Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Then she tilted her head, sealing her lips to his.
The kiss was long and deep.
Like she was staking her claim.
And, gods, he was happy to be hers.
28
Iris
Neither seemed in a hurry to get back to land. Or move at all. They just stayed curled together, enjoying the last few moments of solitude, far away from the demands back on land.
“This was the best day,” Iris murmured into Finn’s neck.
“It really was,” he agreed. His lips pressed gently to her hair.
“How much longer do we have?”
“Two hours before we really need to get back to shore.”
She never questioned why he had such an exact time. She was just glad that there was no rush to leave.
They spent some time tangled together, a few moments finishing what was left of the charcuterie board. Then Finn sat and watched her swim for a few more precious moments.
She soaked up every moment of it, knowing it would likely be a while until she could visit again, with the deadlines of the election and the wedding looming large.
When she finally made it back on board, Finn pulled the anchor and started to drive.
Iris let herself dry completely right there on the sun pad.
“Iris,” he called, making her turn to look over her shoulder at him. “You’re going to want to cover up soon,” he said, holding out her panties and cover-up toward her.
She reached for them but looked off toward the shore—still quite far away.
But she slipped back into her clothes before joining Finn in the cockpit.
He moved her between him and the wheel, wrapping his arms around her while she pretended to steer.
It was lovely.
Perfect.
Iris stood, transfixed, as Finn backed the stern into the marina, but both of them let out a little chuckle when he bumped the dock.
“Okay, now you take over with the wheel.”
“Me?” she squeaked.
“You just need to hold it steady so I can tie us down.”
That was a simple enough task. And she got to watch Finn loop the line around the dock cleat with practiced ease. Then he glanced back at her at the helm and shot her a grin.
Iris was still on cloud nine as they walked down the dock with the sun setting romantically behind them.
His hand went around her lower back.
She leaned her head against his shoulder.
Pretty as a picture, Iris thought, her lips curving up into a satisfied smile.
As if her mind had conjured it, the flash of a camera had her heartbeat stuttering.
The smile fell from her lips as one flash met another and another and another.
“This way, Finn.”
“Give us a kiss.”
“Iris, a little to your left.”
“What is this?” Iris asked, her heart plummeting as she wrenched away from Finn.
It really had been the perfect day.
Too perfect.
His timing was too precise.
He’d taken her on a date to set them up for a photo op.
She wanted to see shock or anger on his face, like she felt on her own.
“Iris …” he said, his tone placating.
The words were there, hanging heavy in the air around them.
Think of the optics. Don’t make a scene.
Campaign over everything, even her comfort.
She was hardly even dressed. Which was fine for a stroll down the dock toward the car. It was a complete other thing to have that image plastered all over gossip blogs and magazine covers.
Her hands folded over her chest, trying to cover up some more, painfully aware of the thin fabric and her nipple stickers.
“How was the queen?” a reporter asked.
Iris wrenched away when Finn tried to hold her tighter, tried to get her to play her part, to accept what felt like a betrayal.
Of course, the day had been perfect.
He’d planned it for the best optics.
Because he knew it was going to make the best gossip.
She stared at him for another second, all of her hurt raw on her face.
Then she turned and strode away.
Please follow me, she silently begged. Show me I matter more than what the public thinks.
But when she turned back at the start of the parking lot, he was engaged in a conversation with one of the paparazzi.
Her heart ground to dust as she watched him. Plastic smile. Practiced laugh. Never once glancing in her direction.
She’d let him in. Let herself believe. Just this once, she thought it might be real. And now the whole day felt like a carefully edited campaign ad.
Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, there was a flash nearby. It captured, no doubt, her heartbreak.
She whipped away and broke into a run.
She had no phone, no money, no cards, no way to get back to the city.
Once she was sure she was alone, she dove into the water, swimming as hard and fast as she could, making her way back toward Manhattan, where she pulled herself out of the water.
Her cover-up was drenched, almost completely see-through, as she sat there for a few moments, hand pressed to the aching hole in her chest.