Poppy laughs. “You’re such a romantic. And I’m certain there will be something hard by the end.”

  “Now who’s the romantic?” I tease as I pull her close, moving to the happy, celebratory music. And to be nice, I don’t rub my cock on her . . . much. But I enjoy holding her in my arms, our bodies in tune with one another as the polite inches between us disappear.

  “Mmm, you do know how to move,” Poppy says as her chest touches mine.

  “Only when I have a good partner,” I reply.

  The tempo slows, becoming softly romantic, and I pull her in even closer until Poppy puts her head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat. I close my eyes for a long moment, lost in Poppy, oblivious to everyone and everything around us as we barely sway. That’s not a safe thing for me to do, but she makes me feel like I’m a normal man falling for a very unique woman. She makes me feel like there might be a future for me, for us.

  And even if that’s not true, I want to pretend for a moment.

  A throat clears next to us, and I crack one eye to see Ian standing there, obviously sent by Audrey. He flashes a cocky grin. “May I cut in?”

  Manners require me to say yes. Etiquette requires Poppy to spend a song moving around the floor with him. It’s the kind of artificially polite structure my family has thrived on for generations, and Ian fucking knows it.

  But he, and apparently Aunt Audrey who is sitting at a table along the edge of the dance floor with a wry smirk as she watches, have completely forgotten a key element to civility.

  It only works if everyone plays by the same rulebook. And Poppy and I operate by a totally different set of rules than Ian and Audrey and the rest of the hypocritical members of my family.

  “No.”

  Ian’s smile falters, and he glances over his shoulder to his mother, who waves a hand telling him to get on with it while next to me, Poppy looks amused, not moving from my side. Ian’s eyes cut back to me. “Excuse me?” he says snottily, likely having never been told no in his entire life. “I’d like to dance.”

  But Ian and Audrey seem to have also forgotten one more thing. The notion of asking a man to dance with his woman is ridiculously antiquated. And Poppy is not one to take that sitting down . . . or standing up . . . or any other way.

  “I see,” Poppy says, crossing her arms and giving Ian a withering look of her own. “Don’t you think you should ask me to dance? Unless you want to dance with Connor. No judgment if that’s the case. Other than the whole cousin thing. That’s kinda a sticky wicket.”

  I snicker while Ian finally gives Poppy his attention. Because this isn’t really about her at all. It’s about me. It’s about taking what’s mine. It’s about taking the opportunity to show me in a bad light.

  His fake smile blooms again as he thinks he’s found another way to win against me. “Yes, of course, how gauche of me. Please excuse my errant question, and I shall ask you. Would you care to dance?”

  He holds his arm out, inviting her to slip her hand to his elbow. But Poppy doesn’t move an inch. “No.”

  Her answer is just as flat and dismissive as mine was. His smile flips completely upside down into a frown. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s pretty simple,” Poppy says. “You asked me a question. A question is, by its very nature, allowing for choice and options in answer. And my choice is to say no. Unless you only asked rhetorically and you’re saying that I don’t have the choice in who I want to dance with?”

  Ian flounders at her logic, or maybe it’s the big words like ‘rhetorically’, and out of the corner of my eye, I see that Caylee’s paying attention, grinning. She’s on Team Poppy, or Team Connor, or whatever we are.

  Ian flushes. “No.”

  “Exactly,” Poppy says. “No. That’s my answer, Ian. Now run along back to Mommy and tell her that her scheming is transparent and mean-spirited.”

  Ian starts to turn, but Poppy calls him back. “Ian? You can tell her no too.”

  Ian laughs like that’s ridiculous and scurries off the dance floor before any more attention can come his way. Poppy watches him, then turns back to me, shrugging. “Can’t save them all.”

  I laugh softly, pulling her back into my arms to continue our dance and looking into her sparkling eyes. “You’re amazing.”

  “Thank you.”

  I almost stop there. Maybe I should. But before I can stop it, I give her a little pebble of my soul too. One even more important than the one I gave Caylee. “I think you’re saving me.”

