handled this situation.

  As he stepped under the hot spray and closed the shower door, he thought he was a fine fucking example of a rock star . . . having to rub one out in the shower to keep from nailing the nanny. A failed marriage and kids had turned him soft.

  Well, he thought, groaning as his soapy fist closed around his straining cock, only in some ways.

  Iris finally reclaimed her phone from Seger and shooed the boys from the bedroom when Heidi told her she wanted to have a private word. Dreading what she was about to hear, she closed the door after they departed and settled on the bed again, holding the phone up so she could see Heidi’s face. Her boss had a pinched look about her, but then she hadn’t seemed very happy throughout the entire call.

  “You don’t look so good,” Heidi observed, giving a toss of her luxurious, salon-fresh tresses. She, of course, looked . . . well, fresh from the salon, as always.

  Gee, thanks. “I’m still not one hundred percent,” Iris said. “It was pretty brutal.”

  “The boys seem to be over it.”

  “Yeah. Nothing keeps them down for long.” She tried to keep her tone light, but Heidi’s eyes kept boring into hers, and it was making her squirm. Or maybe it was guilt. She had, after all, just shared a weirdly intimate moment with the woman’s ex-husband barely fifteen minutes ago. Not to mention that dream earlier.

  “Is Elijah there?”

  “He’s, um . . . Is he where? Here in the suite? Yes, he’s in the other bedroom. He was worried I was dying, I guess, so he stayed close in case I needed anything.” She laughed it off, but the sound came out brittle.

  “So you two are thick as thieves now, or what?”

  “Um, no, I wouldn’t say that.”

  “Iris, I didn’t send you on the road to make friends with him.”

  Iris hoped Eli wasn’t anywhere outside where he could hear this conversation. “I’m not. I know what I’m here for, but it’s really been a rough couple of days. We had to face it as a team.”

  “You’re not on his team. You’re on mine.”

  “Exactly what game are we playing, then?” She surprised herself when she said it, and Heidi’s eyebrows shot up. “Look, I’m on the kids’ team, Heidi. Dylan and Seger are the only team I’m concerned with. I’m taking the best care of them I know how. I can’t keep getting caught up in this drama. It’s driving me nuts.”

  “Driving you nuts? Is that what you said to me?”

  The two of them had had their share of disagreements. As the employee, Iris had always yielded. But this . . . she couldn’t abide these kids being in a tug-of-war between their parents. “I don’t mean to upset you. This has been stressful, to say the least, and then getting sick on top of it was the worst. But we’re all on the mend, and once we’re back on the road, things will go back to normal. I’m sure of it.”

  Heidi didn’t look convinced, a tightness around her lips. “Eli needs to get his own suite. All we need is the gossip sites and Ruin fansites to catch wind of you two shacking up. They follow his every step. Those people are relentless, Iris. You don’t know what we dealt with, and trust me, you don’t want to find out.”

  “I’ll tell him.” She wouldn’t, because Eli was going to do what he damn well pleased, which would certainly not include anything Heidi Vance ordered him to do. And what Heidi didn’t know wouldn’t piss her off. She lived thinking the paps were right outside her window at all times, and maybe she had a point. Maybe she planned to grill her own kids about it later. But they would have to take their chances. It wasn’t Iris’s place to tell the man to do anything.

  “Also, I did not care for the way you spoke to me just now. See that it doesn’t happen again.”

  Iris didn’t know what was wrong with her. Ordinarily she would jump to apologize, smooth things over, make Heidi happy. And she knew she would do so now as well—it could mean her job if she didn’t. But it took a moment to get her seething emotions under control. She forced the sweetest smile she could muster, hoping it looked genuine. “It won’t.”

  “You’ll get a few days off when the boys go to their grandparents’ house. I think you need them. You can de-stress then. I’ll get your plane ticket home.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Five or so minutes had elapsed after they’d hung up when Eli tapped on her door. “Come in.” It opened, and he peeked in.

  “I’m crashing on the sofa bed.”

  “Are the boys all tucked in?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. I doubt I’ll be able to sleep, since I was out all day.”

  He lingered for a moment, then finally stepped in and shut the door. He wore black pajama pants and no shirt, making her mouth run dry again. In her current dehydrated state, that couldn’t be good for her. His black hair was wet from his shower and, even from across the room, the clean scent of his soap reached her. He only stood there, looking at her.

  “What?” she finally ventured, quivering inside.

  “You aren’t going to tell me?”

  Dread began to unfurl in her belly. “Tell you what?”

  “To get my own suite.”

  “I’m sorry you heard that,” she said quietly. “But no, I’m not. It isn’t my place to tell you what to do. Anything she has to say to you, she can tell you herself.”

  He crossed his densely inked arms over his chest, leaning back against the door. The weakness in her belly had nothing to do with the remnants of her virus. “What do you want me to do, Iris?”

  What was he asking her? Something about his tone, deep and dark and intimate, made her think he was offering more than simply sleeping outside her bedroom. “I . . . think I like knowing you’re here. If I need anything, I mean.”

  “Of course,” he agreed quickly, lightening somewhat. Iris pulled in a breath, finding the air thick and warm despite the air conditioning. “So I’ll be out here, then.”

  She nodded because she didn’t dare put words out there between them. She wasn’t sure what those words would be, what might take her over and speak her needs into reality. He opened the door, but before he left, he turned to her again. “Don’t let her get to you.”

  Yeah, if he’d heard the thing about the suite, then he’d heard Heidi’s remarks at the end. Iris picked at an errant thread on the bedspread, heart thudding dully. “I hate having conflict with her.”

  “I know. I was the same way for a few years. Then you come to realize that all you can have with her is conflict.”

  Something about those words chilled her, making her
think of her own future in Heidi’s employ. Before she could think of anything to say, he slipped outside. Iris collapsed across her bed, exhausted.

  He was there if she needed anything. That was what he’d said.

  He was there if she needed him was what he’d meant.

  It was going to be a long night.

  SHE DIDN’T KNOW JUST how long it was going to be.

  Tossing and turning, she stared at the ceiling, at her phone, at nothing in particular. She turned the TV on low, hoping to get interested in something that would take her mind off the man outside her door, but that was futile. Twice, she thought she heard the doorknob turn slightly, but the sound must’ve been her imagination. Or wishful thinking.

  Is that what she wished, truly? For that knob to turn, that door to open? To throw away all her hard work and dedication to these kids on a tumble through the sheets with their father? That’s what he was offering, she knew, but she couldn’t sleep with him. Beyond any moral work-related dilemmas, casual sex had never and would never be a part of her life. Flirting might be fun, but that was all it could ever be with him, and they had the rest of this tour to get through. She had to keep her head.

  She did for precisely five minutes, then flopped over onto her back with a heavy sigh. Was he asleep? Awake and fighting himself, thinking about her, uncomfortable on the sofa bed? He should be the one in the opulent bedroom, sprawled in the middle of this king-sized mattress. He was the celebrity. Yet here she was.

  Of course, he could be sleeping soundly, not having given her another single thought. It was probably ridiculous of her to think otherwise.

  But it was the same vicious cycle she was all too familiar with. When she had to think of sex—because Eli had her thinking of nothing else—she had to think of Jacob.

  Her former fiancé. He’d been handsome with his closely clipped brown hair and clear blue eyes, and he hadn’t failed to exhibit the charms she’d always thought were important. Opening doors for her, pulling her chair out in restaurants. Holding her hand. Telling her she was pretty. Telling her she was the one. He’d been everything she wanted in a potential mate, but her upbringing had been instilled deep, and her upbringing dictated that she wait until marriage to have sex.