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She unbuttons my shirt, and then her hands are everywhere. I reach into my pocket and pull out a condom, and she works my pants open, freeing me. Her fingers wrap around me, her stroke making my head fall back against the couch.

“Fuck, Iris,” I growl.

My hand dives between us, and I push the lace aside, finding her slick and ready for me. She shudders as I circle her clit, teasing her. She rips open the condom and slides it over me, then sinks down inch by inch. We both moan at the same time, her head tipping back. With one hand still on her ass, holding on tight, and the other continuing the slow circles, I stare up at her in awe as she clenches around me. The need to move faster is strong, but I want to savor this and make it last as long as possible.

When I reach forward and bite her nipple, she cries out, her fingers threading through my hair as she rides me harder. The couch creaks beneath us, and she trembles under my fingers, her pace faltering as she nears the edge. I don’t stop until I feel her flutters around me, and she rides it out, her tits bouncing.

She’s never looked so beautiful.

When she opens her eyes, looking dazed, and grins, I flip us, leaning over her as I drive deeper, taking control.

Her mouth parts, and she gasps.

“So good,” she cries.

I thrust into her, slowly at first. Once she’s used to me, I move faster, relentlessly, and she urges me on.

“Harder. Yes.”

“You’re perfect, Iris. So perfect for me.”

“Mmm. Right there.” Her words dissolve in a gasp, her body arching as she pulses around me, longer this time.

I follow seconds later, burying my face in her neck.

We stay like that, tangled and spent, for a few minutes, catching our breath.

“Okay, best date ever,” she finally says.

I come back from the bathroom and crawl into bed, tugging Iris toward me. She lies against my chest, and I pull a blanket over her shoulders. My fingers trail down her back, while hers are tracing circles on my chest.

“I hate what’s been done to you, Iris. The way Nonna looked at you—I didn’t realize she would treat you like that. She always loved you.”

“I went in one time after Lincoln died, and she was so different that I never went back . . . until tonight.”

I tilt her chin up so she’ll look at me.

“I’m so sorry that I put you through that tonight. That I’ve put you through all of this.”

“You don’t need to keep saying you’re sorry. I’m still working through it, but I’m here.” She smiles up at me. “And I also understand why everyone blames me. I blame myself.”

“You shouldn’t. It was Lincoln’s choice to drive that night. I really wish you’d let me tell my family, though . . . and Jennifer.”

“I’d rather she never know. She blames me for Manny’s death too, and she’s right to feel that way,” I say quietly.

Chapter 27: A New Fury

Iris, age eighteen

I curl up on my lumpy mattress, eyes practically swollen shut from all the crying I’ve done in the past two weeks. I cry, then run to the bathroom to heave over the toilet. Rinse and repeat.

“What is wrong with you?” My mom stands at the bathroom door, staring at me. “Shit, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

I wipe my mouth, not looking at her, and she groans.

“Goddammit, Iris! We are not having a baby here. There’s barely enough room for the two of us.”

She slams her hand on the doorjamb, and I jump, grabbing a tissue to blow my nose.