Poppy nods. “She’s loyal to a fault.”
“That’s a good friend.”
“She is,” Poppy agrees. “I got lucky. She’s one of the good ones.”
I trace slow circles against the blanket with one finger, pretending it’s not because I want her to touch me, all the while stealing glances at her face.
“You’re the farthest thing from boring, Poppy,” I say at last. “You’re electric.”
Her mouth parts, stunned, and then she gives this tiny, wrecked laugh like she doesn’t know what to do with the compliment.Like it’s too big to hold.
I reach out, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear without thinking.
She leans into my touch.
I wonder what would happen if I let my thumb skim along her jaw. If I leaned in closer. If I?—
No, dude.
Boundaries.
You’re roommates.
You’re a fucking idiot.
Eventually, she yawns, flopping onto her back, gazing up at my ceiling, the straps of her white tank top falling down her arms, drawing my eyes to the peaks of nipples flirting with the thin fabric.
“You’re good at this,” Poppy mutters.
“At what?”
“This.” She waves a hand vaguely between us. “Listening. Affirming. Not making things weird.”
Oh, sweetheart—if only you knew all theveryweird things that I want to do to you.
I stretch out beside her, one arm slung behind my head, pretending like I’m relaxed when every muscle in my body is wired tight and on high alert.She’s close enough that if I turned my head, I could breathe her in, memorize the scent of her shampoo, kiss the corner of her mouth before she even had time to gasp.
She’s beautiful like this.
No make-up.
Hair fanning around her like a halo, across my pillow.
Smooth skin.
Smooth legs.
Does she know what she's doing to me? How badly I want to roll over, drag her under me, and find out if her mouth tastes as sweet as it looks?
And when her fingers skim lightly against my forearm, the tiniest accidental touch, it’s a goddamnrevelation.
My chest aches with it.
My cock aches with it.
poppy
. . .
