“No I’m not.”
She pulls back just far enough to look me in the eye, her smile pure trouble. “You are.”
Maybe I am. It’s possible. Because I’ve never wanted someone like this.
Fuck.
Is this love?
No.
There’s no fucking way—I’ve known her less than two weeks.
People do not fall in love that soon.
I rest my forehead against hers, trying to steady the thrum of anticipation that’s clawing through me. “Poppy…”
She blinks up at me, still breathless, still close. “Yeah?”
Ugh.
Shit.
“Nothing.”
Then I kiss her again, because I don’t know what else to do with myself. I press her back against the tile and drop to my knees. Spread her thighs with my hands, holding them apart.
Go straight for her pussy.
Sucking hard, worshipping her.
I lose myself in her.
Not just in the shape of her body or the heat of her skin—but in the way she responds to me. The way she whispers myname. The way her knees shake and her breath stutters, her voice getting caught somewhere in her chest before spilling out in broken syllables.
So fucking good…
poppy
. . .
Istare at Turner, who’s about to pull a T-shirt over his head.
“Are you actually getting dressed?”
“We said we were going to behave,” he whispers gruffly, the hem halfway over his abs.
I laugh. “Whosaid that? Not me.”
He takes one step closer to the bed, shirt dangling from his fingers. “You’re going to get us caught.”
“How?” I whisper back. “I can be quiet.” I lock my lips and throw away the key. “See?”
“You can be quiet,” he allows. “But I’ve also heard the volume of your moaning.”
Ahh—themoaning.
The yummy, delicious moaning.
