Iris (The Wild Side)

CHAPTER SEVEN

It was four days later, and I was just pulling my car out of the garage when I saw a silver Jaguar pulling up to the curb in front of my house.
The silver Jaguar.
I put my car in park and got out, fists clenching, and started striding towards it.
Iris opened the passenger door, nearest to me.
That blond f*cker was in there, behind the wheel and saying something to her, his handsome face serious, his eyes intent on her.
She nodded once, leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, said something in his ear, then got out.
That was when his eyes swung to me, and his whole demeanor changed, his hard jaw clenching, his eyes going glacial.
The guy hated me, despised me almost as much as I did him. I knew it in one look.
I broke into a run, determined to catch him before he left.
Iris shut her door, one look at her telling me that she really hadn’t wanted me to see who was dropping her off.
The Jaguar peeled away with a screech.
I almost chased him on foot, barely stopped myself from that act of lunacy.
Instead, I rounded on Iris.
She was looking back and forth, between my car and me.
It was still running, driver’s door open.
I half-toyed with the idea of going after him in the car, but what was the point?
She was here now, for the moment, at least. It was clearly the most I’d ever be getting from her.
I went to her, grabbing her shoulders, wanting to shake her. “Who the f*ck is he? Tell me.”
“I can’t. I would if I could. Trust me.”
I shook my head. I didn’t trust her. How could I? She’d given me cause to do nothing but distrust her. She gave me no answers, so I was forced to draw conclusions, and those conclusions were based on logic, not hope, so they never worked in her favor, because there was no good, logical reason for the things she lied about.
She seemed to know it. “I’m sorry. I wanted to see you, to be with you, but this is how it has to be. I can’t talk about him, and I wish you hadn’t seen him. Where are you headed in your swim trunks?”
I let out a frustrated breath, dragging my hand through my hair. “It’s not important. Let’s go inside. If I only get a few more hours with you, I want to spend them in bed.”
She was stubborn, digging in her heels when I tried to tug her towards her house. “Tell me where you were going. And I can stay for more than a few hours this time.”
That reassurance did wonders for my mood, and had me answering her question. “My friend is having a pool party, but it’s nothing important.”
She beamed. “I love parties. Let’s go. I need to stop and buy a suit, though.”
I didn’t want to take her, didn’t want to share her company with anyone, let alone a large crowd.
Something vulnerable entered her eyes. “I almost forgot. You don’t want to be seen with me.”
My gut clenched. That wasn’t even accurate, but now I had to prove otherwise.
Goddammit.
And there was another, more persistent devil of a doubt that had me caving fast. I didn’t want to be boring to her, to be too tame for the wild part of her, and attending a party at Turner’s house was bound to be anything but that.
I bent down and kissed her briefly, rubbing her shoulders. “That’s not true at all. I don’t want to go because I want to be alone with you, but if it’s that important, we’ll swing by. I’m not staying more than two hours, though, I’m warning you right now.”
She hugged me. “Do you mind stopping at a store on the way? I don’t have to swim, but you know I love the water.”
There wasn’t a store on the way, but I wasn’t telling her that. Knowing her, I was half-afraid that if she didn’t have a suit, she’d somehow end up swimming naked.
“I don’t mind at all. Just tell me where you go to buy suits. I haven’t shopped at an actual store in years. I do everything online.”
I wound up GPSing some women’s swimsuit shop that was about thirty minutes out of the way on a ten-minute drive.
I didn’t complain. It was more time having her to myself before the chaos began, because any party where I showed up with Iris for the first time would surely be that.
She was a quick shopper, didn’t even try the bikini on, just grabbed a neon yellow number that was just the most minuscule series of strings and triangles.
“Oh, I love this color!” the sales clerk said as she checked her out. “It’s called Sun Worshipper. Isn’t that the perfect name for it?”
Iris agreed, and then proceeded to nearly make a scene when I tried to pay, instead using her own cash.
I backed off quickly, easily embarrassed by scenes, though it was all infuriating, so infuriating that I stormed out of the store as she finished up.
I’d never so much as taken her out to dinner. It made my allegation that she was interested in my money all the more ridiculous, which I thought was her point.
She came out a few minutes later, wearing the suit.
I could barely look at her without embarrassing myself, that’s how sexy it was.
In fact, I made a point of not looking at her body after she had it on.
But I got enough of a look to have it burned into my memory.
Permanently.
It wasn’t that it was especially small. It was tiny, but I’d seen her wear tiny bikinis before. The triangles that covered her were about the normal size for a string bikini.
