Truth or Demon

Poppy started to say Killian wasn’t her man, but caught herself. Why not let this woman think he was hers? He was for now anyway.

“He is pretty amazing,” Poppy admitted.

“Too good to be true.”

Poppy couldn’t deny that. She nodded, turning to toss the wet paper towel in the trash. When she turned back, the woman was still watching her, but this time there was a very strange look on her face.

“Be careful with a man like that,” the woman said, her smile suddenly looking more sinister than friendly. “You could think he’s going to show you Heaven, then you end up in Hell.”

The woman laughed. A strange, guttural, crazy laugh that echoed eerily off the tiles.

Poppy forced a smile and backed away from the sink. She nearly ran to the door, but she couldn’t stop herself from looking back as she exited. The woman still stood by the sink. Her body was that of a female, but Poppy could have sworn the reflection in the mirror was that of a man.

“Did you pay the check?”

Killian grinned at Poppy’s anxiousness, pleased to see that she was as ready to move on with the evening as he was. Until he noticed the paleness of her skin and the emotion flashing in her eyes. Definitely not desire. Definitely fear.

Instantly, he was up, looking past her toward the back of the restaurant.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?”

Poppy shook her head—a little too quickly. A little too adamantly. “No. Everything’s fine. I just want—I just would like to go home.”

He studied her a moment longer, then again glanced over her shoulder.

“Of course.” He rose and moved to wrap a protective arm around her. She sank against him, and he could actually feel she was trembling.

Something had happened in the restroom. And he had no doubt it was Vepar. What the hell did he want?

By the time they got back to her apartment, Poppy had made up her mind that she’d imagined the incident in the restroom. It had to have been the wine. The lighting. Her own overstimulated body. Probably a combination of all of the above. But here in her cozy living room, the whole event seemed, well, silly.

But of course, now that she was here, alone with Killian, a whole different kind of nervousness filled her.

She glanced at him. He leaned on the hallway doorframe, almost as if he was afraid to enter the living room with her. Their arousal had simmered all night, and now that they were alone, maybe he was having second thoughts.

As if to corroborate, he remained where he was and asked, “Poppy, are you sure?”

She stared at him for a moment. She was nervous, but she wanted him too much to let her nerves stop her.

She nodded, just a slight bob of her head, but that was enough for him.

“Come here.” His voice was rougher now, almost guttural.

She hesitated for only a moment, then walked toward him, watching his expression as she got nearer. His golden eyes burned with desire. Hot, hungry. The same emotions that blazed inside her.

Her body vibrated with need as she stopped just inches from him. She raised her face to him, knowing that uncertainty also mingled with her need for him. But she hoped something else was clear in her eyes. Trust.

She trusted him.

CHAPTER 32

But even as she offered her trust, she was scared.

Killian loomed over her like a ravenous lion, his golden eyes flashing with burning hunger. But that wasn’t what scared her. She somehow knew he’d do whatever she asked. He’d stay; he’d go. He didn’t frighten her.

She was what scared her. She was frightened of what would happen once she spent a whole night in his arms, once he was deep in her body, making her his. But she was just as frightened of telling him no and letting him walk out the door.

Could she handle this? She closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to stop being so nervous, so scared to take any risks.

Then she felt his hands cupping her face. Large warm hands, making her feel delicate, and protected. She opened her eyes and met his gaze.

“Poppy.” Her name was like a prayer on his lips. His eyes searched her face, concern replacing some of the yearning.

“I—I want you so much,” she admitted. Her heart raced, a mixture of desire and fear.

“I want you too.”

His hands still held her, and his lips came down, pressing to hers. Not a wild kiss of passion. Not one of persuasion. Just a gentle brushing of his lips against hers. First at the corners of her mouth, then directly on the center.

“We’ll do whatever you want,” he told her against her lips.

She nodded, knowing that was her answer. She was doing this. She had to do this, or she would regret letting him leave for the rest of her life.

She reached up and caught one of his hands. Without a word, she turned and led him to her bedroom. The room was shadowy, the only light that from the living room. But she didn’t reach for her lamp. She found the dimness comforting.

She turned back to him, and this time, she was the one to press her mouth to his. Her lips trembled against his, her fingers quivering as she touched his unruly hair, the strands as soft as his large body was hard.

He reached up to curl his fingers around one of her hands, then lifted his head, bringing their joined hands between them. Gently, he feathered kisses over each of her trembling fingers, his eyes still locked with hers.

“You don’t have any idea how beautiful you are, do you?” he whispered.

She shook her head.

“Well, I intend to show you. And you’ll never doubt it again.”

She almost believed him. She wanted to believe him.

He shifted then, his movement so quick, she barely registered it until she was lifted high against his muscular chest. Not even time for a surprised cry, but her arms did come up around his neck to balance herself.

He strode to the bed, settling her in the center. She lay back against the softness of her duvet, watching as he straightened.

After a few moments, he touched her again, running a hand from her knee down to her ankle, where he paused at her shoe. With nimble fingers, he worked the buckle open. The shoe thumped to the floor. His hands moved to the other leg, skimming downward again, knee to ankle; then he unfastened that shoe.

“Did I tell you how sexy your shoes looked?”

She shook her head, not sure what he’d said or not said. All she could focus on was this moment.

He curled his hands around her foot, his thumbs pressing into the arch, the pressure so erotic, she almost cried out. He massaged her foot for a moment, then repeated the action on the other foot, and this time she couldn’t contain her whimper.

“Feel good, baby?”

She nodded, closing her eyes. He continued to knead her foot, the touch more sensual than she could have imagined. Then his hands moved to her ankle, her calf, up to her thigh.

Then his hands were gone. She whimpered again, opening her eyes. He smiled down at her.

“Want more, baby?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice rough with desire.

He massaged up her other leg, stopping just short of the place that ached most for his touch.

Instead, he held out a hand to her. Mindlessly, she accepted it, and he hoisted her to her feet, her rubbery legs barely supporting her. But he anchored her against his broad, hard chest, while the other hand worked on the