by Melody Grace
Relax, she ordered herself. OK, so maybe she wasn’t all that experienced when it came to seducing gorgeous men, but she was a grown, red-blooded woman. She wasn’t going to get tarred and feathered and marched through town with a scarlet A affixed to her chest just for dropping by a friend’s place unannounced with a bottle of wine.
And cute underwear.
Poppy took a deep breath, and then another. The turn took her off the highway, out through the woods, and she found herself looking curiously around in the dusk light. The sun was setting through the trees, and she didn’t know what to expect from Cooper’s residence, but when she pulled up outside an old red barn—weathered with age, with faded white shutters and ironwork curling at the windows—somehow, it made perfect sense.
His truck was out front, and the lights were on inside. No excuses now.
Was she really going to do this?
Poppy thought about heading back to the cottage and spending another evening alone. She’d curl up with a book, make some more soup, and spend the night warm and perfectly content—just the way she’d passed hundreds of nights before. Or she could knock on that door and take a risk, leap into the unknown.
She wanted more. She wanted him. And didn’t her books always say you should fight for what you wanted?
Poppy climbed out of her car and marched up to the door. She knocked firmly, before she had a chance to take it back.
“Just a sec!” Cooper’s yell came from inside, and Poppy was almost about to turn on her heel and race back to the safety of her car when the door opened, and there he was.
Her pulse skipped.
Cooper was barefoot, wearing jeans and a faded black T-shirt. He looked scruffy, and relaxed, and devastatingly handsome, and for a moment, Poppy’s mind went blank and her blood ran hot.
She wanted him bad.
“Poppy?” Cooper looked at her with a cautious expression. “Everything OK?”
“Wine,” she managed to blurt, holding out the bottle. Think! “I mean, there was leftover from the book group. I thought we could share a glass.”
And a kiss.
And your bed.
Cooper paused. “Are you sure you don’t have other plans?” he asked slowly. “Like with that ex of yours?”
His gaze searched hers, and Poppy silently groaned. She was right—he’d gotten the wrong idea about her and Owen, and thought something was still going on.
“No plans,” Poppy said firmly. “Owen just needed . . . to talk it out. Tidy up loose ends. But he agrees it’s for the best that it’s over between us.”
Cooper’s lips curled in a smile. “So he didn’t want to stick around?”
“Nope.” Poppy shook her head quickly. “He left last night. He’s probably back in the city by now.”
“Probably for the best.” Cooper grinned.
“For the best,” Poppy echoed, smiling back.
She felt it again, that champagne anticipation that had shivered during their date last night. Her fears and insecurities melted away, and she sent up silent thanks that she hadn’t let Cooper’s misconceptions keep her away.
He wanted her, too.
“Well, come on in.” Cooper stood aside and opened the door wider. “Sorry for the mess, I wasn’t expecting company.”
Poppy stepped inside, and looked around curiously. It was an old converted barn, with a wide open main living space with double-height ceilings, furnished in a rustic, comfortable style. There was a galley kitchen along one wall, a huge oak dining table, and a loft-style area up a flight of stairs. His bedroom, she guessed.
“Shall I open the bottle?” Cooper asked, strolling over to the kitchen. “Or did Mackenzie already get you drunk?”
Poppy dragged her attention back from his sleeping arrangements. “You’ve been to book club, then?”
“The first rule of book club . . .” he quipped, and she laughed.
“It was fun. Not that we did much reading.” Poppy drifted after him, taking in the mess of papers covering the table. She paused, looking more closely. There were blueprints and sketches: construction designs, and artist renderings, too. They were beautiful and precise, and clearly showed hours of labor.
Cooper returned and handed her a glass of wine. He saw her looking and seemed embarrassed. “Sorry, I was just working on something. I’ll get these out of your way.”
“No, leave them. These sketches are amazing.” Poppy studied them, impressed. The intricate designs, the attention to detail . . . “I didn’t know you were an architect, too.”
