Page 85 of Devil's Iris
When I finally blink through the haze, he’s staring down between my thighs, looking wrecked, powerful,possessed. His cock still twitches in his fist, chest heaving.
“Fuck,” he whispers, reverent, utterly struck. “Look at you.”
30
ROMERO
I should have listened to Rafael.
Going on this honeymoon might just be one of the most reckless things I’ve ever done. Christ, what was I thinking?
I glance down at my sleeping wife and there it is again—that stinging tenderness that seems to have wormed itself into my chest. She’severywherenow. Wormed herself into my heart, under my skin, inside my head. Every breath I take tastes of her.
Fuck.
I thought I was being nice. A gentleman. Bringing her out here to make her first time special. And yes, so I could have uninterrupted time and access to her body. What a delusional bastard I was.
I get off the bed in quick jerky motions, careful not to wake her. Then pants on, phone in hand, I slip out of the room. I need air. Space. Time to think.
And a glass of water.
The villa mocks me as I pad down the stairs towards the kitchen. Everywhere my gaze lands reminds me of her—ofus. Because over the course of the past week, I’ve fucked her on every available surface inside this place. Every single one.
The walls. In the pool. The couch in the living room. The desk in the library...
My chest tightens, my breath rasping in my throat as the memories assault me. There’s no escape from her, from thisfeeling.
The cool water does nothing to ease it, nor the stubborn lump lodged in my throat. This trip was meant to changeher—to bind her to me, to make her dependent on the pleasure only I can give her. Instead, I’m the one whose entire world has shifted on its axis.
Fuck.
I need to get out of here.
Yes. That’s it. Everything will snap back into place once we’re back in Brooklyn, back on my turf where I understand the rules. Where the familiar weight of my responsibilities will smother this… whatever the hell this is.
We still have two days left in this paradise, but I’m already lifting my phone and firing a quick text to my pilot to have the jet waiting on the mainland by morning. I don’t give a shit if it means he needs to leave New York right the fuck now to meet my deadline. I pay him enough to deal with my emergencies, not to get his beauty sleep.
Another text to the seaplane pilot to arrange our pickup, andfinallythe vice grip around my heart loosens enough for me to breathe.
It’s just this place messing with me. All this tropical air, the isolation, and constant sex and proximity to her naked body. It’s more than enough to muddle even the strongest man’s head and make him feel things. Even a cold-hearted bastard like me apparently has limits to what his heart can withstand.
The sex is phenomenal—the best I’ve ever had. So naturally I’m confusing great fucking with actual feelings. But alittle distance will cure this temporary insanity. Space will make me realize this was all just an illusion. A honeymoon haze. Nothing more.
I finish my water and head back upstairs, feeling more confident in myself and my decisions.
But when I slip into the bedroom, Leni is awake, those pretty gray eyes scanning the room with a confused frown. The second she spots me, her face lights up like I hung the fucking moon, and just like that the vise clamps down again, squeezing so hard I can’t breathe all over again.
“There you are.” Her voice is honey-soft, still thick with sleep as she reaches for me. “Where did you go?”
I rub my chest as I approach the bed. “Just got some water.” My voice is raspy from all the emotions I’m battling, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
I slide in beside her, and like it’s the most natural thing in the world, she snuggles into me, sighing contentedly. “Mmm, that’s so much better.” Her warm palm spreads over my bare chest, directly over the chaos she’s set off in my ribcage, and my traitorous cock immediately springs to attention despite the fact that I came inside her three separate times just hours ago.
She’s asleep again within seconds, her hair tickling my chin while I lie there stiff as a board, realizing just how royally, completely, catastrophically fucked I am.
Morning light streams through the windows when I wake up, and thank Christ I surface before she does. I allow myself exactly thirty seconds to feast my eyes on her—the way the emerging sunlight turns her hair to liquid copper and makes her skin glow, the soft shadows her lashes cast on her cheeks, the way her body curves trustingly against mine.
In this moment, I know with bone-deep certainty that I’d kill anyone who tried to hurt her.
