She sold her subscribers.
She’s not doing porn.
But she’d still been freezing me out.
“You got my text? I did bring my parents by.” You can apologize to me now.
“I’ve been swamped.”
“And you couldn’t bring yourself to text me? Not even a ‘hey, got your text’?”
A trace of amusement flashed. “I might have been a tad miffed.”
“Well, I’ll give it to you. You can do the cold shoulder like none other.” I’d had girls try to pull that shit before, but never had anyone done it quite as well as Poppy. I’d been checking my phone continually since my first unanswered text.
She walked around me and slid open a narrow kitchen drawer. She lifted a small yellow tube of ointment and tapped the counter. “Kick your leg up here. Let me clean it up for you.”
Her light, gentle touch soothed. I tucked her hair back behind her ear, so I could see her face as she hunted for injuries.
“I missed you.”
“Missed you, too.” She paused from her work to give me a sad smile, then resumed lightly fingering my leg hair, searching for broken skin. She tapped my calf. “Good as new.”
I lowered my foot to the floor as she returned the tube to the cram-packed drawer. I closed the distance between us. When she turned back to me, I tilted her mouth up to mine. I waited, searching for permission. Her lids half-closed, and she inched closer. I pressed my lips to hers. She opened up to me, and I reveled in her sweetness. Her soft curves pressed against me, and I rocked her up against the counter.
She pressed her palm to my chest and pushed, gasping for air as we broke apart.
“What are we doing, Gabe?”
“What feels good.” Her reaction confused me.
“You’re going back to New York?” The tip of her nail brushed my lip.
“Yeah. I am.” I could tell her it would be for a short while, that I’d return. But that would be a lie. And I’d always been honest with her.
Her eyes glistened, and something deep inside me punctured, as if someone drove an ice pick into my sternum.
“If things were different, I’d be planning for the long-term. We’d be having a different conversation.” Surprise flashed, and I couldn’t blame her. The truth shocked me, too.
“If things were different…how?” She sounded small asking the question, vulnerable, and I hated that idea, that I’d had a role in making her insecure in any way.
“You’re launching a business here. And I belong—”
“In the city. I know.”
“This week is going to be a big week for me. I have a lot of legal meetings. I’m close to putting the bullshit behind me. Then I’ll start something new. Building out a new fund, it’s intensive.” Grueling, stressful, thrilling.
“We were never meant for forever.” Her emotion threatened to choke her words.
“You deserve the world. The best of everything. Your drive to succeed—on your own. All the people who ever tried to put you down, I hope you smear your business success in their face.”
Her bottom lip quivered, and I kissed her. Not a deep kiss. Just pressed my lips to hers.
The rain outside picked up and pattered against the glass panes over the sink, drawing our attention outside.
“You drove your open cart over. Won’t be fun driving back in this rain.” She stared out the window, and I leaned down and breathed her in. Her palm held my jaw, and her thumb brushed against my scruff. I closed my eyes to memorize the sensation. “Why don’t you plan on staying? One last night?”
Chapter 28
Poppy
Even as I said the words, I questioned them. Why on Earth would I have him stay the night, when he was leaving tomorrow? My insides already hurt. Throbbed.
But I missed him. And I was gonna hurt no matter what. I wanted to experience him one more time. And for this reason, without hope for anything more, I led him up the stairs to my bedroom and closed the door.
The rain outside pattered against the windowpane and ran down the glass in thick streams. The sun remained hidden behind an overcast sky, but enough late afternoon rays filtered through the window to light the room. In the shadows, he could see me.
He wrapped me in his arms and kissed me, slow and sweet. He must’ve had bourbon at some point in the day because he tasted like candy. Delectable and delicious. We shifted on our feet, neither of us in a rush, a slow, undulating dance without rhythm or reason.
His touch on my sensitive skin sent jolts all over me, overpowering my ripped heart. The relief would be temporary, but I wanted it, I needed it. One last time.
As I undressed in front of him, I didn’t hide. For our last time, I wanted him to see me, the real me. The flawed me. The one with tears running rampant. The one with lumps and squish.
Those green eyes. I memorized the way they looked at me. With more than adoration. It was a look I didn’t dare to describe in my head.
But then, as we came together and he filled me, the words came to me. With each thrust, he grunted out, “Love you.” Each time he said it, inside me, I chanted the truth. With every fiber of my being, I loved him. Over and over again, he said the words. Our bodies moved as one. We brought ourselves to the edge, and trembling, sweaty, spent, we let go.
I wasn’t fool enough to believe he meant it. Even afterward, as we held each other, his heartbeat close enough to mine the reverberations of each beat pulsed deep within my core, so close I could swear our hearts synched. His caress, each brush of his lips, his attentive touch—I hoped to remember it always. This, I told
