Chapter 46 Guilt and desire
IRIS
The door clicks shut behind me, muffling the soft hum of the hallway. I lean against it, exhaling a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. The silence of my room wraps around me, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the party.
"Iris?" Daisy's voice calls out, tinged with concern.
"I'm fine," I reply, forcing a steadiness I don't feel. "Goodnight."
I make my way to the vanity, the mirror reflecting a version of me I barely recognize. Eyes rimmed with unshed tears, lips pressed into a thin line, shoulders slumped under the weight of disappointment.
What did I expect? That Darian would see me, truly see me, and choose me over duty? Over Adira? The thought is laughable.
I reach up, fingers grazing the scar on my neck, the one he gave me. A bond formed in a moment of heavens-know-what, now a chain tethering me to a man who belongs to someone else.
The memory of Adrian's arms around me that night offers little comfort. A fleeting moment of solace in a world that constantly reminds me of my place.
I strip off the remnants of the evening, the dress pooling at my feet. The hot water of the shower scalds my skin, but I welcome the sting. It's a distraction, however brief, from the turmoil inside.
Wrapped in a flimsy nightgown, I settle onto the bed, the cool sheets offering little comfort. The creak of the window draws my attention, and I sit up abruptly.
Darian stands there, silhouetted against the moonlight. His presence is both a balm and a torment.
"What are you doing here?" I whisper, heart pounding.
He steps inside, closing the window behind him. "I needed to see you."
"After everything?" The hurt in my voice is palpable.
He approaches, eyes searching mine. "I apologize for the way you left."
"You think?" I snap, rising to my feet. "I was humiliated, thrown out like garbage."
He reaches out, but I step back. "Don't."
"Iris,." His voice cracks, and for a moment, I see the man behind the title.
"Why now?" I ask, tears threatening to spill.
"Because I can't stay away."
The air thickens between us.
He’s standing just feet away, but the pull between our bodies feels magnetic, alive. My breath hitches as I meet his eyes. They’re darker in the low light, glinting with something fierce. Want. Guilt. Hunger.
He doesn’t speak. He just stares, like he’s memorizing the shape of my face, like he’s already mourning the moment before it ends.
My chest tightens. “You made it clear that night didn’t mean anything when you left before I woke up.”
“It meant everything,” he says. “That’s the problem.”
We stand in silence for a heartbeat too long. Then he moves.
One step.
Another.
Until his hands are brushing my arms, his palms warm against my bare skin. I don’t pull away. I should. I know I should. But all the anger, the confusion, the aching want, it bubbles to the surface and consumes the space between us.
His hand lifts to my jaw, gentle, unsure. “If I kiss you right now, I won’t stop.”
My breath shudders. “Then don’t start.”
But I don’t mean it.
Because the second his lips crash into mine, the world stops.
It’s not soft.
It’s not careful.
It’s everything we’ve been holding back. The tension that’s haunted every stolen glance, every restrained touch, explodes like a dam breaking. His mouth is hot, urgent, hungry against mine. My hands fly to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, dragging him closer. He groans against my lips and the sound unravels something deep in me.
He kisses me like I’m air and he’s been suffocating.
I part my lips, and he deepens it, his hands sliding into my hair, his fingers gripping like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. There’s nothing tentative. Just desperation. Passion. The full force of everything we’ve tried to suppress.
I kiss him back like I want to ruin him.
And maybe I do.
Because in this moment, I want him to forget Adira. The crown. The throne. I want him to forget everything except me.
We finally break apart, both of us breathless.
My chest rises and falls like I’ve run a marathon. His forehead drops to mine, his hand still on the back of my neck like he can’t bear to let go.
He worked his way to my jaw, not before he planted a kiss underneath it, drawing a sharp gasp from me.
My hold around his neck tightened as his lips met mine in a kiss. Like a hungry man, he feasted on me, swallowing each breath I managed to release.
His hands moved to my breasts, cupping them through my nightwear. My nipples tightened to tiny buds, aching as his fingers flickered over them through the piece of clothing.
He tugged at the hem of the gown, and I raised my hand, granting him permission to take it off, revealing my bare breasts.
When he took one of my hardened buds in his mouth and tweaked the other one with his thumb and index finger, my loud moan echoed through the vast space, proof of pleasure coating my underwear.
“Fuck,” he breathed against the skin of my breasts, sending me into a abyss as I forced my eyes close.
He continued to diligently worship my body with his tongue, loud moans slipping from my lips. Logan held me against him like he owned me, his hands cupping my ass, giving it a soft squeeze that elicited a gasp-like moan from me, my head falling backwards and my eyes pressed shut from sheer pleasure.
His hands roamed my body, with urgency and his lips claimed mine again. He consumed me, his eyes mirroring passion, intensity and raw desires. His now ragged breathing mixed with mine, creating a symphony, engulfing the vast space.
One of his hands gripped my firmly by the waist, holding me against him, and the other tugged at the band of my panties, then he slipped his fingers into it, enough for his fingers to find my most sensitive spot.
I jerked, gasping against his lips.
His fingers glided up and down against me, unleashing torturous bursts of pleasures within me like a flood. I struggled to bite back my loud moans but they came tumbling out of my mouth in sputters and prattles when he plunged two fingers inside me.
Fucking goddess.