Iris’s lungs seized up around the air filling them, but the next hard thud of her heart forced them into motion again. Everything within her dropped and shattered.

“Eli . . . don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

Her eyes filled with tears even as denial fought hard against them. He was so stoic, and she felt like she was unraveling. The strength it must have cost him to push those hateful words out of his throat . . . No matter what, she had to meet him there, from a place of courage. She drew a deep breath and tried to make sense of the chaotic thoughts his one statement had unleashed.

“Okay. Why do you think this? Did you get a paternity test?”

“No. I don’t want a test. I know it’s true, but once it’s in black and white, and the press or the courts get hold of that shit . . .” He blew out a breath, giving a vague gesture with one hand. “I lose him. And he’s mine. I didn’t make him, but I’ve been there from the time he first drew a breath. I didn’t make him, but he’s my son.”

It would explain so much. So, so much. Everything that Heidi held over his head. His willingness to give her her way. All to protect this awful secret that Iris couldn’t accept.

“I’m just trying to process,” she said after a silent moment. “If not yours, then whose?”

The look he gave her was full of seething hatred for the name he uttered. “He’s Nic’s, Iris. Look at him.”

This couldn’t be true. It simply couldn’t.

But he was going on, forcing her to hear these words she didn’t want to believe. “She was fucking him before we separated. Dylan was conceived while I was away from home on tour. When she went into what she claimed was early labor, I didn’t think anything of it. Then I caught her doctor outside her hospital room and said something about it, just checking to make sure he was good for being a few weeks premature. She informed me that I was mistaken, that he was actually overdue. I did the math. And did I ever feel like a fucking dumbass.”

Iris wanted to protest further, assure him that it had to be a misunderstanding, that the doctor had gotten her wires crossed, but he didn’t give her a chance.

“It’s partly my fault for not catching things sooner. I was hardly around to go to doctor appointments with her. I was there for Seger, but with Dylan, we’d put out a new album and I was doing a lot of press, and then we toured the world for damn near a year straight. It never seemed to bother her, but I guess that’s because she was never alone.”

She could only listen in pained silence as he went on, slowly but surely coming to the realization that he believed this without a doubt. This was real. “I remember holding him the night he was born, my mind going in a million fucking different directions. Thinking I was being paranoid. Trying to see something of myself in this baby when I couldn’t. Seger looked like me from the minute he came out. Dylan looked like his mom.

“But he opened his eyes and gazed up at me, really seemed to see me and study me like I was studying him. We just sat there, staring at each other. And I was fuckin’ gone over him. From that moment, I knew it didn’t matter, that he was mine even if I learned I didn’t have a damn thing to do with his being here. I promised him then that he would always be mine.”

“Did you confront her?”

“Not for a long time. I wanted to try to catch her out, but I never could. She was good at hiding it, I’ll give her that. Things got so bad that I finally left her, and she and Nic were suddenly all over the gossip sites like they had been together for years. I looked at him and took a good look at my kid. Didn’t take long to put two and two together. It’s subtle, but it’s there.”

She would have to take a good look, too. “But has she ever admitted it?”

He was a long time answering. “She finally admitted she didn’t know. But she didn’t do that until after the divorce was final, and only as a threat.”

“A threat?”

“All it would take is a paternity test to prove he belongs to Nic, and she could have me written out of Dylan’s life at any time.”

“Heidi wouldn’t dare do that. There would be too much blowback on her. She’s the bad guy here, don’t you see?”

“Yeah, I see. But I’m also not willing to put her to the test. Most importantly, I’m not willing to put my kid through it.”

“Do your parents know about this?”

“No. When we split up, my mom was . . . going through something. I didn’t want to over-burden her.”

She loved that he was willing to share his secrets with her, but not his mother’s, at least not yet. “I know about it. Your mom, I mean. She told me.”

The surprise was plain to see on his face. “She did?”

Iris nodded.

“She’s usually not very forthcoming about it.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “What else did she tell you?”

“Nothing, really. She did talk about your divorce a little. Said it really hurt you.”

The back of his head met the headboard with a light thud. “By the time we separated, it was a relief. To me, at least. It was the boys I was worried about. How she might try to keep them from me.”

Such dejection in his voice. What was she supposed to say to this? There was nothing to say, she supposed. There was nothing to do but hold him.

