Grabbing What She Can

Roy had barely managed to crawl into the back seat before Iris was already naked. Clothes lay scattered across the floor of the minivan without ceremony or care. Pink tank top tangled with grey leggings. Sneakers kicked halfway beneath the middle row. Bra and underwear discarded like obstacles she couldn't be bothered to step around twice.

None of Iris' attention lingered on any of it.

Every ounce of focus had narrowed onto Roy.

The cramped interior **** him to crouch awkwardly as he squeezed between the seats. One knee bumped plastic hard enough to sting. His hip clipped a cupholder. Somewhere in the process, Roy caught himself thinking that if somebody walked past the van right now, he'd probably die on the spot from embarrassment.

Then Iris looked at him again. Embarrassment lost immediately. She was stunning.

Not polished in the artificial way magazine covers tried to manufacture. This was something warmer. More alive. Blonde bob slightly mussed already from kissing. Makeup still perfect somehow despite the frantic energy between them. Yoga-toned body shifting impatiently toward him as though waiting even a few more seconds felt unbearable.

And those breasts...

Christ.

Roy understood the female anatomy that breasts like those did not grow naturally in the wild. He wondered if it had been her idea, or her husband George's, to make such a large investment in Iris' beauty. Whoever it was had taken an already beautiful woman and decided that her beauty should be weaponized further.

Mission accomplished.

Before Roy could fully settle onto the rear bench, Iris reached for his belt.

No hesitation.

No teasing.

Fingers worked frantically at the buckle, then the button, then the zipper, each motion rushed by urgency rather than finesse.

"Iris..."

"I know, I know," she muttered breathlessly, laughing a little at herself while dragging his pants downward. "I'm being aggressive. I just... God, I don't want to waste time."

Time.

Everything with her kept circling back to time. Too little of it. Too much pressure from it. A woman trying desperately to carve out space for herself between obligations before the clock swallowed her whole again.

Roy understood, but that understanding came bundled tightly alongside guilt. Because none of this was real. Or rather, it was real to her. That made it worse.

The feelings flooding Iris right now weren't chosen. They'd been **** into existence by careless magic and one stupid drunken wish muttered at the wrong bar to the wrong bartender.

Varoonth.

Even thinking the name irritated him now. For somebody supposedly magical, the bartender had been spectacularly unhelpful about the horrifying emotional chaos he'd dumped into Roy's life.

Still, Roy thought he finally understood the rules. Sex triggered the reset. Quick intimacy severed the magical attachment before it rooted too deeply. Agnes had proven that much. So had Tabitha, Charlotte, and Claire. Unless the feelings somehow became real, moved past the illusion the wish created and truly into the territory of the heart. Zara, Elaine, and Michelle had all found their way there.

Different outcomes. Different timing. A pattern.

Which meant Iris could still be saved from this. All Roy had to do was go through with it. And honestly, that wasn't proving especially difficult.

His pants hit the floor of the van.

Iris made a soft, eager noise in the back of her throat as she tugged down his boxer shorts next. Then suddenly both hands were clutching at the front of his shirt while she manoeuvred him backwards onto the bench seat with surprising determination.

The minivan rocked faintly from the movement. Somewhere far away, Roy's teenage self was probably screaming.

A second later Iris climbed directly into his lap. Warm skin pressed against him immediately. Bare thighs. Bare stomach. Bare breasts against his now opened shirt as her arms looped around his neck and her mouth found his again.

God.

She really was an incredible kisser.

Experience showed in every movement. Confidence too. Iris kissed like somebody fully aware of the effect she had on people and completely unafraid to use it. Slow one second. Hungry the next. Little sounds escaping into his mouth that made thinking increasingly difficult.

Poor George.

Or lucky George.

Possibly both.

Roy's hands settled instinctively against her waist as the kiss deepened. Soft skin beneath his palms. Warm. Real. Desired. Dangerously easy to lose himself in.

One of Iris' hands slipped downward between them. Soon her fingers wrapped around his erection. The sensation dragged a low sound out of Roy before he could stop it.

"Mm," Iris murmured approvingly against his lips. "Yeah. That's what I was hoping for."

Then she paused. Not fully stopping, just enough to lean back slightly and meet his eyes. For the first time since they'd reached the van, uncertainty flickered across her expression.

"I'm sorry I'm rushing this," she itted quietly. "I really do want to take my time with you. It's just..." A frustrated little laugh escaped her. "George won't be gone forever and I feel like Cinderella if Cinderella wanted to climb her boyfriend like a tree."

Roy couldn't help laughing at that. The sound relaxed her immediately.

"I hope you don't mind if we skip ahead a little," Iris continued, voice softer now. "I just really need you."

Need.

Another word twisted into existence by magic. And yet the vulnerability in her eyes felt heartbreakingly sincere. Roy smiled gently.

"You never have to apologize for wanting me."

The relief that crossed her face hit him harder than expected. Then Iris guided him between her legs.

The moment he slid inside her, her entire body trembled. A sharp gasp escaped her mouth before she buried her face briefly against his shoulder, laughing again, though this time the sound came apart around the edges.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "Okay. Wow."

The van suddenly felt very small.

Windows fogged faintly at the corners. Afternoon sunlight filtered through tinted glass in muted gold bands while the vehicle shifted softly beneath them with every movement. Outside, life continued normally. Cars ing somewhere nearby. Birds calling from the trees. Somebody probably walking a dog less than fifty feet away.

None of it mattered.

For those few heated minutes, the world narrowed down to shared breath, tangled limbs, hurried kisses, and the overwhelming intensity of being wanted. It was frantic, urgent lovemaking. Not performative, not showy, but a **** display, grabbing and holding on to every moment that she could have with Roy.

Iris clung to him like she was trying to memorize the feeling. Roy found himself holding her just as tightly. And when release finally crashed through both of them almost together, she buried her face into the side of his neck with a shaky, exhausted laugh while the last remnants of tension drained from her body all at once.

Silence settled gradually afterward. Not awkward silence. Warm silence. The kind that arrived after emotional storms.

Iris stayed curled against his chest for a long moment, lazily tracing her fingernails along his shoulder while both of them caught their breath.

If circumstances had been different, Roy thought, he might have genuinely fallen for someone like her. Funny. Smart. Beautiful. Confident. A little sharp around the edges in ways that kept conversations interesting.

Instead, she was another casualty of the wish. Another woman caught in the gravitational pull of a magic neither of them truly asked for.

At least now, if Roy was right, she could go back to her life.

Back to George.

Back to her children.

Back to herself.