When he tried to loosen her hold, Iris let him, just enough so that she wouldn’t be keeping him from breathing. She would not let him go entirely, however, and she was still close enough to laugh into the crook of his neck. She never had the wrong person.
Until he figured out she wasn’t just some random lady, she contented herself with hearing his voice (even if he was shouting into her ear), feeling the familiar tickle of his hair against her nose (and breathing in his familiar scent) and just with the knowledge that he was there.