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But she couldn’t help it. The floodgates opened and she wept. Days of ever-increasing fear, followed by the illogical terror that had shut down the rational parts of her brain until all that was left was an overpowering need to escape, to flee…
In her mind, self-preservation had meant getting out of that room, despite the fact that it was the absolute worst thing she could have done. There had been no rhyme or reason to her fear. Her overwhelming instinct was to get out and she’d stared out into the cold, black night and had convinced herself that—because it wasn’t raining or windy--it was safe and she would be fine.
And once she was out, she’d kept going… no thought in her mind other than, if she could just get to town, everything would be fine. She’d be safe.
“I don’t know why I did that,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “I was so scared. I can’t even explain it, I just know that I’ve never felt such terror in my life before.”
“It was cold and wet and dark, nobody can blame you for being scared, Iris. I was pretty fucking terrified too. When I saw you standing there. Right next to that river. Jesus.”
He shuddered at the recollection.
“No,” she shook her head in denial, aware that his beautiful chest was slick with her tears. “That’s not what I meant. Being in that room. Locked in. Trapped. That’s what scared me. I wanted out so desperately, I didn’t even consider the consequences of leaving through that window. And that’s what really scares me now. I had no thought of self-preservation. I nearly killed myself—and you—because of what I know is a stupid, irrational fear.”
“It’s not stupid and irrational to you, Iris. And I don’t blame you for what happened. Phobias aren’t rational. You tried to tell me that, and I refused to listen. Worse, I refused to believe you. That’s my fault, okay?”
She nodded, and swiped at her face.
“I got your chest all wet,” she pointed out mournfully.
“It’ll dry.”
He was stroking her back and Iris was once again reminded of their nudity. And now, after the initial storm of regret, fear and despair had passed, it was all she could think about.
“I’m naked,” she blurted the obvious fact without preamble. His hand paused its stroking for a moment before he continued.
“I needed to get you warmed up as fast as possible. That meant a hot shower.”
“You’re nearly naked too.” Gosh she sounded like a complete idiot, but her brain seemed to have malfunctioned and she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with this information, or about the situation right now.
“Skin on skin is the quick and dirty method of getting, and staying, warm.”
“Oh, I’m sure it was completely necessary, only… it’s a little weird now, no?”
“Are you uncomfortable?”
God, no… she was so comfortable and relaxed, she felt like she was on the verge of melting into a pool of gooey liquid. But there was the other matter to consider.
She tried to find a delicate way of phrasing it, but in the end her candidness won out, as always.
“You have an erection.”
“Yes. Can’t really help that, though. Hashtag-woke-up-like-this. But don’t worry, it’s over here, minding its own business. And not worthy of your concern, or your attention.”
His words startled a delighted laugh out of her and she looked up to see his lips curve into a smile.
“You’ve had a traumatic, draining experience, Iris. Get some more sleep. I’ll be here if you need me.”
She felt like she should protest, like she should at least insist on going to her own bed, but she felt so warm and snug and safe that she really didn’t want to. Instead, she snuggled closer, trying not to notice how that extremely persistent hard-on of his briefly slid between her thighs as she wriggled against him.
He muffled a groan and she went still at the sound.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured and he inhaled deeply before releasing the breath slowly.
“It’s all good. I’m just…” He went silent and she waited for him to complete the sentence, but he left it hanging.
“Just what?” she asked after nearly a full minute had passed.
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. About me. I’m fine.” His strained voice made a liar of him, but Iris’s lids were growing heavier and her brain was fogging over. She wanted to pursue the matter but she was asleep before her mind could formulate a response.
