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Poppy climbs up on the bed and moves over to make room for me. She pats the mattress, looking at me expectantly. I don’t even bother to take off my shirt before I join her. I adjust the pillows and lean back against the headboard. If she were a bunny, she’d already be naked and ready to straddle me. If she were Tash, there’d be someone else involved.
Facing me, Poppy slides in close, kneeling beside me until her hip is against my knee. She doesn’t unbutton my shirt. She doesn’t put her hand on my thigh, or stroke my hard-on through my pants—all of which might actually be welcome at the moment.
Instead she skims the contour of my jaw with the back of her hand and traces my features with her fingertips. “How does this feel?
I close my eyes for a second. “Nice. Good.”
Her fingers travel the same slow pattern on my skin until they’re replaced with her lips. “And this? Does this feel nice?”
“It feels better than nice.”
“Better than nice sounds good.” Her lips move from my temple to the corner of my mouth. I turn my head and slide my fingers into her hair so she can’t take her mouth away.
I’m the one who rearranges her body so she’s straddling my lap. Her dress rides up high on her thighs. I run my hand along the bare, pale expanse of her legs, but I don’t go any farther than the hem.
I just kiss her. I’ve never really gotten used to doing that. It’s too intimate, and it invites too much in the way of hand-to-skin contact, because that’s when they’re liable to wander. But with Poppy, I don’t mind. She makes these sweet, soft sounds and arches her back, pressing her breasts against my chest. In doing this, she also presses up against my hard-on. I groan into her mouth—it’s a loud, pained sound. I’ve been hard since I picked her up.
Her hands, which I realize have been smoothing up and down my arms, freeze.
“That’s not a bad sound,” I reassure her, squeezing her thighs.
She leans back, but returns to press a kiss on my lips as she runs her fingers through my hair, her short nails dragging down the sides of my neck. Poppy traces the collar of my shirt and plays with the top button.
“How would you feel about me taking this off now?”
“I’d feel okay about that.” I run a finger under the strap of her dress. “Can I take this off now, too?”
She smiles. “Would it be better if I go first?”
“Maybe, aye?” I haven’t let anyone else undress me, ever. Not even Tash.
Poppy doesn’t look away as she lifts one arm and pulls the hidden zipper on the side of her dress down.
I sit up straighter and kiss along her shoulder as I move the strap aside, revealing an emerald green bra, nearly the same color as her dress. I mutter a low curse and bite her shoulder when my cock kicks.
Poppy sucks in a breath.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
I slide my hands under the hem, over her hips and stomach, and pull the dress up. Emerald green lace panties make an appearance, followed by the matching bra.
I lift the fabric over her head and groan. If I allowed myself to have a type, Poppy would be it. She’s curvy, her lush breasts straining against the delicate lace cups.
“Fuckin’ell.” I drag gentle fingertips over the swell of her breasts and drop my face into her cleavage. She smells like lavender and something sweet. I want to put my mouth on every inch of her. And my hands. Any part of her I can touch with any part of my body is what I want. Need. Crave.
Eventually I stop nuzzling her breasts and lift my head. “You’re fucking perfect, Poppy.”
Her cheeks are hot pink. “I’m not really.”
“Perfect. Every inch.”
“I could probably stand to go to the gym more.”
“Fuck the gym. I’ll be your workout. As many days of the week as you want. I’ll be the best workout you’ve ever had.”
She laughs and goes for the first button on my shirt. She’s slow about the process, her fingertips grazing bare skin each time until she pulls my shirt from the waistband of my pants and parts the two sides.
She hums. “Your body is incredible, but I guess you already know that.”
“It serves its purpose.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“It got me a great career and here, in your bed, with you.”
“Your body didn’t get you into this bed.” Poppy plays with the tails of my shirt.
“No?”
She shakes her head.
“Then what did?”
Her expression is gentle. “Your sweetness.”
I laugh. “I hate to break it to you, precious, but I’m pretty fucking far from sweet.”
“I disagree. You’ve been nothing but sweet with me.” She grins and then grows serious. “I want to touch you.”
