Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Poppy leans in, a little smirk on her lips. “I’m not sure that’s much of a secret, Detective. I think you’re making it pretty obvious.” She drags her gaze down my chest, lingering at my arms, then lower. Her eyes go huge when she sees exactly how much I’m enjoying this. “Try again.”
I really need to dial this down several notches if I’m going to make it through this fucking dinner. “I hate sushi.”
She laughs. “You liar. You ate three rolls the other night.”
“And I’ll do it again, if you ask.”
She watches me, her eyes softening. “That’s kind of sweet, actually.”
Our salad comes, and we eat. Or rather, she eats and I mostly watch her. She moans when the steak arrives, actually moans, and I have to fight the urge to reach across and pull her into my lap.
The conversation slides easily from classes to case files to Moonpie and Pepper. She asks about my brother and I give her the edited version. She talks about growing up in foster care and how it taught her to be self-sufficient. I want to hear every story.
By the time the waiter drops the check off at our table, it hits me that I never want this night to end.
She leans over, all secretive and close. "So. About that dessert. Your place or mine?"
I meet her gaze, steady. That’s an easy choice "Mine. My brother is babysitting Pepper so we have the place all to ourselves.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
POPPY
We walk down the hallway to his apartment with our fingers laced together, and my heart is flat-out sprinting. Every cell in my body is on high alert.
He opens the door, and the second we’re inside, he turns and pulls me into his arms. His eyes search my face like he’s memorizing me.
He brushes my curls back from my cheek. “Are you sure about this?” he asks. The gruffness in his voice makes it clear he’s hanging on by a thread.
I stand on my tiptoes and smile into his eyes. “Shut up and kiss me.” I have never wanted anything so much in my entire life.
His mouth comes down on mine, slow and careful at first. I gasp, and he takes full advantage, tilting my chin up and deepening the kiss until I’m drowning. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, teasing, claiming, and my knees just give up entirely. He picks me up, no effort at all, like I’m made of feathers, and walks straight down the hallway to his bedroom.
He sets me on my feet next to his bed and runs his thumb along my jaw, tilting my face up. “You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he murmurs against my lips. Then he kisses me again, all heat and hunger and raw need.
His hands move down, gripping my ass, and he pulls me closer until there’s nothing between us but the friction of our bodies and the insane need that’s been building all night. He breaks the kiss, panting, and buries his face in my neck.
“Jesus, Poppy,” he groans, and the sound of his voice saying my name almost sends me over the edge. Electricity flows down my spine as he drags me closer, and his hard cock presses hard against my stomach. My breath hitches. He’s so close, I can feel his heart beating against mine, both of us wound so tight we’re about to combust.
He leans his forehead against mine, eyes dark and blown. “I want you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I’ve never wanted anything so bad.”
He sets me on the edge of the bed and drags my legs apart. When he kneels between my legs, I thread my hands into his hair and tug his mouth back to mine. He groans again, deeper, and his hips rock against me, slow and deliberate.
His hands slip under the hem of my dress, finding bare skin, and I shiver. My hands are not idle either—undoing the buttons of his shirt, running over the hard lines of his chest. He feels like marble under my palms, warm and alive and real.
He kisses down my jaw, my neck, the hollow between my breasts. He lifts the dress over my head and tosses it somewhere, not caring where it lands. I’m shaking, but not from nerves. From the heat building between us, the friction of skin and breath and want. Oh my God. I’m about to short-circuit. My heart is actually doing somersaults as Jack’s hands map every inch of my body. I feel like a live wire, all amped up and trembling under his touch. He’s kneeling between my thighs, and the look in his eyes is so intense I nearly combust on the spot.
He leans up and drags the tip of his nose along my jaw. “Fuck, kitten,” he growls, and the sound goes straight to my core. “You’re even better than I dreamed.”