“Me too.” She brushes her lips over my shoulder. “It was so good, wasn’t it?”
I smile sleepily, turning my face to hers. “It was fucking amazing.” Something occurs to me, and I lean back, my gut twisting. “We didn’t use anything…”
Poppy waves a hand. “I’ve been on birth control since I was seventeen.” She rubs her cheek on my shoulder with a little laugh. “What, did you think I was riding you bareback and letting myself get pregnant?”
Jesus Christ.
“I don’t know,” I murmur. The thought of filling her womb with my seed, making her belly grow, makes my dick twitch to life again. I shove the image away, rising from the floor. I’ve never had that thought about a woman, and now isdefinitelynot the right time.
And as much as I don’t want her to, I need Poppy to leave. I need her to go to her room, so I can sleep. Alone. So we can forget this ever happened. So I can look my daughter in the eye tomorrow. I worry it’s already too late.
Poppy senses her cue and rises too. “I should go back to my room. I know I can’t stay.”
“I wish you could, but…”
“I know.” She touches her lips to mine softly, then retreats. Somehow in the dark she finds her nightgown and slips it on. “Goodnight, Wyatt.” Then she’s gone.
And I’m left, feeling more alone than I have in a long time.
25
Poppy
Back in my room, I fall into a dreamless sleep, exhausted by the events of the evening and the three-hour time difference from the East Coast. The sun wakes me the next morning, spilling through the drapes I forgot to close last night, and I blink in the brightness, trying to get my head on straight. In the light of day, everything feels different. Part of me wonders if last night even happened, but the pleasurable ache between my thighs is proof that it did.
Images flash through my mind—Wyatt pressing me against the door of the limo, his mouth and hands on me as we drove home, him moving over me in the darkness, on the floor.
God, we had sex on thefloor. Like animals.
And it was the hottest fucking sex of my life.
Heat blooms between my thighs as I replay what we did, the dirty way he spoke to me, but I shake it off, rising from the bed. I shower quickly, hoping I might get the chance to pop into Wyatt’s room before breakfast to clear the air and see where we stand, but his door is open when I enter the hall, and there are voices in the kitchen.
I sigh, padding out to the kitchen, where Bailey smiles at me over her coffee.
“Morning! How’d you sleep?”
I lock eyes with Wyatt across the room, and my heart trips over itself. His hair is damp from the shower, falling lazily across his forehead. The white T-shirt he wears clings to his muscular torso, contrasting with the dark ink covering his arms and hands, but there’s something different, too. His skin looks brighter, and there’s a flush to his cheeks, dynamite in his gaze. This is what Wyatt looks like after a night of passionate sex, and somehow he’s even hotter.
Fuck. I can’t believe I had sex with that man last night.
You like feeling my cock buried inside you?
“Poppy?” Bailey asks, tilting her head in amusement. I tear my gaze from her father, clearing my throat.
“Good. Great,” I say, shoving Wyatt’s filthy words from my head and painting on a smile. “I slept… very well.”
In my periphery Wyatt lifts his mug of coffee to his mouth, and I resist the urge to look at him, to see his expression. Is he thinking about what we did, too? Is he thinking about how good it felt?
“Us too,” Bailey says, oblivious, leaning her head against Dean’s chest. He drops a kiss on her forehead, and I look away. I’ve never been jealous of Bailey and Dean before, but in this moment I wish I could do the same—could walk across to Wyatt and lean into him, kiss him.
“What’s the plan for today?” Dean asks, sliding me a cup of coffee. I give him a grateful nod.
“I thought we could hang by the pool?” Bailey suggests. “It’s such a nice day.” She glances at Wyatt, who hasn’t said a word since I’ve arrived. “What do you think, Dad?”
Wyatt doesn’t look at his daughter. “Sounds good,” he mumbles. My heart sinks at the way he studies his coffee cup, his shoulders sagging. I know him well enough to know he’s drowning in guilt. I want to go to him, to hold him close and tell him everything is fine, but I know I can’t.
Dean sets a plate of eggs in front of me, and I stare at the food, my stomach tilting. My appetite has vanished.
