Page 83 of Iris Kelly Doesn't Date

Lesson?

That sure as shit didn’t feel like a lesson.

It felt fucking amazing.

Fun and sexy and wild. Stevie teased her, controlled her, and Iris loved it. Then... god, Stevie’s touch. Even above her underwear, it had been intense, perfect, pressing and circling in random patterns in a way that got Iris there so fast, the impending orgasm had taken her a bit by surprise.

She hadn’t expected to come during these lessons.

She hadn’t expected to be sodesperateto come.

And she sure as hell didn’t expect herself to stop the whole thing.

Iris wasn’t sure what made her do it. But suddenly, the idea ofcrying out under Stevie’s fingers, of Stevie seeing her that exposed and vulnerable... Iris couldn’t do it. Which made absolutely zero sense because Iris always came. Every encounter she had—she made sure of it. Even when she barely remembered her partner’s name, even when she was bored or tired or a little too buzzed from a couple of drinks. And she never felt like she was exposing some part of herself to her partner. Orgasms were simple science, a bundle of nerves reacting to stimuli.

Stevie shouldn’t be any different.

But somehow, she was.

Iris told herself the instructive aspect simply threw her off. She’d certainly never given anyone actual sex lessons before, and she didn’t want to come across as creepy, racking up orgasms while Stevie asked her if she was doing it right. What happened on that bed was forStevie, and Iris had helped Stevie take control, which was clearly what Stevie needed to feel confident in bed.

Maybe Adri had never given her that before. Adri certainly radiated some big top energy, so it was fully possibly that when it came to sex, Adri and Stevie—

Iris closed her eyes. She didn’t want to bring Adri into her thought process. The way Adri spoke to Stevie last night still made Iris want to light something on fire, but she also knew their sex life—and whatever messy and complicated thing was still going on with them—was none of her business.

All of which was why Iris stopped Stevie. She even wondered if Stevie could manage on her own from this point forward, meet someone for real, and Iris needed to concentrate on her book.

On the play.

On anything but the sound Stevie made when she’d touched Iris, that barely-there hitch in her breath that had made Iris so wet, she—

Iris squeezed her eyes shut again. This was just unfulfilled lust.That’s all it was. Once they got back to Oregon, Iris would return to Lush. Find someone to be with who was uncomplicated and nameless.

Someone Iris could easily forget.

She quickly plaited her hair into a braid and brushed her teeth, trying to think through the next scene in her book, maybe something with a moonlit beach walk or drive along Pacific Coast Highway.

Problem was, she couldn’t get Tegan McKee’s face clear in her mind, nor her adorably clumsy love interest, Briony. In the scenes that drifted through Iris’s brain right now, there was only a honey-eyed woman, messy curls spiraling over her forehead, filling every single page.

BY THE TIMEIris got herself together and emerged from the bathroom, Stevie was gone. She ignored the way her stomach knotted at the empty room—they had a lot of work to do today, after all, and honestly, Iris couldn’t wait to see Stevie as Benedick.

When Iris got downstairs, dressed in a rainbow-striped jumpsuit, the rest of the principal crew had arrived. Stevie was at the breakfast table, a cup of coffee in her hands, Adri sitting across from her, wearing a pair of clear-framed glasses and focused on her iPad.

Iris watched them for a few seconds, unsure of what she was looking for.

Camaraderie?

Love?

Lust?

Hell, Iris didn’t know why she was even looking for anything. She cleared her throat, and several other people’s eyes snapped to hers.

“Hey, you must be Iris!” a Black man with a septum piercing said. “I’m Peter. I’m playing Claudio.”

“Oh, hey,” Iris said, accepting his kiss on her cheek. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“And I’m Jasper,” a white man said from near the coffeemaker. “Hero. And that’s Satchi and Nina.” He pointed to a Japanese American woman with a middle part and dyed purple tips, and a white woman with strawberry blond pigtails. “They’re Don Pedro and Don John.”