“No. They must all be out together tonight. Drinking.”
“So, these are the Louisiana friends?”
“I wouldn’t call them friends.”
Interesting. “How often do you go back?”
“Never.” She held down the off button. “I’m sorry. I thought they’d stop calling.”
“Does your family live there?”
“Some do, some don’t.” She sipped her wine. When she returned her glass to the table, her long fingers stroked the stem suggestively, and I had an entirely different visual of those fingers stroking something else. “What about you? Where’s your family?”
“All in Connecticut.”
“Is that far from where you live?”
“No. They basically live in the suburbs of the city. I see them quite a bit. Or I used to. My mother is threatening to visit soon. I think she misses our weekly lunches.”
“Tell me about her.”
“She’s your classic mom. She loves my sister and me. She’s big into volunteering. She’s a good wife. Loves my dad. Now that we’re out of school, she has a small interior design business.”
“You sound like you miss her.”
“Do I?” Those oversized blue eyes stared back at me. “I guess I do. I enjoy our lunches. And we’re a pretty close family. But I’ll be back soon. This is temporary.” My mom had been spoiled having my sister and me so close. “For a long time, we’d get together on weekends for dinner, but that slipped off the calendar years ago. But we’re all pretty competitive. In the summer, we’ll get together and play mixed doubles tennis. We usually get away for at least one ski trip each winter. Does your family—”
She shook her head with a quick jerk before I finished my question. The two of us had different backgrounds, that much was certain.
“How long have you been on your own?” She looked up to the ceiling, and I followed her gaze, expecting to see the remnants of a spiderweb.
“A long time. I’m independent.”
“You are.” The thrust of her chin underscored her pride in that statement. I understood, to some degree. But I couldn’t help but think she hadn’t had a choice, and that struck me as sad.
After dinner, I followed her out, mesmerized by the sway of her hips. Her silky dress hugged her full curves. I longed to grip those curves and pull her up against me. My ex, like many of the women I slept with, was lean and fit. I yearned to feel Poppy’s soft curves, to press my hard planes against those hills and valleys. The skin and bone look had its place for sure, but I found myself tantalized by Poppy’s fuller figure. I itched to cup those breasts. To see them bare.
As I followed her, I thought through my strategy. If I played my hand right, I could have her out of that dress very, very soon. I couldn’t wait to see her lingerie. I wondered, would I have seen it before? In a post? Or did she wear something new tonight? Just for me?
I planned to peel back her bra and suck on one of those delectable nipples, to squeeze what I felt quite certain were large natural breasts. She posted these tempting shots that spawned countless fantasies. Eager to play one out tonight, my cock strained against my pants.
I parked outside her cottage. As I followed her up to her door, I counted. Three more weeks until she’d be moving into my place, which would be so much more convenient. Then, when we had date nights, I wouldn’t even have to leave the house. She’d be downstairs—readily available for any kind of play.
“Are you starting to pack yet?” I asked.
“No…not yet.”
“Let me know if you need help. I can get you boxes. We could even hire movers to pack you.”
She stopped at her door and turned, placing a hand on my chest. Her touch set wheels in motion. I dipped low and pressed my lips to hers while I wrapped an arm around her waist. Her soft curves caressed me, welcomed me. My hand gripped the right globe of her ass and pulled her closer so I could rock my painfully hard erection against her.
Pressure against my chest intensified. With a shove, she broke the kiss. I searched her face, confused. Her palm pressed hard against me, the pressure both calming me down and holding me at bay.
“Thank you for dinner. I had a good time.”
Come again? “You’re welcome.” My arm remained wrapped around her, and I dipped once more to claim her mouth. To tempt her.
She ducked, opened the door, and closed the screen door in a nanosecond, leaving me alone on her porch. Cold air infiltrated my clothes where her body had warmed mine.
I pointed at her through the screen. “Does this mean you’re not inviting me in?”
“I had a great time. But I’m not the kind of girl who invites a guy in after the first date.”
“You have an OnlyFans account.” I didn’t mean to be condescending, but in a manner of speaking, the girl used sex for a living.
“And?” she asked, eyebrows raised up to her hairline.
“I’m sorry. Maybe I don’t understand. Are you more of a third date kind of girl?”
“Goodnight, Gabe.” The blonde curls swung as she closed the door in my face.
“Does Luna talk about Poppy much?” I propped my beer on the armrest of the Adirondack chair, aiming for as nonchalant as possible. Tate and I had planned to go surfing, but the waves were so flat we ended up sitting on my deck with cold ones.
“Not too much, no.” He rested against the back of his chair, face up to the sun.
“I went out on a date with her last night.”
“Yeah, how’d it go?” He didn’t even open an eye.
“Fine.” My comment earned a smirk.
“Doesn’t sound fine.”
“Do you see her with many guys? I mean, I know she just got back from being away, but before that. Did she date a lot?”
“Wasn’t paying much attention. Why?”
“Guys were calling her during our date. Curious.” I
