Chapter 43: Craving His Touch Again

Chapter 43: Chapter 43: Craving His Touch Again

Sophia ran a gentle hand over Iris’s hair, her fingers untangling a stray curl that had escaped its band.

"And don’t let one night become something you use to punish yourself, my love," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm.

"If Alexander was kind to you, truly kind, and you made a choice you don’t regret in your heart, then that’s between you and him. But if you ever find yourself in his orbit again, make sure you’re choosing him because he’s the one you want, not because you feel some obligation, or worse, because you want to prove something to Jason."

Iris was quiet, her gaze fixed on the intricate patterns in the woven blanket draped across her lap. Her mother’s words, delivered with such gentle wisdom, settled somewhere deep inside her, resonating with a truth she had been actively avoiding.

Because that was the part she had been trying so desperately not to think about. She had told herself, in the frantic hours after she’d fled, that she’d slept with Alexander as a reckless act of defiance, a desperate attempt to reclaim some agency after Jason’s betrayal. It had been easier that way, a neat, albeit flimsy, explanation.

But deep down, in the quiet corners of her mind that she rarely let herself explore, she knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

There had been something about Alexander. Something she couldn’t quite explain, an inexplicable pull that transcended the chaotic aftermath of her recent heartbreak. Something that had made being near him, even in the blur of newfound intimacy, feel strangely... natural. Something that still lingered in her memory, a persistent warmth days later, an echo of his touch.

Iris glanced toward the window. Her voice, when it finally came, was barely above a whisper, almost lost in the soft hush of the room. "I don’t think I’m going to see him again, Mom."

Sophia raised an eyebrow, a subtle shift in her posture. A question, unspoken, hung in the air between them. "And why, pray tell, would you believe that?"

"Because I kinda... left while he was still asleep," Iris confessed, her cheeks growing warm. The memory of her hurried departure, the quiet click of the door, still brought a flush of embarrassment.

Sophia’s mouth slowly widened, her eyes first registering surprise, then a slow, burgeoning amusement that threatened to bubble over.

"You left? Just like that? My Iris, who guarded her virtue with the ferocity of a dragon for twenty-two years, finally gives it away to a man – a ridiculously handsome one, I might add – and the very first thing she does... is run!?" She threw her hands up in mock exasperation, a soft laugh escaping her lips.

"Well... I left him a note," Iris added defensively, the heat in her cheeks intensifying. She fidgeted with the blanket, avoiding her mother’s direct gaze.

"Oh, for heaven’s sake, I cannot believe I gave birth to you right now!" Sophia exclaimed, shaking her head.

She looked at her daughter with a blend of disbelief and bewildered affection, as if contemplating an alien species.

The notion that Iris, after such a momentous personal milestone, would simply vanish instead of, perhaps, exploring the burgeoning connection, or even making the man she’d chosen to be with take some measure of responsibility... or at least try to get to know him, to see if something real might blossom.

She had always imagined a different trajectory for this significant event. But here was Iris, her beloved, sensible Iris, doing the complete opposite.

"Mom!" Iris groaned, a familiar plea in her voice. She’d anticipated this reaction; Zoey had given her a near-identical performance when she’d confessed her hasty retreat.

"And please do tell me, Iris dear," Sophia continued, her eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth, "What profound words did you grace this poor man with in your farewell note?"

Iris hesitated, her gaze flickering away from her mother’s knowing eyes, settling instead on a small, framed photo on the bedside table. "I kinda... told him to forget me."

Sophia’s mouth slowly opened, then a soft, almost incredulous chuckle escaped, growing louder until it filled the quiet room.

"You told the handsome stranger you spent the night with, the one who obviously made quite the impression, to simply... forget you?" Her voice was laced with an undeniable amusement now, a warmth and fondness returning to her eyes that eased Iris’s tension a fraction.

"And why on earth would you make such a peculiar request, if I may inquire?" Sophia asked, a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow arching upwards in inquiry.

"Well..." Iris struggled for the right words, her hands still fussing with the blanket. "Well, I had just gotten my heart broken, hadn’t I? It hadn’t even been a full day since... since Jason. So I guess I was just terrified, Mom. The idea of a new relationship, of even considering one, when the one I was in for three years ended so... so utterly in betrayal." Her voice trailed off, a hint of the lingering pain still evident.

"What I’m hearing, my dear Iris," Sophia countered gently, leaning forward slightly, "are just excuses. And frankly, that sounds very much like something my daughter would do when she is terrified of admitting she actually likes someone, especially someone who makes her feel things she isn’t quite ready to acknowledge."

"I don’t like him," Iris retorted quickly, perhaps a little too quickly, the words feeling brittle even to her own ears.