Iris snuggled as close as she could get to him, eyes fixed on one of his tattoos that bore Dylan’s name alongside Seger’s. Imprinted on his flesh and over his heart, even though he’d known the ugly truth from the day of Dylan’s birth.

She’d grown up in a home that was cold and austere and rigid, shunning the world beyond their walls. Her family had considered that moral. But never once had she looked at her parents’ faces and seen the love she saw on this man’s when he talked about his children.

For a long time they lay like that, Iris finding stability in the steady beat of his heart, the easy rhythm of his breathing. Amazing, that he remained so calm, that she had to take comfort from him to deal with this new, devastating knowledge.

“You know what bothers me about it more than anything else?” he said at last. There was more? How could she even begin to guess?  She tilted her face up toward his, dreading what she was about to hear.

“I can understand having to give your kids up for dire circumstances, whatever they might be. But Steele doesn’t have any reason to do it.”

“Nic knows, then?”

“Fuck yes, he knows. That’s why I don’t like seeing him around those boys. If he has so little regard for his own son that he can let me have him and raise him without a fight, without a word, then why does he deserve to play stepdad to him? Or Seger?”

Iris recalled the two men coming face to face in Heidi’s foyer, the tension, the wink Nic had given her once Eli moved on. What a smug asshole. But what about Heidi? All this time, making it seem as if Eli had been the one who stepped out on her, when all along . . .

Iris tightened her grip on him, detecting his animosity in the way his heart rate had picked up. Talking about Heidi, he’d scarcely cared. Talking about Nic’s rejection of Dylan was a different matter to him entirely.

“We already know how lucky you are,” she said, “but Dylan is so lucky to have you. So, so very lucky.”

“Thanks for saying so. I’d do anything for him. I’d die for that boy.”

“Then he is yours.”

“I know. But I also live knowing that could end at any second.”

Damn Heidi for this. “She always made it seem like it was you.”

He caught her meaning. “I was no saint when she and I got together. But neither was she. We both knew that going in. Once we committed, I never cheated on her, but she thought I did. I told her constantly that if I wanted to fuck a different woman every night, I wouldn’t have gotten married. But some bullshit thing would happen on tour, and it would get back to her, and she’d go off. I realized she grabbed on to those things to justify her own behavior. She still does it. For a while, I liked to think she couldn’t handle what she was doing to me, so she had to create falsehoods to sleep at night. But that isn’t it. She would sleep fine anyway. She only wanted something to throw in my face.”

On top of knowing all this, Iris had to face her own thought patterns, her own treatment of him from the beginning. Her own inclinations to stand up for Heidi when everyone else was running her down, everyone else who had damn good reasons to do so. How stupid she had been. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t even tell you all the things I’m sorry for.”

“Come here.” He pulled her down to his warm chest again and held her while she sniffled, his nose and mouth buried in her hair, his hands stroking her. All the while comforting her when she was one of the jerks in the situation. Heidi had turned her into a fool. “You didn’t know. You, Iris . . . you’re the kind of person I do want around my kids. One of the few good decisions Heidi ever made was choosing you.”

His words only made her cry harder. She didn’t deserve them. She didn’t deserve any of those words or any of these people. Him or his boys.

When he tilted her face up for his kiss, she accepted it with so much gratefulness she thought her heart couldn’t contain it all. That he wanted to have anything to do with her, after everything. Even though she relished the slow, sweet tease of his lips, she had to pull him deeper, needing the taste of his tongue in her mouth, the dizzying intoxication of it. He groaned, his hands on her tightening, and the kiss became something darker, hungrier. Urgent. When he lifted a hand to stroke the hair from her face, it shook.

And she wanted this so much. Wanted him. Where fear and guilt had festered before, there was only trust and need. Where there had once been clouds was clear blue sky.

His hand went to her breast, his thumb circling her nipple through her shirt, bringing it to an aching peak. She wanted his mouth there, wanted it everywhere all at once. Wanted his hands, wanted him. Everywhere.

“Eli,” she said, putting her hand on his, and he drew his mouth away, his breath shuddering, warm against her lips. “Yes,” she whispered, savoring his touch, arching into it, putting meaning behind the word.

He took that meaning, his voice gruff. “This isn’t why I told you.”

“I know that.”

“I’m scoured raw here. I don’t know if touching you is what I should be doing. I might fall apart.”

If he couldn’t hold it together, how could she? Strangely, though, his feeling broken down right now made her strength surge. She planted tiny kisses along his jaw. His chin. The corners of his mouth. He closed his eyes, his body relaxing beneath the soft work of her lips. “Then we’ll put each other back together.”

