I was slow to move my head back and look at her. Her green eyes glowed, even in the low lighting. They were amused and curious more than accusatory.
“Why would you ask that?” The notion was crazy. I’d never called Logan or Megan anything other than the people I occasionally slept with. Boyfriend? I hadn’t had one of those since the summer I’d spent tramping in Europe when I was eighteen.
“Because I got a call from Logan.” Her palms slid from my face to my shoulder, down my ribs to squeeze my waist then loosely circle around my back. “He said a guy came to the studio and threatened him to stay away from you.”
I stopped moving, wishing I wasn’t as in the clouds as I was so I could grasp what she was saying. “What guy? Someone threatened Logan?”
“Yeah.” She pressed on my lower back, dragging me closer so our bodies were flush. “A big, big guy with an accent. He told Logan he wasn’t allowed to even perceive you anymore.”
Her words snagged around my heart like ivy on a brick wall, taking root in a place that should be impossible. She could be talking about only one person.
“That’s my bodyguard.”
“Oh.” She giggled, her face so close to mine, I breathed in her amusement. “That makes more sense than a boyfriend. That’s not something you do.”
“No.” I shook my head and let my sweaty hair slap my cheeks. “That’s not something I do.”
Her hands dropped down to my butt for a moment, then back up. “I should probably go back to my group.”
“Me too.” I took a step back, but she still had a firm hold on me.
Her lips curved teasingly, tongue darting out to taste the top one. “Next time I’m in town, I’ll call. I need more Iris in my life.”
She let me go, drifting away through the crowd. I watched until she disappeared, then I spun in a tight circle, brushing my hands down my sleek dress where hers had just been. I didn’t miss her, but I missed being touched in that way.
Without reservation.
Owned.
Desired.
I opened my eyes to find an angry storm staring back at me.
Ronan Walsh had arrived, and he did not look pleased. Not at all.