“Uh, thanks, ladies, but I gotta get going now.”

  “But your book!” Jasmine reminds me before rolling her eyes. “Fuck it, you’ll get it done.”

  “Yeah,” Connor growls. “I’ll make sure she finishes, but we’ve got some shit to straighten out first.”

  Daysha snickers. “Just make sure she can form a coherent thought when you’re done, and maybe still type, or else you’re going to be the one taking dictation!”

  “Dick-tation!” Becca repeats, putting a lewd emphasis on the first syllable. “I’m stealing that one!” She holds a finger out, implying an erect penis, and then makes a tapping motion as though someone could actually type with their dick.

  “All yours,” Daysha tells her easily. “That’s not really my style in my books.”

  While Becca and Jasmine encourage Daysha to introduce an occasional light moment into her super dark, twisted stories, Connor shoves my laptop into my bag and slips it over his own head to carry it. Holding his hand out to me, he entwines his fingers with mine and kisses my temple. It feels special and intimate, as though I’m precious to him.

  “Let’s go home.”

  Chapter 28

  Connor

  As soon as the door to Poppy’s place opens, all hell breaks loose. I’m swarmed by a duo of fluffy, white-furred hype machines who yap and jump and smile big, pink-tongued doggy grins when they realize I’m back. All the while, they completely ignore Poppy, who’s watching the whole scene with a pouty lip. I can almost see the thought bubble over her head reading, ‘what about me?’

  “I see how it is, you ungrateful brats,” she scolds them. She’s amused more than anything else, her eyes smiling even if she sounds disgusted by her pups. “Was Connor feeding you more biscuits than I do?”

  I give Poppy a chance to drop her computer bag on the dining table, then snap my fingers, and both dogs calm instantly and sit at attention, their eyes on me. “Settle . . . good boys.”

  Poppy’s jaw drops open, and her eyes go wide as Nut and Juice sit still as stones, although Juice’s tail is wagging so hard his butt’s going side to side on the carpet. “Show off!” she says, grinning. “Okay, Mr. Dog Whisperer, how’d you do that? Teach me your ways.”

  I lower my hand, ‘releasing’ the boys from their pose as I kneel down and start to scratch them under their chins. After a ridiculously tiny amount of affection, both dogs lie down to give me their bellies. I scratch them there too, praising their excellent behavior. “I had several days to work with them. That and a bag of treats goes a long way. Nut is easy, wants to learn, and Juice wants to do whatever his brother does.”

  I got to know both dogs pretty well during those lonely days while I was separated from Poppy. At first, I’d tried to stay at my place next door and only come over to take care of the boys. But I missed Poppy so much and wanted any connection with her that I could have, so I needed to be in her space. Sitting on her couch, smelling her shampoo, and hugging her pillow were the only things that kept me sane. And kept me from scouring the hotels I know Hunter uses as safe houses to find her.

  When I stand up, Poppy’s eyes are on me and she looks uncertain. I can feel it too. The excitement of the moment we saw each other again is passing, and the questions are rising once again. It helps to know that we’re in the same place emotionally, the declarations of love real and spontaneous, but there’s a lot for us to share. Not all of it is going to be easy and comfortable.

  “Let’s sit down,” I offer, pointing toward the couch. “I know you need to work, but if you can give me a few minutes, I want to tell you everything.” I shake my head. “No, I need you to know everything,” I rephrase, baring my soul with the words. I’ve never been able to tell someone everything, but with Poppy, it’s something I have to do. For myself, and . . . “You deserve that. I want this to be your happily ever after, and that means doing the hard things too.”

  Poppy already looks near tears, but she lets me take her hand and lead her to the couch, where we both sit. Her legs are crisscrossed in front of her, her hands clasped in her lap. She takes a big breath and resolutely says, “Okay, I’m ready. Hit me. All of it.”

  I smile gently, knowing this is going to take fits and starts to get through. I’m not even sure where to begin.

