moment to fall apart.
Running a shaky hand through her hair, she closed her eyes.
“What are you doing?” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling as much as her hands.
She should have put a stop to the encounter. She should have told him no, that she wasn’t interested in him that way.
“But you are,” she murmured, for the first time really admitting it, even if it was only to herself.
It could only ever be to herself.
Nothing good could come out of a relationship with Killian O’Brien, even if that was what he wanted.
Nothing good at all.
She wandered around her room, not quite sure of what to do. Tonight had been so surreal, she somehow felt out of place just dropping back into her normal world.
She sat on the bed, only to stand up again. She walked over to her dresser, rifling through the drawers, only to pause, clothes forgotten in her hands.
This was no big deal. Just a casual sexual encounter. Adults did that. Didn’t they? Casual trysts that didn’t mean a thing.
She looked down at her hands, realizing she clutched several garments. What had she been looking for? Pajamas. That’s right, pajamas.
And she couldn’t hang out in here indefinitely. Daisy wanted her to watch their favorite show. She pulled out a pair of plaid cotton pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. Quickly, she changed into them and braced herself to act normally.
She could hear Daisy’s laughter as soon as she opened the door. The sound should have pleased her. It usually did, knowing that Daisy was thriving, happy. But tonight, it just made her feel guilty and ashamed.
Was her behavior tonight the example she wanted to set for her little sister? Not that Daisy would ever, ever know about it. But Poppy knew, and she couldn’t believe how easily she’d let Killian do whatever he wanted. No, that wasn’t fair. She’d wanted it too. So very much.
“Poppy, you’re missing the whole show.”
She joined Daisy, curling on the couch too.
“Sheldon cracks me up,” Daisy said, popping some of the buttery popcorn in her mouth.
Poppy smiled, and tried to follow what was going on, but her mind kept wandering back to that rooftop and the feeling of Killian’s touch. His body against hers. His mouth. And his very naughty tongue.
“That was a good one,” Daisy said, dragging Poppy out of her erotic memories.
Poppy shifted, pulling her legs in tighter to herself. The show was over, and she couldn’t recall a single word of it. Heat crept over her cheeks and neck. She ran a hand through her hair, hoping the action would distract from her surely red cheeks.
“It—it was good.” She smiled.
Daisy studied her for a moment, then sighed. “I guess I’d better get to bed.”
Poppy nodded. “It is getting late.”
Daisy picked up her popcorn bowl, bringing it into the kitchen. She paused on her way back through the living room.
“Did you have any fun at the art gallery?”
More embarrassment burned her face, but she managed to shrug. “Yes. It wasn’t too bad.”
“I’m glad,” Daisy said, then headed off to bed, a little bounce to her step.
Poppy fell back against the cushions, relieved Daisy seemed to think everything was fine. Maybe she’d behaved more normally than she’d thought.
Daisy closed her door and rushed over to her nightstand. Her cell phone lay among the piles of books and hair bands and pens and papers.
She flipped the phone open, and her fingers began flying over the character pad.
She hit send, and the text whisked through the atmosphere to find her friends’ phones.
She dropped the phone back to her nightstand and crawled into bed, a smile on her face. She’d really started to think this conjuring idea was a bad one.
But Emma had been totally right. Daisy had been able to tell as soon as Poppy stepped into the apartment that something had happened tonight. She’d looked all flushed and dreamy. She hadn’t seen a bit of her favorite show. She was thinking about someone. A man. Daisy could just tell.
She turned off her light, then hugged her pillow, grinning to herself. Poppy was going to find happiness, finally.
Daisy just knew it.
CHAPTER 28
He was on his knees. She looked down at him. Their eyes held. Locked. Words flowed between them. Hunger. Need. Lust. But so much more than that. Words that shouldn’t be there, but were. Gentleness. Caring. Affection.
He rose, their eyes never leaving each other’s.
Slowly, he leaned in, bring his lips to press against hers. Kissing her. Tasting her. She savored him too. The embrace was unhurried, thorough, encompassing. A true melding of beings. Of souls.
Time didn’t seem to exist, they just were. One.
Finally they parted, eyes searching each other. Heat and emotion swirling there.
Then words were said aloud.
“I love you.”
Poppy gasped, sitting up straight in her bed. She pressed a hand to her chest, her heart crashing against her rib cage like a panicked bird trapped in a cage. Like she’d just woken from a horrible nightmare.
But it hadn’t been a nightmare. Not exactly. More like …
She pulled in several more breaths, trying desperately to calm herself. It was just a dream.
She fell back against her pillows. Just a dream.
Just a dream in which she told Killian that she loved him.
Killian’s eyes snapped open. He didn’t move, although his heart raced as if it were trying to escape his body. His breathing sounded rapid and harsh in the silent darkness.
He’d been dreaming. A very vivid, very real dream.
The words that had come from his lips echoed through his mind in time with his heartbeat and his breathing.
He’d told Poppy he loved her.
“Wow,” Daisy said when she shuffled into the kitchen the next morning in her Hello Kitty slippers. “You look like you didn’t sleep too well last night.”
Poppy looked up from the chapter she’d been editing, knowing full well she looked exhausted. After the dream, sleep had never returned. By three a.m., she’d given up and decided to get some work done.
“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep,” Poppy said, “and there didn’t seem to be much point just staring at the ceiling.”
Plus, staring at the ceiling gave her way too much time to reflect on the significance of her dream.
Of which there was none, she assured herself. For the umpteenth time. Dreams were just crazy workings of the subconscious mind. They didn’t have to mean anything at all.
And really, why would she even give it much thought? Loving Killian. That was silly. She barely knew him. So he’d hung around her place a few days. And they’d gone on a couple ill-fated outings. And … some other things.
She should be laughing about the dream, not flipping out about it.
Daisy joined her at the table with her usual cereal and milk.
“So are you still going out tomorrow with Killian?” she asked as she poured—cornflakes this morning—into a
