“You are. Gave my winery a horrible review and now I hate you.”
“But you also find me ridiculously attractive, and we ran into each other at another winery’s opening. Your best friend’s.”
“And my friend thinks we really need to hate fuck each other and get it out of our systems,” Iris said.
“Except I don’t hate you. Secretly, I want to wine and dine you,” Stevie said, lacing their free hands together and holding them right above her heart. She spun Iris around and pressed closer.
“Shit,” Iris said, her voice a little shaky. She cleared her throat. “How are you so good at this?”
Stevie shrugged. “Am I?”
“Yes, extremely.”
“I don’t know.” Stevie sighed, bit her lower lip. “I’ve never had a day without anxiety, which meant making friends when I was a kid was hard. I think that sort of made me want the emotional parts of a relationship even more. Don’t get me wrong, feelings are still scary, but it’s like a language that I understand. Fear. Happiness. Hope. Despair. Anger. I get what those things are, what they mean. But the physical stuff, using my body to talk when my body feels constantly at war with my brain . . . I might as well try to communicate with people on another planet.”
Iris shook her head. “God, it’s the total opposite for me.”
“That’s actually what I love most about romances,” Stevie went on. “The sex scenes are hot, sure, but it’s that HEA that makes me keep reading, you know? The feeling of finding someone who loves you for exactly who you are. No more, no less.”
Iris snorted. “Have you ever found that person in real life? Because I sure as hell haven’t.”
Stevie frowned and was silent for a few seconds. “No,” she said finally. “I guess I haven’t.”
They continued to sway to the music, and Stevie pressed their foreheads together. Iris knew it was a move, a romantic gesture, but in the moment, Stevie’s lashes literally fluttering against her cheeks, Iris’s whole body went soft and warm. She opened her eyes to find Stevie watching her, the brown so dark in the dim light, Iris found herself writing a line in her head.
. . . the kind of eyes you could get lost in, drown in, and never even try to take a breath.
Jesus, that was some romantic bullshit right there. Which meant this was working—Iris’s romance writer gears were starting to turn in a rusty circle.
But as she and Stevie kept moving, their eyes locked on each other, Stevie’s hand drifting up and down Iris’s back, the less . . . fake it all felt.
Iris shook herself, forcing her mind to focus on their task and put some space between them. “Okay, romantic achievement unlocked.”
Stevie smiled. “Good.”
Her voice was way too fucking soft.
“Your turn,” Iris said firmly and shifted both of her hands to Stevie’s waist.
Stevie went a little rigid. “Oh. Shit. Now?”
“Now,” Iris said. She wasn’t sure she could take much more languid swaying and lowered lashes before something inside her shut down. She felt a bit woozy, like she’d eaten a weed gummy on an empty stomach. Plus, she’d gotten a line, a flash of that elusive romantic spark. She didn’t want to press her luck.
“Last time we did this, where did you shut down?” she asked Stevie.
“Um . . .” Stevie rubbed her forehead, blew out a long breath.
Iris squeezed her hips in reassurance. “You can do this. Think with your body, not your mind.”
“Is that what you do? When you hook up with someone?”
Iris nodded. “Just cut the two off from each other.”
“And that really works?”
Iris hesitated, something in her chest tugging slightly, but she shook it off. “Totally.”
“Um, yeah, okay.” Stevie took a deep breath. “Last time, it was after you took off your shirt. I just . . . freaked out at the idea of taking mine off too.”
“Okay, we can work with that. Do you want me to take off my shirt?”
Stevie’s laugh was shaky. “I mean, are you okay doing that?”
“I’m fully okay with that, but I also don’t want to come across as some weird creeper talking you into stuff. It’s your call.”
“You’re not a creeper. This was my idea.”
Iris nodded, then dropped her hands from Stevie’s waist and took a step back, tapping her chin. “I actually think it might help if you took control over this whole thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you take off my shirt. At your pace.”
At first, Iris could tell Stevie inwardly recoiled, her entire body tightening, but then she released a long breath.
“That actually makes sense,” she said. “If I’m in control, then . . . well, I’m in control.”
“Exactly.”
“And I have your consent?”
Iris smiled. “Enthusiastic consent.”
Stevie nodded, then just stood there for a few seconds, hands on her hips.
“Maybe start with an easier touch,” Iris said. “My arms or shoulders or something.”
“Yeah. Yeah, good idea.” Stevie took a step closer to Iris, closed her fingers around Iris’s wrists. She slowly trailed her hands up . . . up . . . all the way to Iris’s neck. Her touch was soft and . . . shit, really nice. Goose bumps erupted over Iris’s skin, but she didn’t call attention to them. She didn’t close her eyes or sigh like she wanted to—she didn’t want to freak Stevie out too much here—instead, she kept her face impassive, yet inviting. Open, but mostly expressionless.
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.