His hands go to his jeans. He undoes the button.
My brow furrows. "What the—"
He laughs. "Give me a second." He turns and pulls his jeans down his hip. Then his boxers.
There's a flash of something on his hip. Purple, green, black. But his shirt is in the way.
Slowly, he lifts his shirt.
My eyes go wide.
My jaw hits the floor.
That's… he… I…
"I've never seen you speechless." His voice is confident. Cocky even. But there's more to it. Pride. Affection. Everything.
"I, you, uh… Can I?"
"Yeah."
I trace the black lines. They're beautiful. Perfect. The flower is in full bloom, unfurling, inviting everyone.
A purple iris.
"I… I…" I trace the outline again. His skin is soft and he's so warm. So close. So mine.
He's really mine.
This means he's mine.
I trace it again and again. "You…"
He nods. "I…"
"But…"
"I told you, when I want something, I take it."
"But you didn't have to." I stare into his dark eyes. "You already have me."
He slides his arms around my waist. "Can't be too careful."
"But, I, uh… I thought you… you didn't trust me."
"I didn't know if I could."
"But you… I thought you didn't want to be with an addict."
"I didn't." He brushes my hair behind my ear. "I kept trying to find a way to convince myself to hate you. But I couldn't. I kept thinking of that sad, scared girl desperate for comfort. I kept thinking of the way you looked at me that day we went surfing."
"I wanted to tell you."
"I know. And I stopped you. I knew it was something big, and I stopped you."
I nod.
"I wanted to believe there was nothing ugly in your past. That you didn't have any baggage or ugly parts or secrets. I wanted to believe it didn't matter. That I was over everything with Bree. But I wasn't. I'm not. I'm not gonna lie to you, Iris. It's gonna be hard for me at first. I'm gonna be terrified you'll slip."