––––––––

ADMITTING HIS AWFUL truth had taken a lot out of him, so much that he wasn’t sure he had more to give right now. She deserved better than this, and perhaps worst of all, he could sense that she knew it, but she was here anyway.

He wanted to do right by her. Romance her. Sweep her off on exotic dates and getaways. Show her the world, not hide her from it. But this was what they had.

Maybe he should have taken the truth about Dylan to his grave. Most days, he kept it far from his thoughts. But since Iris had been here, so adamantly defending Heidi from the start, he’d wanted her to know who she was working for. Who she was feeling guilty for. And some days, when he couldn’t banish the knowledge, the anguish eclipsed so much that he thought he might die if he didn’t share it with someone. His parents weren’t an option. It would break their hearts. None of his band or friends were an option. He might trust some of them with his life, but he didn’t trust them with his pain.

When he’d found Iris tearful over simply hearing the boys’ voices from the other room, he somehow knew he could trust her.

He’d fallen for Heidi fast. It had been a whirlwind of sex and parties and the occasional illicit substances. He was a fucking rock star and the knockout TV star on his arm proved it. But then the kids had come. The importance of sex and illicit substances and wild Hollywood nights had faded for him. He had grown up. She hadn’t.

Looking at Iris was like looking into a mirror somehow, making him see himself, making him face how much he had changed. Making him realize the things in life that really mattered. He should run from that at this point in his life, in his career.

He didn’t want to. Had no desire to.

She was young, though, and he was jaded. She had hope for the world when he had pretty much come to the conclusion that it was a festering pile of shit. Perhaps his worst fear was taking that hope away from her. Bringing her into his reality and exposing her to all the atrocities that lurked there, all the things that might seek to destroy her.

We’ll put each other back together. The time for that had long since passed, at least for him. But he would hand her the glue and let her do her best.

“Come here,” he told her, and she crawled over him, straddling his hips with her smooth thighs, her blue eyes innocent and trusting. He might die trying to protect that for her, but he’d be willing. Her black hair tumbled around his shoulders as she leaned over him, a tickle of fine silk against his skin. “You’re so beautiful.”

It wasn’t especially bright in here with only one lamp burning across the room, but he saw her cheeks flush and couldn’t resist reaching up to feel that heat with his fingertips. She filled all his senses, all except taste, and he would have that soon enough.

Watching her face all the while, he slipped his fingers under her top and slid it upward. Once he was halfway up her torso, she took over, the brush of her hair lifting and returning in one glorious swoosh as she pulled the burgundy shirt over her head and flung it aside.

He palmed her breasts as soon as they were free, pulling a gasp from her. Better than all his fantasies combined, they filled his hands perfectly, her dusky pink nipples unbelievably responsive as he brushed them with his thumbs.  He knew they tasted as candy-sweet as they looked, and as soon as he lifted his head to lick and suck her, her nimble fingers slid through his hair, holding his head to her. A sigh slipped from between her lips.

Eli practically existed in a state of hardness for her, but with the heat of her hovering only inches away from him, separated only by his jeans and her pajama shorts, her panties, he was ready to rip the seams. He throbbed for her, needed to be inside her like he needed the next beat of his heart, but he couldn’t rush this for her. She’d been through enough.

As he drew her pert nipple between his teeth, his slid his fingers into her shorts, seeking and finding the frothy lace of her panties, touching her over the fabric. Fuck, so hot, so wet already. She didn’t make a sound, but her breathing quickened, her brow furrowing when he glanced up at her. Dropping her head down to kiss his mouth, she moved her hips, grinding against his questing fingers.

He would gladly spend his life giving this woman pleasure. She was so hungry for it, leading him to realize she’d had very little of it in her life. If he could, he would make up for it all. Pulling his hand back, he slipped inside her panties, skin to sultry hot skin. When she scalded the pads of his fingertips, it was Eli who growled into her kiss, their open mouths pausing against each other as they both absorbed the sensations buffeting them.

“Elijah,” she panted as he strummed the needy bud of her clit. He was so hard for her that he couldn’t take much more.

“Iris, unzip me,” he said, unwilling to stop what he was doing to her to handle the task himself. Her fingers were clumsy and trembling, but she was able to manage, and he groaned with relief at the brush of her fingers on his erection, the rush of cool air around his heat as she freed him. “Fuck, you feel good.”

