“Did you jack off in my bed?” she guesses.

  I shake my head. It hadn’t felt right to invade her space that much, though I did steal her pillow to sleep with on the couch. “No, but I did do a little . . . recon work. Target—Poppy Woodstock. Mission—learn everything I could about her so I would have half a snowball’s chance in hell of making her mine.”

  She interrupts to say, “I am yours.”

  “I know. But I found some rather interesting things out about you, Poppy.” I reach for her nightstand, and she squeals, pushing me away from it.

  “Oh, my God! You did not go through my drawers! Did you?” A pretty pink blush has risen on her cheeks, but she’s grinning.

  “Of course, I did. And I read Love in Great Falls to find out more about those fairy tale prince types you claim to love. It was all very informative.” It should be a simple declaration, but it’s not. It’s a threat, and she knows it because she knows exactly what’s in her nightstand. And I did learn a little about grand romantic gestures, hence the drop-in to her writer’s group.

  I go for the drawer again, and this time, she doesn’t stop me. If I’m not mistaken, she’s breathing a little faster, actually. Inside, I pull out one of the toys I discovered. At first, it’d scared the shit out of me because I thought it was a dildo. A really huge one. But a little research told me it’s called a ‘magic wand’.

  “What’re you gonna do with that?” Poppy asks breathlessly.

  “You’ll see.” I run the still silent head along her thigh and over her mound, enjoying the way her hips lift, trying to get the toy to touch where she wants. Her lips are slick with juices, perfuming the room with her desire, and I dip the head over her pussy to gather the wetness.

  She moans, “Please, Connor. Turn it on.”

  With an evil grin, I do. And though she asked me to, she jumps in surprise before moaning in disappointment when I lay the buzzing device against her thigh again and not her clit.

  Slowly, I drift up her leg, over her hip, and across her mound, getting closer and closer. When I finally let the vibrations hit her clit, she cries out in relief. “Yes, right there.”

  I hold the vibrator against her, watching her core pulse as I trace my nose along her inner thigh for an up-close view of her heaven. “So fucking sexy, Poppy. I could look at your pretty pussy all day, drink you down until you soak me, and then do it all over again.” I punctuate the words with soft nibbles and kisses along her skin, dipping down to lick and trace her lips.

  Suddenly, her whole body goes tight, the orgasm taking her faster than I expected. Her hands fly to the wand, holding it tight, and together, we ride out her pleasure, her fucking the toy and me pumping against the bed mindlessly. But when she releases her grip, I don’t move it. I keep it right where it is and slide two fingers inside her.

  She’s drenched with her own cum, slippery with it, and I use it to fuck her with my fingers. In and out, slowly at first, letting her get used to the added sensation.

  “Again,” I demand.

  She whimpers, her head thrashing against the pillows and her hands clawing at the sheets. “More . . . more . . .” she begs.

  I stroke my fingers in faster, harder, deeper, bending them to hit that spot on her front wall that makes her fight me. Not to make me stop, but so that I won’t stop.

  She’s close. I can feel her walls clenching down on my fingers tightly, and her whole body is frozen on the edge of release. And then an animalistic sound comes out of her throat, and she spasms wildly. Fresh juices soak my hand, and I keep fucking her with my fingers through the orgasm, but I have to set the wand down, needing to taste her as she comes.

  She’s sensitive to my tongue, bucking against my mouth as she grabs my hair and holds me to her. I suck her clit past my lips and batter it with my tongue, and she cries out. “Oh, my God, Connor. I can’t.”

  “Yeah, you can. It’s been days since I’ve had you.”

  “Then take me,” she bargains. “I want you inside me.”

  I have to squeeze my cock hard and fast to keep from coming right then. “Turn over.”

  She flips over quickly when I give her space, pulling her knees up beneath her but dropping to her elbows to present herself to me. I kneel behind her and lewdly pull her ass cheeks apart to see all of her. She sways her hips to tempt me, but I’m already hers.

  She owns all of me. Always.