Cooper shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just some plans, maybe. I love restoring the older houses, but it would be fun to build from scratch one day.”
“Is this the house you’re working on at the beach?” she asked, pulling out some sheets with the front elevation planned.
“Yup. I was thinking of adding dormer windows here, upstairs,” he pointed out. “And then a balcony area with French doors off the master, so you wake up every morning to that ocean view.”
“That sounds incredible,” she said, envious that someone would get to enjoy all the product of his labors. “Your future buyers are one lucky family.”
He chuckled. “Let’s see if I can get the roof to hold before we talk about how lucky they are. These older houses are tricky, they just don’t make them like this anymore. They can be amazing if they’re restored right, but they come with a lot more baggage.”
“Don’t we all?” Poppy joked, and he laughed.
Poppy took a sip of wine to calm herself and looked around the room again. Now that she knew what to look for, Cooper’s passion for classic old design came through clearly: the vintage photographs of old Cape Cod buildings, framed blueprints on the wall over the mantel, and the rustic-looking furniture she was sure were antiques. “This is a great place,” she said admiringly. “It’s hard to find, but I’m guessing you planned it that way.”
Cooper gave a boyish grin. “There are advantages to being miles from town. Not so many calls to come fix someone’s roof at the last minute.”
“I don’t know about that,” Poppy said, remembering how Mackenzie had sung his praises. “Mackenzie says you can be counted on in a crisis.”
“Mackenzie says a lot of things,” he replied, with all the exasperation of an old friend. “We go way back,” he explained. “She’s like a kid sister to me, I guess. An annoying, pushy kid sister.” He paused. “Although, she can be right about some things.”
His eyes caught Poppy’s, and she felt herself flush. She had a feeling she knew exactly what he was talking about, but she couldn’t find it in her to be annoyed at Mackenzie’s blatant matchmaking.
She’d been right about them, after all.
Poppy took another sip of wine, her head already spinning in a way that had nothing to do with her drink. It was finally sinking in that she was alone with Cooper, with nothing to interrupt them this time. He went to put some music on, and she tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach, but when the slow, sultry strains of a classic Elvis Presley record began to play, and Cooper reappeared in the doorway—his smiling blue eyes fixed steadily on her—Poppy couldn’t stop the heat that rolled through her body, jolting every nerve and synapse with pure desire.
Cooper crossed the room.
Poppy caught her breath. His gaze didn’t waver, that playful smile on the edge of his lips as he came closer, closer, until he was standing right in front of her. Close enough to touch. He plucked her wineglass from her hand and set it on the table, then gently pressed his palm to her cheek.
“I’m glad you stopped by,” he said softly.
His touch rippled through her, electric. Poppy felt like her body was humming, just to feel the warmth of his skin on hers. She wanted to reach for him, touch him, take everything she’d been fantasizing about ever since the night they kissed, but somehow she was suspended in the moment, feeling everything in slow-motion as he leaned in and grazed her lips with his.
Poppy shivered against him
. Just the softest brush of his mouth was a revelation, and she swayed closer, eager to find his lips again. This time, the kiss deepened: slow and soft, his mouth exploring hers, tasting. She slid her hands up over his chest, savoring in the solid muscle as his tongue dipped between her lips, tantalizingly slow.
How could a kiss awaken every last sense like this? Poppy was overwhelmed by the feelings rushing over her: the heat from his body, the taste of wine on his tongue; the low, spicy scent of his aftershave, and her own heartbeat thundering over the music in the background. She was wrapped up in the moment, falling deeper into the kiss, and as his fingertips traced the slow outline of her jaw, something inside her let go. Free-fall.
She didn’t care what came next between them. She just wanted more.
Cooper was drunk. He’d only had a sip of wine, but there was no other explanation. Not for the way his head spun to hold her, and his heart pounded in his chest with every touch.
One taste of her, and he was gone. She was the sweetest damn sin he’d ever known.
