“As you’re aware, I’m happy to take it off.” And he did, pulling the wet shirt over his head, leaving his upper body naked.
Poppy had seen it before, but never so close. She reached out, running her hands over his skin, encountering a few scars and marks along the way.
“Was this from the bullet?” she asked, coming to one round spot that was lighter in color than the rest of him.
He nodded. “There’s a matching scar on my back.”
“I’m glad you lived,” she said, feeling suddenly very shy.
“Me too. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here with you.”
The next kiss had Poppy dizzy with longing. He ran his hands through her hair and pushed her gently against the desk, which was bolted to the floor.
“Have a seat,” he told her, lifting her so she could perch on top of the desk. “I need to get the rest of my clothes off.”
“Oh, I’m generally clever enough to figure things out,” she replied, reaching out to unbutton his falls.
“I assure you I know how to dress and undress myself.”
“Shut up,” she said, and to her surprise, he did.
Soon, she’d discarded every damp, sea-salt-soaked, chill-inducing article of clothing and dropped it in a heap. The result was a magnificently nude man standing in front of her as if he did this every day. Poppy felt her cheeks flaming as she took in the sight of him.
“Now you,” he said. “I’d hate for you to get sick and die because I couldn’t get your clothing off.”
“Ah, a true gentleman,” she noted. “But let me do it. That way I won’t have to get cross at you if something tears.”
Standing up, she peeled the gown off gently, knowing that she had no replacement.
He watched, intensely interested in every move. Stays and shift and stockings all followed, until Poppy was wearing nothing at all.
“No scars,” he said, with a smile.
“Well, there’s this one.” Poppy pointed to a tiny ridge on the top of her ankle. “During a game of hide and seek at Wildwood Hall, I tripped and fell on some loose paving stones.”
“And you lived to tell the tale.”
Poppy didn’t know why she was smiling like an idiot, so she glanced quickly around the room.
“That bed looks…small,” she noted. In fact, it was more like a nook in the wall, designed to keep one person from falling out—not to help two fall in.
“I’ve typically used the floor for this sort of thing,” he admitted. “Or the wall. Or the desk.”
Poppy considered the options, wondering exactly how each differed when it came to lovemaking. “Let’s start with the floor.”
He swallowed. “Start with. Yes.”
A moment later he had yanked the mattress and blankets out and arranged them on the floor.
“You’ve got the procedure down,” she said.
“Not really. I don’t do this very often,” he said. “Not here, anyway. Actually, not at all the past year, I don’t think—”
“Carlos, you don’t have to explain your life to me,” Poppy told him softly. “It’s not as if I expect you to be some blushing virgin.”
“Good, because in that case I’d disappoint you.”
“I doubt you’ll disappoint me at all.” She kissed him. “Now, let’s get to all this ruination, shall we? I’m very curious about it.”