  I line up with her entrance, and with one driving thrust, I fill her. She arches her back to take all of me. I don’t give her any mercy. I need to fuck myself onto her soul. All I can offer is the ugly stain of who I am, both past and present, but I hope it’s enough. Because I can be better for her. I already am. She’s changed me, somehow turning what was supposed to only be one day into forever.

  I grip her ass, spreading her to watch my cock disappear into her pussy. It’s a gorgeous sight, one I will never take for granted. I’m on a hair trigger, but I want her to come once more. I want her to come with me.

  I slip my finger down, teasing along her lips to gather her juices and smear it up over her tight pucker. “Poppy?” I ask, wanting permission.

  She nods against the pillow, and I slow my strokes, focusing on gently slipping my finger into her ass. Once seated, my cock in her sweet pussy and my finger in her tight ass, I move in tandem, filling her and then retreating.

  “You okay?”

  Poppy lets out a deep moan of pleasure, so I pick up the pace. I watch her carefully, reading her sounds and movements to learn what she likes in this new way. I learn she doesn’t want it fast the way she wanted my fingers. Instead, she likes it slow and hard, so I slam into her again and again, watching the globes of her ass jiggle with every hammering thrust.

  It doesn’t take long before we’re both hovering on the edge of release. Stars start to flash in the periphery of my vision, but I need one last thing from her. Keeping my punishing pace with my finger and cock, I reach forward with my other hand, gripping her hair. “Tell me, Poppy. Please.”

  It’s not an order or a demand. It’s a begging plea for her to tell me that this is enough. That I am enough. That she believes me, forgives me . . . loves me.

  “I love you.”

  The response is instant, and I fly off the ledge into floating space, growling out, “I love you, too.”

  I feel her pussy milking me as she comes, both of us experiencing so much at once . . . together. Jets of my cum explode from my balls, rushing down my shaft to fill her, and she takes it all greedily.

  Our cries are loud, and distantly, I realize Nut and Juice are singing along with us. But I don’t give a single, solitary fuck about disturbing the neighbors. All that matters is Poppy. All that matters is us.

  Once we’re spent, I lay a soft kiss to her back, and she looks over her shoulder at me. “I do love you, Connor. Exactly who you are and how you are.”

  I pull out of her, guiding her to flip over onto her back. I want her eyes for this. On my elbows over her, I look at her with all seriousness in my eyes. “I love you, Poppy. Maybe even because you’re crazy and wild and impulsive.”

  She laughs, her eyes dancing. “Damn fucking straight, you do. And don’t you forget it.”

  I fall to the side, lying on the bed, and then rearrange her to lie on top of me. Sprawled out across me, her legs askew and laced through mine, she traces her fingernails over my chest.

  I feel a peace and acceptance I never thought possible sweep through me. A future I never dreamed of. All because of Poppy.

  After a few minutes of quiet, she rests her chin on my chest and smiles up at me. “Hey, remember that time I finished a book and you gave me like a gazillion orgasms as a reward?”

  I laugh, the vibration bouncing her. “Yeah, I vaguely remember that.”

  “Yeah, that was awesome, but you know what I want?”

  Holy shit! She wants more? I’m basically a bag of bones, and not the one I think she’s after, but for her, I can rally. There were some other toys in that drawer, and I’ve got my fingers and tongue still.

  “What?” I say slowly.

  “Donut holes,” she says seriously. “Donut holes are the best.”

  I shake my head. “Seriously?”

  She shrugs, but she’s giving me better puppy-dog eyes than either Nut or Juice are capable of.

  “Not a cupcake?” I ask, curious about the hierarchy of her treat reward system.

  She hums, thinking. “Donut holes sound better. We could get some delivered,” she suggests.

  Hell, feeding her donut holes will let me recover for a little bit before we go for the next round. And I could use a sugar rush too.

  “Let me get my phone.”

  Poppy leaps from the bed, obviously nowhere near as exhausted as I am, and skips from the room. Yeah, she literally skips. She returns with both of our phones from the living room, her tits bouncing with every little hop. Standing there naked, she twists and turns as she clicks around on her phone, ordering delivery donut holes.

