Page 122 of Iris
I wasn’t thinking. That was the problem. I was only thinking with my dick.
A growl rumbles in my throat. “She goes back as soon as it’s safe to do so.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
Iris
My skin radiates heat as I wobble down the stairs in the dress that’s so bland and not me it’s got to be something for show because it isn’t something that in any way fits my image of Freya.
This is the type of dress Mom would love to dress me in for day-to-day business if she had her way. Not jeans or my skirts or even my style of dress, but something generic.
Something that says blend in and good girl, all in one.
Of course, Mom wouldn’t even dress me in or any of us in something like this for an afternoon out or a picnic that’s part of the Season, she’d want something more flattering and stylish.
She has taste.
Just not my taste.
I grip the door frame, trying to reset my equilibrium. It has nothing to do with the dress and everything to do with Killian in the office.
The things he said, hinted at, turn me inside out and make that newly awaked sexual beast in me salivate.
Maybe it’s the dregs of heat, but I doubt it. These men were undoing parts of me since the moment Mr. Scarsby first danced with me. Just the thought of that makes my stomach dip and soar.
I look at the door, but the two men are talking and then Emmie calls out. “Icy, lookit what me and Freya did!”
My phone buzzes as I veer toward the little girl, and I glance at the message.
Mari
Head’s up, I hope you’re out of heat and finished…everything.
Mari’s text makes my cheeks burn. Of course she knows I never made it to Pen’s. I’m going to owe her big time after this.
Mari
You need to get to Penrith’s now. Heath’s on the warpath with you not being home.
Heath can go and be an old man elsewhere.
Mari
Easy for you to say when you’re not home. I’m doing my best, but Mom wants to see you.
Guilt eats at me with that.
Just keep everyone calm. Be home tonight.
She sends a little saluting emoji, and I roll my eyes.
It’s easier than letting everything she said sink right down. Just like it’s easier to pretend I’m home, where I belong.
No, that’s not right. I want to pretend I’ve finally found my place. I take a breath and acknowledge the atmosphere. Cool, unreadable, a sense of walls.
Except, of course, from the sweetest kid, Emmie, who might have a touch of Rue about her, a much younger Rue.