  “First, I want to say I’m sorry,” I begin, getting the most important thing out of the way. “I never meant to lie to you. I need you to know . . . I’m me, the same man you’ve known all along. I told you more than I have anyone in a long time, maybe forever. More truth, more me.” I pause, realizing, “The me that maybe I even forgot existed.”

  “I’m sorry too. I was so . . . blindsided and scared and mad,” Poppy admits. “I felt betrayed, like you’d been using me.”

  I try to interrupt her, but she doesn’t let me get a word in edgewise. “I know you weren’t. Hunter filled me in on some stuff, which is how I ended up at the auction. But not all of it. He let me think you were still . . . your cover.” Her jaw clenches at the memory. “Believe me, I bitched him up one side and down the other about that. Told him if he wanted to keep fucking around, he was gonna find out what’d happen when I shove Gary up his ass. After that, he was much more forthcoming, and I learned a lot when I was waiting for him to close the case.” She sounds proud of herself for intimidating Hunter, and honestly, that’s a scene I would’ve liked to have seen.

  I wonder exactly what Hunter told her, but we can get to that later. That’s probably a conversation I need to have with Hunter, anyway, because Poppy doesn’t have clearance to know about some of our previous work together.

  But beyond the details of every case, I need to make her understand everything that’s happened to bring me to this point, to her.

  “The case,” I continue before I shake my head. In my mind, I go back years. “It started way before that. What I told you was true. I started with petty theft shit as a teen. Then I phased up to art, for real. I was on a job, and Hunter found me. He stopped me.”

  I remember back to that job. I was stealing a post-modern work, one of those ink blot type things that look like something shrinks show their patients. There was a guy who wanted it for his office, so he hired me.

  I was good then, and could’ve done it, but Hunter was watching the guy and knew about his hiring me. He played it cool, waited right until he could observe my skills, and put a hand on my shoulder literally seconds before I was about to make my move.

  “He stopped me and offered me something else—to work with him. Not as a special agent or anything, but as . . . well, a freelancer of sorts, I guess? It’s complicated. But on the right side of the law. I laughed at first, but every time I turned around, there he was. Job after job, he was there, stopping me or frustrating me. I went months without a successful gig. He wore me down, and I agreed. I was a cocky bastard, but he taught me so much. We’ve been partners for years, through dozens of cases. This one, catching Mr. Big, was supposed to be a career-maker. Probably will be for Hunter.”

  Poppy’s brows furrow. “Not yours?”

  I shake my head, not delving into the likely limitations to my career path. That’s not the important part. Poppy is. “That’s what I’ve been working on the last few days. I gave them my notice. I’m out of the field. No more undercover, no theft. Not even for the good guys. Things are different now . . . with you. I don’t want to leave you, to risk us for some old painting.”

  Her mouth drops open in surprise, and then she scrambles into my lap, straddling my hips and holding my cheeks so tightly she’s smushing my lips into a misshapen pucker. “I love you so much,” she says excitedly. “You growly bastard, I love you!”

  The weird, almost insulting nickname is surprisingly cute in its accuracy, and I growl against her mouth as I kiss her back. “I love you too.”

  Poppy and I exchange a long, deep kiss, and when she pulls back, she’s dancing in my lap and grinning. “What are you going to do then? Because I’m no sugar momma!” She taps my nose and lifts a finger to correct herself. “Except to Nut and Juice.”

  I don’t really mind sharing her with the dogs. They are . . . kind of adorable, in a slobbery, wild fluffball sort of way. And currently watching us from the dog bed in the corner after hearing their names.

  “Ironically, I’m moving into a consultant role. For the FBI when they need me, but mostly as a private contractor, planning and evaluating security protocols for museums and collectors with valuable collections.”

  “That’s awesome, but are you okay with that?” Poppy asks. “I don’t want you to regret giving up something you love for me. Whether that’s really stealing or doing it for the FBI.”

  I hold her tighter, not believing my good fortune with Poppy. Not that I would, but I believe I could tell her I’ve decided to go private and truly steal for a living, and she’d tell me to chase my dreams. Acceptance like that is more valuable than anything I’ve ever known. I squeeze her hips, feeling fortunate to be the man she loves. “You’re worth it. And I’ve been thinking a lot.” I swallow thickly, not used to spilling my guts like this and not liking it one fucking bit. “All this started . . .” I search for words. “There were days where I felt empty. I was holding on too tightly, the line getting too blurred again. I lost sight, had no anchor. I needed something. A purpose.”

