Iris Kelly Doesn't Date (Bright Falls, #3)(48)

Stevie’s eyes followed her own fingers, drifting down Iris’s neck, thumbs swiping over her collarbone, mouth open just a little. Iris could hear Stevie’s breathing go ragged. She had to clench her legs together because . . . fuck, she was getting turned on, that telltale thrum blooming between her thighs.

“Maybe you should kiss me,” she said, her own breathing a little jagged too. “Or not. Whatever you want.”

Stevie nodded, her eyes drifting to Iris’s mouth. She only hesitated a moment before she leaned in, taking Iris’s lower lip between hers in a way that made Iris want to groan.

She didn’t.

But it was a goddamn feat to hold it in, because lack of confidence or not, Stevie was a fucking amazing kisser.

Stevie turned her head, her tongue dipping into Iris’s mouth like a tease before retreating again, before her teeth tugged on Iris’s lip and then swept over Iris’s own tongue again.

Fucking hell.

“Can I touch you too?” Iris asked, because Jesus, she had to do something.

“Yeah,” Stevie said against her mouth, then kissed her again, a wild but slow dance of tongue and teeth Iris was pretty sure she’d never experienced before.

Iris fisted her hands at Stevie’s hips, desperate to pull them closer. She didn’t though. She forced herself still as Stevie’s fingers drifted down her arms again, then played at the hem of her T-shirt.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Iris said, her voice raspy as Stevie’s mouth slid to her ear. “I’m good to go.”

A little too good, but whatever. Iris’s thoughts clouded, her hips undulating ever so slightly against Stevie’s. She needed to get a goddamn grip, but before she could, Stevie tugged on Iris’s shirt, lifting it so Iris had to let go of Stevie and raise her arms. The fabric slid over her skin, making her shiver as the cool air hit her stomach and chest.

Stevie dropped the shirt on the floor and stepped back a little. “I remember this,” she whispered.

“What?”

“How fucking gorgeous you are.”

Her eyes roamed over Iris’s body, pausing not only at her breasts in her pink cotton bra, but her neck and stomach and hips as well. It made Iris feel incredibly seen and vulnerable and . . . she wasn’t sure she liked it.

“Okay,” she said, forcing her head back in this game. “What’s next?”

Stevie looked down at her own tank top, her mouth pink and a little swollen from kissing. “I . . . I remember this too. That night, I wasn’t wearing a bra and I think that’s part of what made me spiral. Like, just automatic exposure.”

“Well, I’ve already seen your tits, as you pointed out earlier.”

“Yeah, but that was an accident. This is . . .”

“Not an accident.”

“Yeah.”

“So what would help you here? Or we can stop.”

Stevie shook her head. “I don’t think I want to stop.”

“Okay,” Iris said softly. “Take your time. You’re in control. You call the shots.”

Stevie looked down for a few seconds, but then stepped closer to Iris again, hand circling her waist. Iris suppressed a shiver, but her own hands went to Stevie’s forearms, pulling their bodies together even tighter. Stevie kissed her again, once . . . twice . . . before her fingers drifted to Iris’s bra’s clasp.

“Is this okay?” Stevie asked.

And goddammit, it was more than okay. Iris nodded, then said “Yes” out loud. Stevie unhooked the bra and this time, Iris couldn’t hold back a sigh as the straps slid down her arms. She dropped her hands and the garment fell to the floor, her breasts swaying freely.

“Shit,” Stevie said. She held Iris by the waist, her thumbs swiping at her hips.

“Is that a good expletive or . . .”

“It’s good,” Stevie said, lifting her eyes to Iris’s. “You’re a fucking goddess.”

Iris laughed, feeling suddenly shy. “No. I’m just me. Remember that, okay? Whoever you do this with for real is just a person, exactly like you.”

Stevie nodded then kissed her again. It was a sweet kiss this time, tender, and Iris had to resist the urge to turn it hard. Soon, though, Stevie did that for herself, her mouth going hungry, tiny moans slipping from her throat. She reached down to her tank’s hem and lifted, all in one motion, whipping it over her head as though tearing off a Band-Aid.

She stood there for a second, her eyes closed, breathing heavily. Iris reached out and touched her waist gently but went no further.

“You’re beautiful, Stevie,” she said, and she was. There was a tiny black heart tattoo at the base of her throat Iris hadn’t noticed before, delicate and understated. Her breasts were smaller than Iris’s, it was true, but they were lovely—creamy and pert, with perfect pink nipples Iris couldn’t help but visualize sucking into her mouth.

Stevie’s eyes popped open, and she pulled Iris closer . . . closer. When their breasts touched, both women let out a low moan, Iris’s breathing instantly harsh and ragged again. She was fucking soaked, and her head was getting increasingly fuzzy again. Stevie touched their foreheads together, both of their hips pressing, seeking.

Stevie slotted her leg between Iris’s and Iris moaned again. Loudly, with an oh god flowing from her mouth, because fuck, it felt good, so goddamn good, and moaning was what she would do if this were all real.