  Poppy’s smile falters for a moment before she lifts onto her tiptoes to give me a soft, tender kiss. It feels different this time, deeper and more meaningful. And more dangerous, but her lips’ accepting mine so openly washes away my concerns, letting hope get a foothold.

  After, she giggles and whispers, “I flipped off Audrey while I was kissing you. I know it’s juvenile, but it makes me feel better.”

  I blink and look over to see Ian trying to appease Audrey, who is fuming visibly but too concerned about appearances to actually do anything about it other than shoot us a sneer of distaste.

  I flip her off too, giving her a bonus wink. “You’re right. That does feel better.”

  We go back to our seats, enjoying the festivities and the food until it’s time for toasts. Caylee, perhaps wisely, doesn’t ask me to toast them, but when it’s time to throw the flowers, Poppy goes out there on the dance floor with the rest of the single women, ready to play wide receiver. The women are good-naturedly volleying for position, and though I can’t hear them, I think there’s a fair amount of smack talk going on out there.

  Caylee looks over her shoulder one last time, smiling at her guests, and then takes three practice swings. Three . . . two . . . one. The bouquet arcs high into the air, nearly catching on a chandelier, and everyone dives for it at the same time, bouncing into and off each other. It seems Poppy was right about the mosh pit, after all. And there she is, right in the middle of it.

  The flowers bounce along the grasping hands to tumble to the dance floor, where the women scramble for it like football players going after a greased fumble. Caylee hikes up her dress and scoots back from the incoming wave of women with a shout encouraging them to ‘get it!’

  It’s a heap of tulle, lace, and pretty dresses, but Poppy squirms over and around them, dodging and weaving before popping up with the slightly crushed flowers in her hands. “Boo-yah!” She holds it up high in triumph, and the other women laugh, instantly realizing that they were going ham over a dozen roses they could buy at the grocery store.

  But it’s about the symbolism and tradition.

  Caylee's clapping, and when she catches my eye, she mouths to me, “I like her. Don’t fuck up.”

  Poppy returns to the table holding the bouquet like a trophy. “I caught it!”

  I pull her down, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Well, you grabbed it off the floor.”

  “Same difference. It’s mine, and you know what that means,” she sing-songs happily.

  For a moment, the whole thing feels . . . real. Like she’s really mine, like we’re really engaged, like we’re actually going to get married.

  It’s a great gift from Caylee to me, even if she doesn’t know she’s giving it.

  Chapter 19

  Connor

  “Tonight was amazing,” Poppy says as we climb in my truck to leave the reception.

  Across the console, I take her hand and trace her fingers with my own. I need to touch her, want to keep this feeling of a fairy tale come to life alive inside me for as long as I can.

  We’re about halfway home when Poppy turns to me. “Connor, pull over.”

  “What?” I ask, immediately worried. “Are you okay?”

  “Pull over up there,” she says, pointing to a spot just off the road. I do, noticing that we’re in a pretty out of the way turn off. The reception was held up in the hills surrounding town, and right now, we’re practically alone with no headlights visible for miles.

  I shift into park and turn to Poppy. “Poppy, I—”

  My words are cut off as she practically lunges across the center console, kissing me hard. I kiss her back, running my hands through the thickness of her hair to hold her close so I can take her mouth even deeper.

  She’s my air, my breath, my being, and I can’t get enough of her. It’ll never be enough.

  I can’t explain it. It’s just . . . Poppy.

  I’ve wanted her all night, maybe even longer. Maybe since I last left her heaven, but I’ve been trying to be good, waiting until we got back home at least. But the time for waiting is over. She wants me right here, right now, and I’m more than willing to give her what she wants.

  “Wait,” I growl as she tries to crawl over the console between us and bangs her head on the roof. “Back seat.”

  Poppy’s eyes cut to the back bench seat of my truck, and she grins wide, her teeth flashing in the dim light from the dash. “Meet you back there . . . naked.”