“So do you.”

He paused to take stock. She was shaking hard against him, even her lips trembling where they hovered inches from his. He caught her gaze, held it. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. He caught her face gently with his free hand.

“Baby, if you say the word, I stop. Know that. I don’t care how far we go. There is no point of no return here.”

“I know,” she whispered, but he thought he sensed a relief flow through her, so she’d needed the reminder. “I don’t want you to stop.”

“Do you want my mouth here?” he murmured, stealing a kiss from her as he gave her clit a little circle with his fingertip. “I fucking love going down on you.” He could do it all night. 

She nodded so fast that he chuckled, rising up to put her on her back. Hell, he’d love to pull her up to his face and let her ride his mouth, but she might not be ready for that yet.

Slowly, he slid her shorts and panties off her legs, over her dainty feet. She kept her legs bent shyly together, but when his hands went to her knees and rested there, she opened them for him.

The scent of her arousal went straight to his head, calling to animal urges he had to beat into submission before he let himself settle his head between her thighs.

This, this was his favorite view on fucking earth, and he’d seen sights all over the world. He could gaze up the length of her body, lick and suck her sweetness and watch her nipples harden, watch her breasts shudder with spasms of pleasure, watch her lips fall open and cry out in bliss. It was art. There was nothing like it, and any man who thought otherwise was a lost cause. He could reach up and tease her nipples or slide his fingers inside her or both. He could linger, savoring her, letting the scent and taste of her drive him insane, so that his first push into her body was such a painful relief that he almost came on the spot.

And Iris was so beautiful, so timidly silent while he seduced her into giving up control . . . she made him work for it. But when her thighs tightened by his ears and her staccato gasps filled the air, her hands locking around his wrists as she tossed her head on her pillow, the rewards were stellar.

The last thing he wanted to do was leave her as she floated back down from space after her orgasm, but he needed to scrounge up a condom fucking stat. Once he retrieved one from his bag and climbed back onto the bed with her, she was smiling dreamily up at him, no traces of apprehension as she noted what he held in his hand.

“Still sure?” he asked as he tossed the ripped packet aside and rolled the latex down, watching only her face. Biting that luscious bottom lip, she nodded, then held out her arms to him, somehow the sweetest, most trusting gesture he’d ever seen.

It wasn’t rocket science to make her feel good. Any bastard with half a heart or a brain could figure it out, and not hurt her to the point that she feared intimacy for years afterward. He couldn’t wrap his head around how anyone could look at what he saw right now and want to do that to her. How any man could want to do anything other than cherish her in whatever way she desired.

She gave a pensive head tilt as she studied him in return, her voice soft with worry. “What’s wrong?”

He realized she was waiting for him, arms out for him, and he was staring at her like a dumbass. Easing his weight down beside her, he drew her against him, collecting the feel of her fragility, the softness of her curves against the firm planes of his own. Her expression smoothed over as his hand went between her legs, still wet from his mouth and her orgasm, and he teased her back to arousal. When she tilted her hips toward him, he evaded her until she mewled and her breath came faster. She took one of his fingers easily, sighing in relieved bliss. But her brow furrowed as he tried two. Her inner walls gripped him, pushing against the invasion. He murmured encouragement, reassuring her he would never hurt her beyond what he could control. But he was big, and she was tiny. It wasn’t going to be easy for her no matter what he did.

Shifting over onto his back, he pulled her on top of him, back to their original position. This time, though, she gazed down at him uncertainly as her curtain of hair fell all around.

“I want you to have control,” he told her, hanging onto his own by a thread. Fuck, her smell . . . sweet and heady and suffusing his senses like a pink cloud of rapture. “It might kill me. But that’s okay.”

“It’s just that this is never how I imagined it.”

He grinned. “You imagined it?”

She blushed, which he found amusing since she was sitting naked astride him. What was left to be bashful about? But he loved that about her and hoped it would never change. “Didn’t you?”

“Every fucking day, angel.”

Her eyes widened a fraction. “For how long?”

Damn, was she really going to make him admit it? Apparently so. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about you since the day you tumbled into my arms, Iris. But I never expected to be here, I promise you that.” He looked her over, the miracle of her. “I waited a long time for you.”

“But we really haven’t known each other for long.”

“I know.” He caressed her cheek and repeated himself. “I waited a long time for you.”