Iris Kelly Doesn't Date (Bright Falls, #3)(87)

Stevie held her like that, tongue exploring Iris’s, her mouth sliding to Iris’s ear, her neck, all the while holding her face like Iris was some kind of treasure Stevie had been searching for and had finally, finally found.

Iris breathed her in, all summer nights and grass, slid her hands under her navy T-shirt, fingertips gliding over her soft skin. God, she wanted this woman. Wanted all of her, and she didn’t know what that meant, or how she’d face the fear that she knew was still lying dormant in her heart.

All she knew was that she couldn’t say no.

She didn’t want to.

For the first time in over a year, maybe even since Grant or before—maybe for the first time in her life—she wanted to say yes, to everything, every word and every question and every quiet look.

Yes, yes, yes.

“Stevie,” she said against Stevie’s mouth.

“Yeah,” Stevie said, her breath beautifully labored.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything,” Stevie said, pressing a kiss to Iris’s temple. “Ask me anything.”

“Will you take me home?” Iris framed Stevie’s face in her hands, tucked a curl behind her ear. “Take me home, Stevie Scott, and take me to bed.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE





IT TOOK THEM forever to get back to Iris’s apartment.

Stevie had never experienced a panic attack caused from sheer happiness, but she was pretty sure she was on the verge. She could barely breathe as they rushed through the fair and onto Bright Falls’ cobbled sidewalks, and she kept getting distracted by Iris’s scent, her laughter, the way she tasted when Stevie pulled her into the alley between the bakery and the post office, kissing her against the brick wall until they were both moaning.

“We need a bed,” Iris panted into her mouth.

“I’m working on it,” Stevie said, then kissed her again, hips pressing into hers, Iris’s finger digging into Stevie’s shoulders.

“Are you though?” Iris said, laughing.

“I mean, you’re making it really hard to focus.”

“I’m just a girl standing in front of another girl, asking her to fuck her senseless.”

“Exactly,” Stevie said, burying her face in Iris’s neck. “I can barely walk just thinking about it.”

Then Iris bit Stevie’s earlobe, and Stevie’s entire body broke out in goose bumps.

“Not helping,” she said.

Iris grinned evilly and Stevie pulled them back onto the street, not slowing down, not even glancing Iris’s way until they were inside Iris’s building and climbing the stairs to her unit.

But then there was the door to contend with, and Stevie couldn’t resist pressing her body against Iris’s back as she dug into her bag for her keys, sliding her hands around her hips and down to that delicious warmth between her legs.

“Fuck,” Iris said, ass pushing against Stevie’s thighs. She finally got the key in the door and was in the process of turning the lock when Stevie remembered.

“Oh shit,” she said, covering Iris’s hand on the doorknob with her own.

“What’s wrong?” Iris asked, then laughed. “I need to get you inside right the hell now.”

“Okay, yes, but . . .” Stevie said. “I sort of forgot that I had something delivered to your apartment this afternoon when you were writing at the coffee shop.”

Iris froze, turned to look at Stevie over her shoulder. “For real?”

Stevie just grinned. “Wooing, remember?”

Iris’s eyes searched hers, her expression nothing less than wondrous. She leaned in and kissed Stevie softly. “I love it.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet,” Stevie said.

“I don’t care. I still love it.”

Stevie kissed her, then let her open the door. They stepped into Iris’s dimly lit apartment, and the smell hit them first.

Sweet and organic. Earthy.

“Oh my god,” Iris said, clicking on the lamp she had on the console table in the entryway for more light.

Color exploded throughout the living room and kitchen, at least ten Mason jars full of purple flowers covering the space.

“Purple bearded irises,” Iris said, picking up a jar and pressing her face into the flowers. “How did you know these are my favorite?”

Stevie shrugged. “Lucky guess? They’re all over your planners. Also, the name. I figured you’d love the name.”

Iris laughed, plucking a single blossom from the jar and twirling it in her fingers. “I do. Plus, they look like vulvas, which I’m all about.”

Stevie threw her head back and laughed. “You are a true romantic, Iris Kelly.”

“Look at them!” Iris thrust a flower toward her. “You can’t deny they look like puss—”

“Okay, flower girl,” Stevie said, taking the iris from her and holding it to her nose. Then she tucked it behind Iris’s ear and pulled her close. “Full disclosure, Claire might have let the florist in.”

Iris pressed her mouth flat, but Stevie could tell she was fighting a smile. “Claire.”

“She’s a romantic like me.”

Iris shook her head, but she pulled Stevie closer. “I love this surprise.” Her breath fluttered against Stevie’s mouth.