She giggled, and we gazed at each other. If it wasn’t for her, I’d probably be considering abandoning this escape plan. But I found her entertaining. And all that energy I claimed to miss would be there when I returned.
She’d pulled her blonde curls up into a bun when we’d boarded the boat, and now a few ringlets framed her face. The candlelight highlighted her long, slender neck. Sitting there, I fantasized trailing kisses down the delicate pale skin, all the way to her tempting breasts. Even though her black sweater covered her, I’d memorized her curves during my nightly perusal of her tempting photos. My absolute favorite shots were of her tiny tank tops that skimmed just below her nipples, and sometimes showed the edge of the dark rim. God, the woman had a gorgeous rack. I tipped bigtime on those photos. A less than intelligent move, given the last thing I wanted was for her to post more of those shots for other pervs to see.
If she would allow me to be her only customer, she could keep her OnlyFans account income, and it would be a win-win. I’d still get to see her photos, whenever she had a chance to take some, and she’d still have an additional income stream while she kicked off her restaurant business. I pondered how to approach the solution again while she slipped off to the ladies’ room. Her stubborn refusal to wear my coat came to mind. She’d never go for it. Besides, like she told me, the site wasn’t set up that way—to provide exclusivity.
The more time I spent with her, the more I hated that site. It was one thing to click on PornHub, or to even meet hired talent at a party. Those women felt one-dimensional. Entertainment.
Poppy was no longer mere entertainment. I wanted her in my three-dimensional world, my real life, and I didn’t want any part of her to remain in that one-dimensional world where some part of her was hired. But if she wouldn’t accept my help…
On the ride back, she stood in front of me and, under my guidance, took hold of the shiny silver wheel. The boat swerved left then right as she overcompensated time and again. Her belly laughs cut through the chilly night air. Her soft curves pressed against my front, and I settled into her warmth.
As our date drew to a close and we walked side by side along the marina, I prepared mentally for our goodnight kiss. On that first night, she shocked me with a door in the face. Now, as her fingers slid into mine, I felt grateful she forced me to take it slow. If she’d let me in that first night, I might have written her off as a conquest. Kept her in my one-dimensional entertainment framework.
Standing on her doorstep, I ran a thumb across her bottom lip and tilted her head up to meet mine. I tasted her, soft and slow. I had an urge to press her up against the wall and grind into her, but knowing I was the first guy to bring her flowers, the desire to show her how she deserved to be treated won out. I took a step back and held on to the railing as my breathing evened out and my dick protested my decision.
“Would you like to come in?” She opened the door and placed her hand on the knob, offering.
“More than you know. But I want to treat you right.”
“Treat me? Because of Ben?”
“Because you deserve it. You are worthy.” I pressed my lips against hers once more, breathed in her soft flowery scent, and forced myself off her porch. A headiness filled me, that feeling one got when you’d done something right. Maybe she wouldn’t accept my investment, but I had other ways of helping her and building her up. I planned to give Poppy a taste of life dating Gabriel Chesterton.
Chapter 20
Poppy
“Those. Flowers. Are. Gorgeous.” Luna kicked off her fuzzy boots by the front door and planted her face in the latest flower delivery, a stunning arrangement of thirty-six pink roses. And yes, I counted.
“Gabe discovered no one had ever given me flowers before, and he’s been a little over the top this week. I’ve received a new arrangement every day. I’m going to have to tell him to slow it down or else my house is going to look like someone died.”
“Uh-uh. These colors don’t say death. These colors say he’s fallen. Hard.” She fingered the low-lying modern arrangement on my coffee table and pointed at the white orchids on the center of the kitchen table.
“The first arrangement he gave me were peonies. I think they’ll be my favorite for the rest of my life.”
“Where are they?”
“Well, they lost all their petals. But here are photos.” I handed her my phone, open to the right place in my photo directory.
“Every day, huh?” She slowly turned around the room. “You have more upstairs?”
“One by my bed. Another in my bathroom.”
“L.O.V.E.,” she teased.
“As if. More likely he’s staking a claim. I posted a pic of the flowers on my free account. You know, I do landscape shots and how-to videos, and fun stuff. Anyway, every time he sends them, I post the pics. One of my subscribers messaged me asking for a non-PO box address so he could send flowers, too. Something tells me I might be able to get a competition going. Men are weird.”
“Yuck on the subscriber. Don’t do that.” She held her index finger out authoritatively.
“That kind of goes without saying.”
Satisfied, she dropped the finger and stepped into my kitchen. “I think he really likes you. Have you got coffee?”
“No, but you can use my Keurig.”
She opened the cabinet and perused my coffee and tea options.
“Other than the flowers and our texting, he hasn’t been around. I haven’t wanted to ask him to get together, because I kind of wanted him to initiate.”
“Oh, you didn’t know? He’s been
