We stay at the beach forever.

The drive home is quiet, but it's not the quiet of earlier. The air isn't heavy or still or stifling.

It's comfortable.

Calm.

It's weird. I've never wanted to lean on someone. To share anything that guts me.

But with Iris…

I trust her.

I want her around.

I want to tell her things. To tell her everything.

After I park, we stumble-kiss our way to my apartment. It isn't the tear your clothes off heat of earlier. It isn't that I want to watch her come—I do. Fuck, how I do.

But it's deeper than that.

I lock the apartment door and toss my keys on the dining table.

She pulls my leather jacket tighter as she steps backward. Her eyes go to the floor. Her expression gets shy. Like this is the first time.

In a way, it is.

This isn't a fuck anymore.

We aren't having fun anymore.

Shit is real now.

Serious.

Intimate.

I motion to the kitchen. "You need anything?"

"Water."

I nod, pour two glasses, bring one to her.

She brings it to her lips and takes a thirsty sip. Her throat quivers as she swallows. Her eyes stay on the floor.

She finishes fast, hands the cup back over, and moves toward the bedroom.

I follow suit. Move through the open door.

She's sitting on the bed, her palms pressed against her thighs, my jacket lying behind her.

I give her a long once-over. Something is different. Wrong.

She looks up at me. Her lips part. There's something on the tip of her tongue, but she swallows it down.

"You okay?" I ask.

She stares back at me like it's the most complicated question she's ever heard. "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

Her eyes fix on me. "Maybe."

"Anything I can do?"

Her voice drops to something low and needy. "Fuck me."

It's a weird request.

But I can't exactly complain.

I sit on the bed next to her. "That's really what you want?"

She climbs into my lap, wraps one arm around my waist, slides the other into my hair. "That's everything I want."

Her lips brush mine. It's soft. Then hard.

My tongue slides into her mouth. Dances with hers.

My need pours into her. This is such a fucked-up mess. I'm pathetic and cold-hearted in equal measure.

But she isn't running for the hills. She's here.

She's mine.

Fuck, she's really mine.

I slide my hand into her hair.

She does away with my t-shirt then climbs onto the bed. She falls onto her back and presses her knees together.

Her blue eyes meet mine. They promise the fucking world.

For once, I want that.

I want everything she can give me.

I nod to the bedside table.

She reaches for it, pulls the drawer open, pulls out a condom. She stares back into my eyes as she pulls her dress over her head.

My fingertips skim her ankles. The inside of her knees. Her inner thighs.

They curl into the straps of her panties.

Her eyelids flutter closed. Her breath catches in her throat. "Please."

Slowly, I roll her panties to her ankles.

I drag my lips up the inside of her calf. The inside of her thigh.

Her fingers curl into my hair. Her hips lift to meet me.

I pin her thighs to the bed and bring my lips to her. No teasing today. I need all of her. Her pleasure, her satisfaction, her trust.

She bucks against my lips as I lick her up and down.

She tastes so fucking good.

I focus on the spot where she needs me most and I flick my tongue against her.

She groans. "Walker." Her voice is needy. Breathless. Like she'll never get enough.

Fuck knows I won't.

I hold her in place as I lick her.

Her thighs shake.

Her groans fill the room.

Her nails dig into my shoulder, a desperate plea for more, for me, for everything.

I want everything.

I want to give her everything.

It's fucking weird.

But fucking amazing too.

I look up at her, watch pleasure spill over her expression, then I turn every bit on my attention to tasting her.

A few more flicks of my tongue and she's shuddering.

Shaking.

Tugging at my hair.

There.

She groans my name as she comes.

I lick her through her orgasm then I drag my lips up her pelvis, stomach, chest, neck.

She looks up at me with every bit of trust in the world.

I bring my lips to hers.

Her tongue slides into my mouth.

She tears the wrapper and slides the condom over my cock.

I lower my body onto hers.

She wraps her legs around my waist.

There.

My tip strains against her.

Then it's one inch at a time.

Fuck. She feels good. Mine.

It's the only thing in my head.

Iris is mine.

She trusts me. Needs me. Wants me.

Not the carefree guy I convince everyone else I am.

Me.

I kiss her harder.

She holds my head against hers, rocks her hips to meet me.

We move together, groan together, breathe together.

We stay locked like that for ages.

Until she's there, groaning against my lips as she comes.

Then I'm there, digging my fingers into her skin, pulling her closer, pumping deeper.

I groan her name as I come.

My cock pulses. Pleasure floods my body. But it's more than satisfaction.

It's everything.

She's everything.

And this is everything.