  I laugh as she dives over the console, going ass over head as she climbs through the cab. I’ve got my pants undone before I get my door unlocked, yanking my shirt open Superman-style as my feet hit the dirt. Buttons go flying, but fuck it.

  Poppy’s upright and waiting for me when I get the back door open, and through the miracle of a well-designed dress, she’s already nude except for a pair of blue see-through panties that frame her hips deliciously.

  I climb in, closing and locking the door behind me, and the dome light dims. We don’t need it, anyway. I already know Poppy’s body by memory, and I don’t want to risk anyone else seeing us from the side of the road. Because she’s mine.

  “Come here,” I tell her, shifting my body around. I don’t want to crush her underneath me, so I sit upright with my legs spread wide.

  Poppy’s petite height comes into good use as she crawls into my lap and settles in on bent legs to press her core against my throbbing cock. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her down again and again, teasing us both with what we desperately want.

  She moans loudly in my ear, and I squirm, trying to find leverage in the tight back seat to give her more of a stroke, even through the layers of our clothes.

  We don’t say anything, but as our mouths find each other, the frantic pace grows softer, more tender. The kiss deepens, but there’s no need to rush. We can stay parked here all night if we have to, exploring each other’s mouth and body.

  Her hand reaches down between us to take me in her hand, her breathy gasp when she finds me rock hard exciting me even more. “For you, Poppy.”

  She arches her back, giving herself room to work me, and I slide my hands down her body, teasing and plucking her nipples, grabbing her ass roughly, and scratching down the backs of her thighs. Her hips buck instinctually, telling me where she wants my touch. Her panties are a thong, and when I pull them to the side and slip my hand down toward her cleft, I find her soaked.

  “For you, Connor.”

  A spasm of pleasure rocks through me, almost making me come instantly. But I hold off, not nearly ready to be done with her this quickly.

  Her hand strokes me up and down, and I match her measured pace with my own finger, dipping into her entrance to feel her heat. She moves to kiss down my chest and rearrange herself in the seat beside me. Still on her knees, she bends forward, her tongue leaving a wet trail over my skin before she swallows me in the dark.

  It’s heaven. I can barely see her head move in the moonlight that filters through the windows, but that only adds to the pleasure. All I can feel is the sensation of her tongue swirling around my head, her lips on my shaft, and the softness of her hair in my hand as I guide her up and down my aching cock.

  “Fuck,” I groan.

  I can’t say anything else, my brain so overwhelmed that I can barely make any conscious sound at all.

  I just give myself to Poppy, relishing the pleasure she’s giving me until I’m on the edge and tightening my fingers in her hair, freezing her.

  “You,” I whisper, and she pulls back, climbing into my lap once more. I pull her face to mine and kiss her until she whimpers, needing me as much as I need her. I tug her panties to the side, and there’s nothing but soft, slick heat as she lowers herself onto me, both of us freezing as she takes me fully.

  In the darkness, we lock eyes. She’s undoing me, years of walls falling away like rubble, leaving me vulnerable. She’s inside me . . . my heart, my soul. And I can see a direct, open line to her heart too. Whatever walls she has are nowhere near as impenetrable as mine, but I still recognize the precious gift she’s offering by allowing me in.

  I learned a long time ago to trust my gut, even when my mind says its wrong. And Poppy is the right thing for me . . . it's fast, crazy, and a completely ridiculous idea, but completely true regardless.

  She’s mine, and the ruby on her finger means something more now. I’m not sure what yet, and that’s something I’ll have to discuss with her, but all I know is that she’s a hell of a lot more than a one-day fiancée, and this is about so much more than a laptop.

  Poppy rolls her hips, grinding her clit against me as we kiss again.

  I know what this will require. I need to tell her everything, the good and the bad. I’ll have to tell her about The Black Rose, and maybe even Mr. Big. But I want to be completely bare with her, no fronts or façades, because I’ve never been that with anyone.

  Maybe not even myself.

  But she deserves to know the truth. All of it.