Poppy let out a breathy sigh against his lips, and Cooper felt a shock of lust barrel through his system. Her body was soft in his arms, pressing closer, and when he surfaced, he’d never seen her look so beautiful: her eyes had drifted shut, her lips parted as if begging for more.
Happy to oblige.
He kissed her again, fighting to take it slow, but damn, his control was fraying with every touch. He parted her lips and sank his tongue deeper into her mouth, stroking against hers in a sensual dance that set the world on fire. She felt too good in his arms, her curves molding against him eagerly as she pressed closer and moaned against his mouth.
That sound was his undoing.
With a groan, Cooper grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up on the table, setting her down with a jolt. Poppy gasped in surprise, then wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him into the warmth of her body. Damn. Cooper dipped his head to kiss along the pale line of her collarbone, and Poppy shivered against his lips.
She was intoxicating. Everything was a blur besides her sweet mouth. To hell with the papers—he pushed them all aside as she looped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth back up to hers. He wanted to lay her out on the table and take her right there. Lose himself in her sweetness and never come up for air. He wanted—
SMASH.
A crashing sound pierced the haze of lust. Cooper looked up, bleary, and found their wine glasses in pieces on the floor.
“Whoops.” Poppy sat up. She was flushed and breathless, and so beautiful it hurt to look at her. So he kissed her again instead, teasing along her jawline and nibbling on her earlobe.
“But . . . the glass . . .” she murmured weakly. Your feet . . .”
“So I’ll keep them off the floor.” He scooted her further back on the table and tipped her horizontal, spread beneath him on the wood.
Poppy smiled up at him, hair spilled like a halo around her face. “So we’re trapped up here?”
“Looks like it.” He grinned back as she reached to hook her finger over the neck of his T-shirt. She slowly tugged him down to cover her.
This time, he didn’t hold back. He kissed her deeply, probing her hot mouth as her body arched up against him, her tongue sliding to match his own wet strokes. It was incredible, the heat igniting, deep inside. He ran one hand down her curves and felt her tremble at his touch, and lord, he loved how responsive she was, how he could see the effect he had on her, just as wild as the fire burning in his own veins.
He dipped to kiss her neck, and she moaned again, sliding her hands over his back. She was his, totally wanton in his arms, and damn, he felt invincible, like a king; her touch and sweet whimpers urging him on. He nipped her shoulder lightly and slid one hand to cup her breast, teasing the tender swell through her sweater until he couldn’t hold back any longer. He peeled her shirt up her body and slid his hands beneath the cotton to feel every inch of her smooth, hot skin.
Poppy wriggled beneath him, helping push her clothes over her head until she was bare beneath him in jeans and a lacy bra.
Goddamn she was gorgeous.
Cooper dipped to kiss her but Poppy pushed him back. “Play fair,” she said, breathlessly. Her eyes gleamed, and it took a moment for Cooper’s brain to function, but when he realized what she wanted, he laughed.
“Yes ma’am,” he said, and stripped his T-shirt off. “Better?”
“Much.” Poppy bit her lip, her eyes roving over him with desire written all over her face.
What was that he said about feeling like a king? Make that a god.
Cooper leaned in and kissed her lips again, her neck. He trailed his tongue down to the hollow of her collarbone and swirled it over her silky skin. He was ravenous for her, he wanted to feast on every inch of her, but he forced himself to go slow and savor every taste. He kissed lower, over the swell of her chest, whispering at the lacy edge of her bra. Poppy trembled again, unconsciously pressing against his mouth, and he couldn’t hold back another moment. He stroked her, teasing at the nub of her nipples as he closed his mouth over one stiff peak and sucked through the silk.
Poppy gasped, rising up against him. He toyed with her, nipping lightly through the fabric, and then turned his attention to her other perfect breast.
God, she was beautiful.
Poppy tangled her fingers in his hair, whimpering softly now. He skimmed lower, dusting her stomach with kisses, but couldn’t stop himself returning to those gorgeous breasts. He needed to see her.
