“Thank you,” she said with a small, still unsure smile. But he did notice her gaze returned to his lips, and he chose to see that as a good sign.
But instead of kissing her again, which was what he wanted to do, he started walking again.
“Sushi, here we come.”
Poppy glanced at him, this time her expression a different kind of uncertain. “Sushi? Really?”
CHAPTER 31
“It’s really not bad,” Poppy said.
Killian laughed. “Not exactly rave reviews.”
“I do like it,” she insisted. “At least what I managed to get to my mouth.” She wagged her chopsticks at him. She’d not been terribly successful with her utensils. Of course, the two glasses of plum wine might not have helped.
“You did great,” he assured her.
She knew he was lying, but she appreciated his attempt to allay her embarrassment.
“And I do love the décor,” she said, settling back against the cushions to take in the lovely rice-paper partitions and ornately carved woodwork. They sat in their own private booth, which had also made her ineptness with her chopsticks a little less harrowing.
“I love the décor too,” he said, and she knew he wasn’t referring to the restaurant at all. Her cheeks burned, even as her heart skipped at his compliment.
“I really like the privacy—so I can do this,” he murmured as he leaned in to steal a kiss. She leaned in too, loving how he felt and tasted. The embrace intensified, their passion exploding as easily as gasoline ignited by a mere spark.
But she broke the kiss before it could get too passionate, too out of control.
“Shy?” He gave her a teasing smile.
“A little.”
He glanced at her mouth longingly, but then he took a sip of his sake.
“I still cannot believe you speak such fluent Japanese,” Poppy said suddenly, trying to get her lust-and plum-wine-dazed mind back onto a different topic.
“You shouldn’t be so impressed—I can only speak a little.”
“It’s still amazing. Do you speak other languages? You know, besides Swedish.”
He nodded. “I have a basic knowledge of several languages: French, Russian, some Italian and Spanish. A little Portuguese too. Even some Hungarian.”
He stroked her leg under the table, his fingers toying with the hem of her skirt. She caught his wandering hand, trying to keep her thoughts appropriate for a restaurant.
He grinned, but kept his hand still under hers.
“And Swedish.”
His smiled faded just a bit. “And Swedish, of course.”
“How did you learn them all?”
“For my work,” he said.
“So you’ve traveled all over the world to do your paranormal investigations?” She supposed that made sense. There were ghosts and spooky stories everywhere.
He nodded. “Yes.”
With his free hand, he reached for his sake, taking a deep sip.
Poppy took a sip of her drink too. The wine was sweet and a little syrupy, but she liked the plum flavor.
“All the traveling must have toned down your Swedish accent,” she realized. “In fact, you really have none.”
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you speak Swedish.” Poppy’s dark eyes glittered, clearly excited to hear Killian speak in his “native” language. “What did you say?”
What did he say? That no, he didn’t have a Swedish accent, because he was a demon, not a Swede. But Killian couldn’t tell her, by Daisy’s orders, except in a language Poppy couldn’t understand. Still the incomprehensible admission felt good somehow.
Instead he said, “I just said ‘I don’t speak Swedish much these days, so I have lost my accent.’”
She nodded, taking another sip of her wine.
“I recognize the words
He smiled. Great, was he going to spend the night teaching her Swedish? Which he could do. Demons could speak all languages. But those weren’t really the type of lessons he was hoping for tonight.
“I also heard something that sounded like
He paused, his drink halfway to his mouth, his lustful thoughts evaporating. Damn it, he shouldn’t have said that.
“Um, yeah, that is the Swedish word for—for paranormal. I actually said, ‘Since becoming a paranormal investigator, I don’t speak Swedish much anymore.’”
She nodded, willingly accepting his explanation. Then she laughed. “That’s kind of strange, isn’t it? I mean since your paranormal expertise is in demonology.”
He smiled, the gesture strained. “Yes, isn’t that strange?”
Poppy sipped her wine again, but then pushed it away. “That’s good but very sweet.”
Killian was relieved at the change of topic. “Perhaps you’d like some tea.”
She nodded, smiling at him again, that lovely dimple peeking out at him.
“I should keep my wits about me; it would seem you could seduce me in several languages.”
She smiled, but eyed his naughty grin suspiciously. “What did you say now?”
He leaned in until his lips just barely brushed against hers, then murmured, “I certainly hope so.”
He kissed her, this time until they were both senseless with desire.
When the waitress returned, they barely managed to end the kiss. But Killian did have the wits to pull away, knowing Poppy wasn’t totally comfortable with their public displays of affection … or rather lust.
Killian asked the waitress for the check, and when he turned back to Poppy, true to form, her cheeks blazed bright red.
“I think I should go to the restroom before we leave,” she said, clearly trying to gather herself.
He smiled, loving her sweet shyness just as much as her wanton abandon.
She slid out of the booth and headed toward the back of the restaurant. Killian glanced around for the waitress. He wanted to pay and get Poppy home. His cock pulsed against the denim of his jeans, clearly in total agreement.
Poppy stepped into the restroom, glad for the coolness of the large, tiled room. She hadn’t really needed to use the bathroom, but she needed a moment to collect herself. At this rate, Killian would have her naked on the subway on the way home.
She braced herself on the sink, trying to get her raging libido under control. After a moment, she reached for a paper towel and dampened it and pressed the square over her heated cheeks and neck.
Behind her, she heard the door open. A tall woman with dark hair entered, joining her at the sink rather than going to the stalls.
She rifled through a satchel purse, finally retrieving a silver tube of lipstick. She leaned over the sink, getting closer to the mirror to apply the makeup. Then she stopped, seeming to notice Poppy for the first time.
She lowered the lipstick and smiled at Poppy from the mirror.
“I hope you don’t mind my saying this,” she said, her voice oddly husky, “but aren’t you the lucky lady?”
Poppy smiled, but knew she couldn’t keep the confusion off her face.
“Your man,” the woman said. “He’s something else.”