  I bite back the words that are rising because I don’t want there to be any doubt about their honesty when I have to expose the dirty deeds she doesn’t know about yet. So I save them, for now. But I can make sure she knows how I feel. I’ve got to do that. What I can’t say, I pour out in my touch, my hands tracing all the places I know Poppy likes, my fingers pinching her sensitive nipples and then gripping her hips as I start thrusting up into her. She rides me, her soft cries of pleasure giving me what I need.

  Her whimpers are a salve for my soul.

  I buck my hips harder and faster, driving deep. She falls forward, catching herself with her forearms on the back window, and I take advantage, sucking a stiff nipple into my mouth.

  “Connor!” she gasps as she hovers on the edge of coming, her pussy tightening around me until it’s nearly like a vise. I thrust up, my balls tight and my body on edge, but I wait there in that blissful moment for her. I swat the round globe of her ass, and she falls apart. “Yesss” she hisses.

  When I feel her orgasm in her quivering walls, I release myself. Maybe I say her name, maybe I don’t, but as I explode inside her, I know that I’ll never be the same. She’s changed me for good and there’s no going back.

  I hold her close, our hearts beating in time as she sags against me. The only sound is our panting breaths until . . .

  A truck passes by, his horn loud and obnoxious and making us both jump like teenagers caught misbehaving.

  She laughs when she realizes what it was, calling out, “Glad you weren’t a few seconds earlier, asshole. I would’ve been really pissed if you’d messed up my big O.”

  “I don’t think he heard you,” I say gently, running my fingers through her hair and kissing her forehead as my satisfied cock deflates. Slipping out of her is bittersweet, a loss of heaven, but I pray I’ll be invited back in . . . forever.

  She groans, feeling the loss too.

  “Your knees okay?” I whisper, and she wiggles weakly.

  “I don’t know yet. I lost feeling in my feet several minutes ago, but it didn’t seem important at the time,” she tells me with a shrug.

  I smile and reach for her toes to rub the circulation back into them, but that is most definitely the wrong thing to do because she squeals sharply and flails, falling over in the seat. “I’m ticklish! Don’t touch my feet!”

  She somehow ends up kicking the window, leaving a Poppy-sized footprint right on the glass.

  “Oops!” she says with wide eyes.

  “You know what that looks like, don’t you?” I ask, and she tries to swipe it off. “No, leave it. I kinda like it there.”

  Instead of leaving it alone, she presses her palm to the glass too. “Now people will wonder what kind of crazy positions you’re getting into in the back of your truck. They’ll be doing . . . this . . . and this . . .” She holds her hand up one way, her foot tilted the other, and then switches them around, trying to match the two prints at the same time.

  “You’re crazy,” I tell her with a smile.

  “You’re just now figuring this out?” Her brows are crinkled like I just told her that I learned how to add two plus two.

  I chuckle, running my hand up her thigh and staying really far away from her feet.

  “I want you to stay at my place tonight,” I tell her honestly, the words popping out before I realize I’m thinking them. “I want you in my arms all night.”

  She blinks slowly, like she’s letting my words sink in deep, and then a beaming smile spreads across her face. “I’ll have to let Nut and Juice out before we go to bed, and again first thing in the morning, but I think that can be arranged.”

  Chapter 20

  Poppy

  Smack!

  I can’t help it, I giggle at Connor’s playful swat on my butt. I mean, I did just tweak his nipple when he came in to get me out of bed. But we’d just spent a half hour snuggling, and despite his reminders that we both have deadlines to meet, I didn’t want to get up. Not even when he got up and started coffee, coming back to find me hugging his pillow and inhaling his scent like a creeper.

  “Come on now, the sausage biscuits aren’t going to stay fresh forever,” he mock growls, trying to sound strict and utterly failing. Oh, I’m sure to most people he still sounds like a stern, grumpy asshole.

  But I know him now, and I know that growl. It’s his way of saying, ‘Let me feed you and take care of you.’ But only with me. To everyone else, that growl is still a warning sign of impending doom.