  I watch, falling even more in love with her by the second. I think it’ll always be like that, falling for her again and again every day, my love deeper and bigger than I imagined and still growing.

  “Delivery ETA is thirty minutes. What should we do until then?” she says, a gleam in her eye.

  I reach down to my cock, giving myself a stroke. I’m already starting to harden from watching her joy at the thought of donuts. “I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  “You know it!” she exclaims with a big grin, jumping onto the bed to straddle me. “Challenge accepted.”

  “Fair warning, you are not answering the door nude, so we’d better make it more like twenty-five minutes to be safe.”

  She winks. “No fun in that. I’ll just send you to answer the door naked.”

  “What if it’s a female delivery driver?” I ask.

  Poppy growls, instantly jealous. “I’ll dig her eyeballs out with a spoon.”

  “Twenty-four now, my little jealous minx,” I say.

  She lifts her hips and settles onto me easily. Suddenly, I don’t give a fuck about donut holes.

  Chapter 29

  Poppy

  “Stop messing with your tie,” I tell Connor as he fidgets again, and I have to reach up to tug his hand away. “It looks perfect.”

  It’s not only the tie. He looks perfect, wearing a black suit that shows off his broad shoulders and long legs and a blue tie that highlights his beautiful eyes. He’s fresh-shaven, a fancy watch gleams on his wrist, and his jaw is clenched in a way that makes him look strong and in control. Other than the nervous squirming, he looks sexy as fuck.

  “Tell me again why we’re doing this.” He sighs heavily, looking back at the truck in the driveway.

  “You wouldn’t make it two steps before I tackled you to the ground. And if you get my dress dirty before dinner, I will be madder than Nut and Juice combined when I promise them a trip to the dog park and then take them to the vet.”

  “Understood.” I don’t think he’d really make a run for it, but he is anxious about tonight.

  He jerks at the tie once more, setting it ridiculously off-center. I growl, and with more force than is needed, I adjust it one last time. “Leave it alone for two whole fucking minutes. After that, fuck it. I won’t care if you take it off and wear it around your forehead. Two minutes, that’s all I’m asking for.”

  Standing here on the front porch of his parents’ house, where we’re having dinner tonight, I want to make a good first impression for the night.

  After all, this was Connor’s request, of all things. It probably blew their minds that he asked, and I’m sure they think it’s to inform them that he’s going to prison for something or another. I bet they think this is a goodbye meal before he turns himself in.

  Me? I’m looking forward to tonight because I want to see the looks on his family’s faces when they find out how wrong they’ve been for so long. I figure it’ll go one of two ways. First option, they’re apologetic for how awful they’ve been, which has a chance at leading to some rebuilding of bridges. I figure that’ll be Caylee because she seems like that sort of person. She loves her big brother, and while it’ll be a shock, she’ll be over the moon to realize he is the good guy she’s always believed him to be.

  Second option, they don’t believe Connor, and I’ll get to watch while he eviscerates them. Which may or may not happen with his parents. If so, I’ll probably even help because while he’ll go all grunty-angry, I’m good at slapping together some spontaneous word diarrhea that’ll make them regret every mean thing they’ve ever said to him. That one might be more fun, but it’ll have worse consequences in the long run because it’d leave Connor hurting even more later.

  So, like the responsible, good-hearted person I am, I’m hoping for option one. For Connor’s sake.

  “Just remember, you’re a good man, and you can live a life of honesty now.” I smooth his lapels and then pat him a bit too hard. Tough love before I lay on the compliments. “And you’re sexy AF.”

  He ignores the compliment, and with an evil twist to his smirk, he clarifies, “Honesty. So I can say anything I want.”

  I roll my eyes, pushing his tie knot up high and tight, choking him a little bit in warning. “No, not insults and mean shit. That’s what we’re trying to stop, remember? You can be honest, but not to a fault. No barbaric, grumpy asshole shit.”

  I let go of the tie slowly, daring him to disagree, but he tilts his head and adjusts the knot back to a less constricting position before taking a deep breath. “Conan once said he preferred barbarians to polite society because a man’s a lot more respectful when he knows he might get an axe to the head.”

