The shower turns off.
I cinch my towel a little tighter. It's strange how shy I feel. Twenty minutes ago, I was spread out on the bed, savoring the need in Walker's eyes.
Now, I'm scared we'll have nothing to say to each other.
Not that I want to talk.
We could not talk again.
Well… I'm not sure I can handle not talking again.
My thighs are spent. From the hike and from being wrapped around him.
Hell, my entire body is spent.
It feels good. Painful, but good. There's something about losing myself in movement, something I need more of.
Not just sex. Hiking, yoga, swimming, even these surf lessons Walker keeps promising.
That's something I love. Something I know I want.
I'm Iris Avery and I'm more than a recovering addict. I'm a PhD candidate in psychology and I love purple, coffee, and exercise.
I move into the kitchen, grab a glass, fill it with water, and drink it the way I used to drink cheap vodka—like I need all of it, right now.
Booze was never my thing, but it did the trick when I was lacking alternatives.
Walker steps into the main room in black boxers—only black boxers.
He's yummy as all hell.
But this is still weird.
I don't know what to say to him. Or why things only make sense when we're naked. Or why I'm so desperate to learn the real reason why he's cagey about his sister.
The same one who was staying over the other night?
There's a story there.
I shouldn't want it.
But I do.
I want to know the guy behind the carefree smile. I want to know why his dark eyes turn down. Why he frowns when he thinks I'm not looking.
I'm not willing to share my secrets. I can't ask for his.
I shouldn't even want his.
"Here." He moves into his bedroom. A few moments later, he returns with a pair of boxers and a Metallica t-shirt.
I shake my head.
"You don't like metal?"
"No. But I don't see the relevance."
He smiles. "Fuck off."