  That was hard to say, but I’m glad it’s out there now because the truth is . . . “But I’m not anymore. Empty, I mean. Because of you.”

  Poppy considers my words for a moment, then says, “But I am.”

  I freeze.

  She’s empty?

  Am I not enough? Even after all this? Giving up everything I’ve worked for to be with her?

  Even when I love her with all my heart?

  And then she smiles softly and leans in to whisper seductively in my ear, “But we can fix that.”

  When she grinds against me, I can’t help it, I groan, but before I can say anything, she fixes me with a serious gaze. “That was hard for you to say. I know that. I want you to know that I see you and what you’re doing. I appreciate the courage it takes to be that honest, and I love you for it.”

  As she speaks, she lifts and lowers her hips, rubbing her pussy against my thickening cock in delicious torture.

  I growl, thankful for the change in direction. I want her again, need to claim her, and don’t want to talk about this shit anymore. I’m a man of action, and I can show her everything she needs to know by worshipping her, fucking her hard until she comes all over me again and again.

  I push her back to the couch, laying her down and climbing over her. She feels good writhing beneath me, her nails tracing over my chest through my shirt. “Connor.”

  “Poppy.” I look her in the eye, pinning her bucking hips with a firm grip. “I’ll answer any questions you have for the rest of our lives. But right now, what I need is something beyond words.”

  “Good . . . I need more than words too,” she agrees, pulling me down. We kiss, tenderly at first as we let the rift of the past few days dissolve, then warmth and heat and desire flow through our every touch.

  I press into her, letting her feel what she’s done to me, maddeningly close to what we both want considering the layers of fabric between us. “You know,” I tell her as I reach down, pulling her thigh up to cup her ass, “you look great in jeans.”

  Poppy wraps her leg around my back, digging her heel into the globe of my ass. “So do you. But you know what makes you look even better?”

  “When you’re out of them!” we finish together, giggling. I stop, stunned. Me, giggle?

  I can’t even remember the last time I legitimately giggled at anything.

  Poppy recognizes it too, and she traces my lower lip with her thumb before pulling me into another long, lingering kiss. I push the hem of her shirt up, ready to feast on her tits when she suddenly stiffens, swatting my chest. “Wait! That’s it!”

  “Already?” I ask. But then logic returns, and I lift up in confusion, barely having time to get off her before she sits up, jumping off the couch and running to her laptop bag. Yanking it out, she sits at the dining table and begins typing at a furious pace, her fingers almost a blur as she hammers at the keys.

  My cock aches, but I understand what’s gripping her, and watch in awe as she writes. Within moments, her lip disappears behind her teeth as she focuses on the screen. It’s so fucking sexy to see her brilliance in action.

  “I’ve been struggling to get the ending right,” she explains. “But this just inspired me. It's perfect.”

  I make my way to her side to read over her shoulder, adjusting myself in my jeans.

  “Take your cock out,” Poppy says, her eyes not leaving her screen.

  My heart stutters, and my dick goes as hard as steel. Normally, she wouldn’t have to tell me twice, but she seems pretty involved in her book for her order to make sense. “What?”

  “You heard me. Do it.”

  Her fingers keep typing. Mine go to my shirt, pulling it over my head to drop to the floor, and then to my jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them. Once I have room, I shove my underwear down and fist my cock, giving the shaft a long stroke.

  Poppy tears her eyes from her work and licks her lips as she watches me, so I do it again.

  “Feeling inspired?” I growl, my voice getting rougher with need.

  “Fuck my mouth,” she tells me. “While I write this scene, I want it to be ours. Their happily ever after and ours, at the same time.”

  I search her face, and she gives me a temptress’s smile. I run my fingers into her hair, gripping her bun to guide her mouth to my cock. She licks around the head, moaning as she tastes the drop of pre-cum gathered there. “Open,” I order.