He wanted to see everything.
Cooper peeled off her bra, and then lavished her with kisses as he unbuttoned her jeans. Poppy helpfully pushed them off, and then she was spread on the table beneath him, naked save a tiny scrap of silk between her thighs.
Cooper stared down at her, dizzy with lust. He wanted to freeze this image so he’d always remember it.
But he wanted to taste her more.
He leaned in, gripping her hips and lifting her to meet his mouth. He nudged the silk of her underwear as Poppy’s whole body went rigid with anticipation.
That’s right, darling. You know what I want.
And how good it’s going to feel.
Because Cooper wasn’t a competitive man, but the memory of her ex was still too fresh for his liking. He wanted her screaming his name, and only his, and he wasn’t going to stop until she was begging in his arms.
Starting now.
Poppy gripped hold of the edge of the table and tried to keep it together. But if Cooper kissing her was enough to make her body ignite, and him touching her sent her brain spinning, then Cooper nestled between her thighs peeling her underwear aside . . . ?
She had no words.
And Poppy always had words. It was her job, for crying out loud—to put these feelings into sentences and chapters for her readers to enjoy, describe the way her characters felt even as their blood ran hot and pure desire sent their thoughts scattering to the far reaches of the universe.
She was a writer. She was supposed to use her words. She was—
“Ooh.”
Cooper licked up against her and Poppy moaned out loud. God. What was he doing to her? With his lips, and his hot mouth, and—
His fingers?
Poppy gasped, pressing against him for more. He lapped at her in a maddening rhythm, swirling and sucking at her sensitive nub as one hand pinned her down in place and the other stroked lazily over her stomach and bare breasts. He toyed with one nipple, lightly pinching as his tongue dipped inside her, and god. Poppy gave up trying to process the sensations crashing through her, she just lay back and reveled in the waves of incredible pleasure Cooper was giving, driving her higher with every stroke until she was teetering on the edge of something, holding on for dear life.
“That’s right, darlin’,” he murmured against her, the vibration of his words whispering against her most sensitive spot. “Come for me.”
Poppy couldn’t help it. He licked at her again, and sent her f
lying.
She let go.
Oh my god.
The pleasure slammed through her, waves of delicious heat that somehow didn’t sate her, they just left her dizzy and gasping for more.
She wanted all of him. Now.
Before she could even try to pull herself together, Cooper was lifting her in his arms. He scooped her off the table like she weighed nothing and carried her up the stairs. “I always wanted to be swept off my feet,” she joked, and Cooper chuckled.
“Baby, I haven’t even started yet.”
He gave her a look that was so smoldering, she practically melted right there in the hallway. Oh boy. Poppy held on tight as he took her into the bedroom and placed her carefully on the bed. It was a rustic, clean room just like the rest of the house, with soft bedding she would have happily snuggled into and slept—if it wasn’t for the gorgeous man stripping off his clothing right in front of her, or the wild heat of desire still burning in her veins.
He glanced up and caught her watching him as he took off his pants. Poppy flushed, but she didn’t look away. She held his gaze, her pulse racing.
Cooper leaned over her on the bed and captured her lips in a blazing kiss.
If she’d thought their chemistry could burn the house down before, now, she knew Cooper was right: it was only the beginning. Body to body, skin to skin, this kiss did things to her she didn’t know were possible. Cooper slid his tongue deep into her mouth, and she moaned, reaching up to pull him closer. She ran her hands over his broad shoulders and taut muscles, greedy to touch as he returned the favor, stroking her body back to the brink with his roving fingers and strong, sure touch. Her hands moved lower, and Cooper groaned against her, making her bolder to tease and stroke at his hard length.
God, he felt so good.
Cooper pulled away, and Poppy let out a whimper of protest, but he was only reaching for the nightstand. He rolled on a condom, and then he was back, settling between her thighs—where he belonged.
He braced himself above her, teasing her mouth open as she felt him nudge at her entrance. Then slowly, he sank inside her.
