Page 25 of Guarding the Star

“What if it's true? What if he's out there right now? In the parking lot? On the street? Watching us? What if he has cameras in the apartment?”

“I checked every entrance to the building less than an hour ago. I've checked our perimeter cameras, the locks, the emergency exits. Nobody is here. There can't be any recording devices inside the apartment, audio or video, we did a professional sweep,” I remind her.

“And tomorrow? And at the stadium? And when I go for a run?”

“Tomorrow I'll be with you. At the stadium, I'll be with you. When you go for a run, I'll be with you. I won't let him get near you,” I tell her, and I run my hand down her left arm.

She looks at me. Her green eyes are wet. She doesn't cry, but they shine, and her jaw is clenched. With her arms crossed like this, she looks smaller than she is.

“I'm going to need full access to your phone,” I say. “Your socials. Everything.”

“Okay,” she says. No resistance.

“Do you want me to call Zoe? Or Lucía?”

“No. I don't want anyone to see me like this.”

“Like what?”

“Scared,” she says.

I pull her into a long hug. I can't stop myself. It isn't professional, but it's what she needs and what every nerve in my body is screaming at me to do.

“He's not going to hurt you. As long as I'm here, he's not going to touch you. I swear, if he tries, I'll rip his head off,” I whisper in her ear, and I kiss her cheek.

Iris pulls back slightly and raises her eyebrows.

“That wasn't very professional,” she murmurs.

“No. It wasn't professional at all. But that one's a promise.”

She nods and buries her face in my neck so I'll hold her again. I feel her breathing, the tip of her nose brushing my skin. She knows I just crossed the line I've been avoiding all day.

Her lips graze my neck. Small kisses. Slow. Deliberate.

And that's what destroys me.

Everything she does is impulsive. The goals, the jokes, how she moves through people. But this isn't. She traces my neck, and every kiss is different from the last. The first is barely a touch, her lips just below my ear.

The second drops half an inch and pauses. The third makes me tremble. She opens her mouth, and I feel the heat of her breath on my skin, the tip of her tongue, half a second, just enough to short-circuit everything.

I don't remember putting my hands on her waist, but my fingers close over the fabric of her pajamas, and I feel the warmth of her body underneath. The muscles along her side. The curve of her ribs as she breathes. She's breathing fast.

We're both breathing fast.

And she doesn't stop.

She pushes my shirt aside to kiss my shoulder. Her teeth graze the thin skin of my collarbone, and a sound escapes me that I didn't know I was holding.

“Want me to stop?” she whispers, her fingertips tracing my neckline.

“No.”

“You sure?”

All I can do is nod.

She climbs back up. Slow. Kiss by kiss. First my jaw. She stops at the corner of my mouth, not touching my lips, making my whole body beg without a single word.