"Of course you do, darling," Sophia said, her tone dripping with mock seriousness, her eyes sparkling with an undeniable "I know best" glint. She reached out and patted Iris’s knee.

"Mom!" Iris groaned again, shaking her head, a small smile playing on her lips despite herself.

"All right, all right," Sophia lifted both hands in a theatrical gesture of surrender, laughing softly, a gentle, knowing sound that always made Iris feel both seen and slightly exasperated.

"But for someone you claim you don’t like, you certainly seem to remember him quite vividly, wouldn’t you say?"

Iris looked away, her lips pressed together in a firm line. She had no answer for that, no clever retort, because her mother was, infuriatingly, entirely correct.

"And like I said before," Sophia continued, her voice softening, a note of gentle wisdom returning.

"Girls, we don’t forget our first time... ever. You might tell yourself you’ll forget him and simply move on, but the next guy you’re with, you won’t be able to help comparing him to the one who awakened something in you. That’s just how it is, honey. And knowing you, Iris, with your depth of feeling... it’s going to be much, much worse for you."

Iris said nothing, because her mom was, once again, perfectly right. Since that night with Alexander, she had found herself doing something she had never done before: having incredibly vivid, undeniably erotic dreams.

And the face of the man who dominated those nocturnal fantasies was none other than Alexander.

Iris realized, with a startling clarity that both thrilled and terrified her, that she was actually craving him. She wanted to feel his kiss again, wanted him between her legs, wanted to hear his guttural grunts of pleasure beside her ear. Wanted to feel his powerful thrusts again, wanted to moan his name in the throes of passion.

The need to be near him, to experience that raw, potent connection again, was surprisingly strong, almost visceral, which was profoundly weird to her. She honestly didn’t know what else to do anymore or how to get him out of her mind and thoughts; he seemed to have taken up permanent residence there.

Still lost in these deep, unsettling thoughts, when her fingers subconsciously went to her throat. When they brushed against the strange, mark hidden beneath her collar, a wild, almost absurd thought sparked in her mind:

whether Alexander had anything to do with the impossible, inexplicable things that had begun happening to her since that night. The vivid dreams, the strange mark...She pushed the thought away, firmly.

For now, there were still too many questions, too many new sensations she couldn’t categorize. And she certainly wasn’t ready to tell her mother about the peculiar wolf-like mark or the disconcertingly explicit dreams, or the other dreams about the snowy mountain. Not yet.

She sighed, a long, weary sound, and shifted, laying back in her mother’s comforting embrace, resting her head on her mother’s chest. The familiar rhythm of Sophia’s heartbeat was a small anchor in the storm of her thoughts.

"I don’t want to think much about it, Mom," Iris murmured, her voice muffled against her mother’s sweater. "In two days, I’ll be back in Seattle, and I’ll be so busy. I probably won’t have time to think about any of this, I guess." She tried to imbue her voice with a conviction she didn’t quite feel.

"Well, honey," her mom said, her voice a soft hum against Iris’s ear, "if... and I mean if you do meet this Alexander again, what do you truly think you would do?"

"I don’t know," Iris admitted, the fragile facade of indifference crumbling. "And I don’t think we’re ever going to see each other again. I mean, we know nothing about the other, except for our first names, really. And Seattle is a huge city, Mom, with millions of people. There’s no way we’re ever going to accidentally run into each other again."

She tried to reassure herself of that fact, even as a tiny, rebellious part of her wondered, wished, it weren’t true.

In truth, she didn’t know what she would do if she indeed met Alexander again. He was a stranger, yet he didn’t feel like a stranger at all.

And now, it seemed, her body craved his touch, his presence. Iris rationalized that perhaps the reason was simply her inexperience; having had so few encounters in that category, her body was clinging to the only one it now knew. It was a logical explanation, and she clung to it like a life raft.

"You never know, sweetie," her mom said, her fingers gently stroking Iris’s hair. "How Providence works. Fate has a funny way of bringing people together, sometimes, even across millions of people."

Iris said nothing at that, merely tightened her grip on her mother’s sweater, her mind churning with possibilities she was desperately trying to suppress.

"Well, I won’t say much more about it now," her mom finally said, her voice a gentle command. "You can sleep now, and don’t think too much about it all. Just rest."

Iris nodded to her mother’s words. Her mom kissed her forehead, a soft, warm touch that always made Iris feel safe, no matter her age.

"Goodnight, sweetie."

"Goodnight, Mom," Iris replied, her voice thick with exhaustion and unspoken emotions.

Her mom stood up, her movements quiet and graceful, opening the bedroom door and stepping out, closing it with a soft click that echoed in the sudden silence.

Now left alone, Iris was once more a captive of her tumultuous thoughts, the echo of Alexander’s name, and the unsettling warmth of the mark beneath her collarbone...