  She opens her mouth wide, sticking her tongue out instantly. I slide over her tongue, dipping further and further into the wet warmth of her mouth, and she closes her lips over me, sucking me even deeper.

  Our eyes meet, hunger and love mixing in equal measure. I pull my hips back and thrust in again, watching as her eyes flutter closed. “That’s it. Suck me, but keep typing, Poppy. You’re on a deadline.”

  She whimpers faintly, her hands returning to the keys. They’re moving slowly now, but the words still pour onto the screen. I go quiet, only releasing an occasional grunt when I slip into her throat, so she can think. My eyes flick from the sight of her mouth on me to the screen.

  She’s writing the final sex scene of Trouble in Great Falls. It’s from Amber’s point of view, and I think the thoughts of Poppy’s character are what she’s thinking too. It’s a unique perspective, allowing me to read exactly what’s on Poppy’s mind. On the screen, Ryker pulls Amber’s hair as he thrusts faster into her mouth, and I do the same. Poppy cries out in pleasure, her fingers jumping across the keyboard now.

  Come in my mouth. Come now. Make me yours forever.

  As soon as the words appear on the screen, I’m a goner. “Fuck,” I grit out, pushing my cock deep into her throat to release. She swallows every jet of my cum hungrily.

  My brain is mush. My cock is softening. I have no idea how she can still be typing, even as she licks me clean.

  I take a shuddering breath, leaning over the table to hide how badly my knees are shaking. Poppy grins in satisfaction and then holds up one finger.

  “Almost done.”

  I huff out a laugh, still panting. “Take your time,” I tell her, slipping my cock back into my jeans.

  She types easily and quickly, fully focused on wrapping up the story. She’s got Amber and Ryker together again, with a secure happily ever after, though there’s a hint of more story that’ll obviously be the next Great Falls book. But the best part is when she taps the Enter key twice, centers her cursor, and types . . . The End.

  “Congratulations,” I tell her as she leans back, cracking her knuckles. “You going to send it in to Hilda?”

  “Not quite yet,” Poppy says, turning around to look up at me with shining, happy eyes. “I want to read it in the morning and see what the girls say about what they’re reading for me. But yeah, Hilda’s going to get it by lunch. Barring a spell check, though . . . I’m done!”

  “You deserve a reward,” I say suggestively.

  “Got any donut holes?” she asks.

  I have no idea what she’s talking about. Maybe it’s a writer thing? “Sorry, no. But I have something even better.”

  “Better than donut holes?” Her nose wrinkles cutely, making it obvious that she’s seriously doubting my reward skills. “A cupcake?” she guesses.

  “Better than donut holes or a cupcake,” I vow. “Come here.” I take her hand to pull her from the chair. As soon as she’s standing, I scoop her up, holding her ass while she wraps her arms and legs around me. Against my bare abdomen, I can feel the wet heat of her pussy through her pants. I carry her down the hall to her bedroom, kicking the door closed to keep the dogs out.

  “Three . . . two . . .” I throw her to the bed before I get to one. She keeps me on my toes, so it seems only fair to return the favor. Poppy bounces, her laugh bright and happy.

  “Connor!”

  “You like it. Now, strip and lie down,” I tell her, one brow raised, daring her to disagree or argue.

  But she’s more than agreeable, instantly shuffling around to send her clothes flying all over the room carelessly. Her pants go one way, her shirt another, and her panties end up hanging off the ceiling fan. She wasn’t even wearing a bra. I drop my jeans and underwear too, climbing onto the bed to loom over her.

  From my propped-up position, I watch as she wiggles happily, ready for more. I force my own smile to fade, giving her straight-faced look. “I was here for a few days, you know,” I tell her. “I missed you . . . a lot.”

  Her brow wrinkles in sadness, and she reaches for me, her hands going to my waist. “I missed you too.” She tries to pull me down onto her, wanting the skin-on-skin contact, but I’m not guilting her.

  “You called me your muse, but I found some inspiration being here in your space.” Sex drips from the words, and her eyes glow with fire.