  “Well we don’t have an axe,” I remind him, “and Gary’s at home. But how about this? If they start it, you finish it.”

  The very idea of the possibility of unleashing on his family seems to help with his nerves, and more confidently, he says, “Let’s get this shit over with.”

  But I see the slight hesitation before he rings the doorbell. Underneath the curmudgeonly act, he’s nervous that even the truth won’t be enough to satisfy his parents or change their long-held opinion of him. The huge bell ding-dongs with echoes, and dimly, I think that doorbell sounds like a fucking funeral dirge. Hopefully, that’s not a bad omen.

  Debra opens the door, her smile a bit trembly as she steps back to let us in. “Hi, kids! Come on in!” Her tone is overly bright and chipper, falsely so. “You look so nice.”

  “Thank you, Debra. You do too,” I reply, not even looking her over. I’m too busy focusing on how she’s looking at Connor. There’s a darkness in her eyes, a worry she’s carried for a long time. Hopefully, what Connor has to say will help alleviate some of that.

  Caylee calls out from the living room, “We’re in here.”

  We follow Debra into the living room to find Caylee and Evan sitting on the couch, their thighs pressed against one another and Evan’s arm thrown over the back of the couch surrounding Caylee protectively. They look comfortable, happy, and very much in love. And a bit tan from their honeymoon.

  For his part, Robert is sitting in a leather club chair, his scotch glass looking freshly poured. And despite our being right on time, it feels like we’re interrupting something.

  “You decided to get together early to gossip about me,” Connor guesses, reading the room. I can feel his weight shift as he prepares to bolt, so I squeeze his hand tighter. It’s a reminder that we’re here, we’re doing this together, and he’d better not make me run in my sexiest heels. I’d probably break an ankle, end up falling to the floor, and then Connor would have to decide if was leaving me behind to the wolves or taking the time to scoop me up and carry me to safety.

  Hmm . . . wait, that would be good for the next book. Maybe Ryker could save Amber? Or hell, she could save him. I’m not trapped in gender roles. Amber can be the knight in shining armor.

  “No, of course not, dear. We’re just . . .” Debra says, pausing as she searches for the right words, “uhm, excited about what news you might have to share with us.”

  Caylee doesn’t play along with Debra’s lie, laughing and telling Connor, “Mom’s bet is that Poppy is preggers. You got yourself a little Poppyseed muffin in the oven?”

  “Caylee Marie!” Debra shouts. She looks to me, horror in her eyes, not at the thought but at it being laid so plainly bare. Quieter, and aiming for some semblance of manners, she asks, “Uhm, but since Caylee mentioned it . . . are you?”

  “No, Mom,” Connor snaps, not seeing the humor in it all. “I didn’t knock her up.”

  I shake my head and tell Debra a bit more gently, “Not pregnant, though the practicing is fun. But we’re safe. We stretch before and after to prevent pulled muscles.”

  Whatever relief she felt from finding out that I’m not pregnant is dashed at the mention of Connor’s and my sex life, but hey . . . ask personal questions, get personal answers.

  Connor, though, is still a bull in a china shop with almost no relaxing despite my attempts at humor. “I’d bet Dad’s guess is that I’ve been charged with something. What about you, Caylee?”

  Caylee rolls her eyes but doesn’t look upset. “Right on Dad.” She snuggles into Evan’s side and adds, “Our bet is that you two eloped and you’re here to tell us that there won’t be a wedding because you’re already hitched.” She sighs. “I wouldn’t blame you. I wouldn’t change a thing about our day, but damn, that was stressful. All the planning and work, the expenses, and the people. If I’d known, I might’ve considered running off to a beach somewhere, just the two of us, to get married. The wedding costs alone would have snagged us a down payment on a house, you know that?”

  “We’ll get there with our next quarterly bonuses, honey,” Evan says, looking at his bride with so much newlywed love that it inspires me.

  That’s definitely a better muse for book three. I got Ryker and Amber back together after their trouble, but I’ll need fresh drama, and then maybe I can find a way to have them renew their commitment to each other in some sweet, private way.