lap. She tensed at first, but melted into his body.
He broke the kiss and trailed his lips across her jaw. “God, Poppy.” The breath gushed out of him in hard pants against her cheek. She rested her forehead in the crook of his neck, and when he felt the tiniest touch of her tongue against his skin his cock jerked in his pants. “You smell so good.” Blake inhaled the satiny flesh at the base of her throat. Because he couldn’t help himself, he ran his tongue down and over her collarbone. “And your taste.” He moaned deeply, and even he could hear the carnal lust laced in it.
She gripped each side of his face and dragged his lips back to hers. She took his mouth in a bruising, desperate kiss, and he gave her all of him. The feel of her full breasts rubbing against his chest almost broke his self-restraint, but he didn’t want to push her. The fact she let him hold her was more than he could have ever asked for, but she touched him, and kissed him in return, and because of that he needed to be gentle with her.
“Blake, you make me feel … free.” She moved her mouth against his.
“Yeah, I know, Poppy.” Because you make me feel the same way. Blake moved his hand down her throat, over her delicate collarbones, and covered the full mound of her breasts. The low sound that came from her had him curling his fingers into the soft flesh. He felt her nipple harden beneath his palm, and the little control he had left him in a rush. Gripping her hips, Blake turned her so she was forced to straddle his waist. A gasp left her, and he swallowed it. Licking, nipping, and teasing, Blake devoured her mouth. He would never get enough. Never.
You have to take things slow and gentle.
He told himself this over and over again, but then he found himself lifting up her shirt and trailing his fingers over the bare flesh of her stomach. The raised, puckered flesh of what he knew to be her scar was beneath the digits. Something changed inside of her, and her body stiffened under his touch. Poppy pulled away, her eyes large and filled with unsaid emotions.
You went too fast.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have gone so fast.” She moved off him and several feet away in the next second. Blake did make a move to stand. This was his fault. His desire for her, his love for her, clouded his better judgment.
Poppy shook her head and wiped a stray tear away. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong, Blake.” She wrapped her arms around her belly and looked down. “I want it as much as you did. I just…” She exhaled loudly. “I just can’t do this.” Without another look in his direction she turned and disappeared into her room.
Blake stared at the spot Poppy just left. He ran his hand through his hair and gripped the short strands. “Dammit.” What in the hell had he done? He quite possibly just fucked up the one thing that meant more to him than anything else in the world.
Chapter Eight
Poppy had run away, because frankly that was what she did best. So now, hours later, she lay in her bed and watched the moonlight filter across the ceiling. Her tears had since dried, but the pain still lingered. It felt like she betrayed the memory of Jon, but logically she knew that wasn’t true. She hated feeling it, was sick of its cold, angry touch clawing at her until she couldn’t breathe and drowned in her own hatred and disgust. Blake was right. Jon wouldn’t want her to live like this, to go day by day without a meaningful passing thought, without feeling love or giving it in return.
Blake hadn’t come after her, and she didn’t know if she should feel relief or disappointment. She felt shamed for what they had done in the living room, but she also felt immense heat still coursing through her. Blake had made her feel alive, without the regret of the past two years dragging her further down into a dark abyss.
A look at the clock beside the bed showed it was going on one in the morning, yet Poppy lay wide
He broke the kiss and trailed his lips across her jaw. “God, Poppy.” The breath gushed out of him in hard pants against her cheek. She rested her forehead in the crook of his neck, and when he felt the tiniest touch of her tongue against his skin his cock jerked in his pants. “You smell so good.” Blake inhaled the satiny flesh at the base of her throat. Because he couldn’t help himself, he ran his tongue down and over her collarbone. “And your taste.” He moaned deeply, and even he could hear the carnal lust laced in it.
She gripped each side of his face and dragged his lips back to hers. She took his mouth in a bruising, desperate kiss, and he gave her all of him. The feel of her full breasts rubbing against his chest almost broke his self-restraint, but he didn’t want to push her. The fact she let him hold her was more than he could have ever asked for, but she touched him, and kissed him in return, and because of that he needed to be gentle with her.
“Blake, you make me feel … free.” She moved her mouth against his.
“Yeah, I know, Poppy.” Because you make me feel the same way. Blake moved his hand down her throat, over her delicate collarbones, and covered the full mound of her breasts. The low sound that came from her had him curling his fingers into the soft flesh. He felt her nipple harden beneath his palm, and the little control he had left him in a rush. Gripping her hips, Blake turned her so she was forced to straddle his waist. A gasp left her, and he swallowed it. Licking, nipping, and teasing, Blake devoured her mouth. He would never get enough. Never.
You have to take things slow and gentle.
He told himself this over and over again, but then he found himself lifting up her shirt and trailing his fingers over the bare flesh of her stomach. The raised, puckered flesh of what he knew to be her scar was beneath the digits. Something changed inside of her, and her body stiffened under his touch. Poppy pulled away, her eyes large and filled with unsaid emotions.
You went too fast.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have gone so fast.” She moved off him and several feet away in the next second. Blake did make a move to stand. This was his fault. His desire for her, his love for her, clouded his better judgment.
Poppy shook her head and wiped a stray tear away. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong, Blake.” She wrapped her arms around her belly and looked down. “I want it as much as you did. I just…” She exhaled loudly. “I just can’t do this.” Without another look in his direction she turned and disappeared into her room.
Blake stared at the spot Poppy just left. He ran his hand through his hair and gripped the short strands. “Dammit.” What in the hell had he done? He quite possibly just fucked up the one thing that meant more to him than anything else in the world.
Chapter Eight
Poppy had run away, because frankly that was what she did best. So now, hours later, she lay in her bed and watched the moonlight filter across the ceiling. Her tears had since dried, but the pain still lingered. It felt like she betrayed the memory of Jon, but logically she knew that wasn’t true. She hated feeling it, was sick of its cold, angry touch clawing at her until she couldn’t breathe and drowned in her own hatred and disgust. Blake was right. Jon wouldn’t want her to live like this, to go day by day without a meaningful passing thought, without feeling love or giving it in return.
Blake hadn’t come after her, and she didn’t know if she should feel relief or disappointment. She felt shamed for what they had done in the living room, but she also felt immense heat still coursing through her. Blake had made her feel alive, without the regret of the past two years dragging her further down into a dark abyss.
A look at the clock beside the bed showed it was going on one in the morning, yet Poppy lay wide
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