It was the strings that turned the thing into pure wickedness. They laced together over her cleavage up to the base of her neck, teasing along the skin, pulled taut over her pushed together cleavage, making each inch uncovered all the more sinful. The same effect of intertwined laces played over her hips, and right down to the V of material right over her sex.
And forget about the back.
It was too much, laces barely covering the top of her ass, looking like they might come apart at any second.
“You don’t wear a cover-up or anything?” I asked her, voice low and rough.
“Nope. Do you like the suit?”
I nodded, not looking at her. If I started talking about how she looked, even just to compliment her, I knew I’d be hard for an hour, so I didn’t say another word about it, willing my hard-on to go away by the time we got to the party.
On the way back to the car, I commented on the huge stack of cash I’d seen in her purse.
Of course, I knew what it was from, remembering well her gambling problem, but it seemed prudent to point it out. Perhaps I’d get a square answer from her, for once.
And I did. Disconcertingly so.
She shot me that level stare over the top of the car for a long moment before getting in.
“You know where that money’s from,” said Iris, finally. “You think I didn’t notice you following me all those nights?”
She said this just as I was starting the car. It stopped me in my tracks. I looked at her, shocked speechless for the longest time.
She’d known all along when I’d been following her, and hadn’t commented, hadn’t minded?
“You never said anything,” I pointed out.
She sighed. “Neither did you. I knew you were imagining I was up to worse things. I thought it would make you feel better to see that I wasn’t up to anything too troublesome.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Iris. A gambling problem is pretty damned troublesome.”
She grinned. “Gambling is only a problem if you lose. If you recall, I never lose.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I never had seen her lose.
I had my own theories about it, but I felt silly even thinking it, let alone asking.
“Were you ever a cigarette girl?” I asked, since she was actually handing out answers, for once.
“Never.”
“Where have you been for the last two months?”
I was sorry I asked, because the question effectively quelled that rare flow of information.
“Tammy is going to be there,” I told her when we were nearly at Turner’s house only just then remembering to warn her.
“You’re still going to parties with your ex-wife? You two getting along better now?”
I flushed. “Not at all. And I’m not going with her. I’m going, and I got wind that she’s crashing the thing. I just thought I should warn you.”
“So she’s still after you,” she said, her tone perfectly blank.
I had no idea what to say to that or even if it could be true.
It was five p.m. when we finally pulled up to Turner’s estate. The place was packed, music blasting in back that could be heard as you pulled onto the drive.
It was a madhouse, which I’d expected, but I found that it agitated me more now that I was bringing Iris into said madhouse.
Turner met us at the front door, shirtless and holding a cocktail. He was ripped, his tan chest gleaming. If it had just been us guys, I’d have immediately started ragging on him about oiling himself up. As it was, I didn’t want to draw any attention to his body, if there was any shot Iris hadn’t noticed on her own.
He grinned, clapping me on the back, then froze and blinked a few times as he caught sight of Iris.
“You must be Iris,” he guessed with a smile.
She beamed at him. She liked that I’d obviously been talking about her to him, though I hoped she never knew that I’d shared way too many specifics about our sex life.
I’d never been one to give out details like that, never before at least, but I’d started hanging out with Turner after she’d left, when I’d needed to vent, and so way too much information had been shared. My only excuse was that I needed someone to talk to, because I honestly thought I’d never see her again.
Still, I hoped she never found out just how explicitly familiar Turner was with the things she and I had done together.
“Dair has told me only the most wonderful things about you,” Turner told her engagingly, and without even asking, walked up and gave her a big, tight embrace—the perverted motherf*cker.
“Holy shit,” he mouthed over her shoulder at me, the hug lingering a few beats more than I liked.
I gave him a less than friendly look, and he let her go, grinning unabashedly.
“I’m surprised you weren’t out back,” I told him, pulling Iris closer to me, throwing my arm over her shoulder. “Why you hanging out inside during your own party?”
He made a face. “Just random chance I was in here. Had a ten-minute conference call that couldn’t be avoided. You know how it is. Anyway, it’s done now, and I saved you a spot in the shade. This way.” He started moving through the house, and we followed, Iris still plastered to my side, tight enough that I could feel one ripe tit rubbing into my ribcage.
F*ck. I moved away from her in an effort not to embarrass myself.
Turner took us to the best seat in the house, a covered cabana with perfect views and access to the pool.
I took my shirt off, though I was in the shade, and I didn’t need to work on my tan. My natural coloring, combined with the fact that I swam outside nearly every day, took care of that.
A waiter came and got our drink orders almost instantly.
I ordered a Mai Tai, but Iris just asked for water.
Who did that?
A wild party girl who drank water instead of cocktails.
As always, she was a contradiction.