She leaves the door open, allowing me to watch her legs as she disappears up the stairs. Her bedroom is probably up there. I wonder if I’ll ever get to see it. I fucking hope so.

I glance to the right, at the closet where I kissed her the last time I was here. I try not to think about how good she felt pressed up against me. How much I liked her hands on me. How much I want them on me again.

I back up and turn away, looking at the street instead. It seems to take forever before Poppy comes back down the stairs. She’s wearing a thin, pale sweater thing that doesn’t button, but covers her shoulders and arms. Her purse is a muted gold, as are her shoes. She locks her door and turns to me, her smile strained. I worry something I’ve done is the reason for that.

I slip my arm through hers and walk her down the stairs. Shit. The flowers and candy I bought for her are on the counter in my kitchen. I suck at this. I can drop them off at her work tomorrow and do better next time—if there is a next time.

“Wow. This is nice,” Poppy says as I open the car door for her and help her in.

“Thanks. I figured it’s a little classier than the Hummer, and maybe easier for you to get into.” I wink.

If I’d driven the Hummer I would’ve had to pick her up to put her in it.

I close the door and round the hood, sliding into the driver’s seat. I’m right about the trip not taking long. Poppy asks me questions, but I’m distracted, trying not to focus on how good she smells, or how much I want to put my hand on her bare thigh.

There’s a line at the valet, so we have to wait while the cars filter through. I tap on the steering wheel, impatient.

“We don’t have to do this,” Poppy says quietly.

I stop staring at the taillights of the Porsche in front of me to look at her. “What?”

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to take me out for dinner.”

“Obligated?”

She looks down at her lap. “If you’ve changed your mind, or you’re not interested anymore.”

The car in front of me moves up. “Whoa. Hold up. Why would you think this is a pity date? Or that I’m not interested anymore.”

She fidgets with the strap of her purse. Her hair is in her face, so I can’t see her expression.

“Poppy?” I tuck her hair back, and she shies away. I drop my hand. I won’t touch her if she doesn’t want me to. “Why would you think this is a pity date?”

She lifts one shoulder. “Because of what I told you. You didn’t want to come in for a drink, and now it seems like you can’t wait to get out of this car. You’ve hardly said a thing since you picked me up. I’m not stupid, Lance. I don’t want to sit through two hours of strained conversation because you feel some sense of duty to follow through.”

Here I thought I was doing everything in my power to not fuck this up, and in doing so, I’ve managed to screw myself anyway.

A knock on my window prevents me from answering right away.

I roll down the window a few inches. “Hold on.”

“If you exit the vehicle, sir—”

“Hold the fuck on.” I grab the valet ticket from him and close the window, slamming my finger on the lock button, despite his protest. “Let’s get something straight.” I shift the car into park and unbuckle my seatbelt. “This isn’t a pity date. The only reason I didn’t want to come in for a drink is because I’m pretty low on restraint, and this is the only thing I can think about right the fuck now.”

I slide my hand into her hair and angle her head to the side. I don’t do what I want to—which is fuck her mouth with my tongue. Instead I stop half an inch away. “Tell me no if you don’t want me to kiss you.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

I brush my lips over hers, soft, sweet, and then I suck her bottom lip between mine. She tastes like vanilla and perfection.

She grabs the sleeve of my jacket, so I figure I’m good to keep going for now. I slip my tongue into her mouth, all slow and easy. At least at first, but the second she starts responding and that hot, satin stroke meets mine, I kind of lose control. I lean in closer and rest my palm above her knee, squeezing so I keep it where it is and don’t go on a search-and-rescue mission to discover what kind of panties she’s wearing.

Aware my semi-good behavior isn’t going to last very long, I start to move my hand away, but Poppy grabs it and squeezes. I want her to drag it higher, up under that pretty, silky dress, but we’re sitting in front of the valet, so taking this further isn’t an option. Instead, I flip her hand over and bring it up to rest against the side of my neck, groaning when her warmth meets my skin. She makes a matching, but much more delicate sound.

I ignore the honk behind us and the knocking on the window until Poppy pulls away.

Then I drop my hand and sit back in my seat. “Did that feel like pity to you?”

She brings her fingers to her lips. “No.”

Valet guy knocks on my window again. Which is a good thing, because I’m about to reconsider this entire part of the night in favor of ordering in.

“Good. Let’s go have dinner with my really blue fucking balls. ”

CHAPTER 16

DESSERT

POPPY

Lance has his arm threaded through mine as we navigate the uneven walkway to the restaurant. I’m not used to heels, so he’s supporting me a lot more than he might realize.

The host shows us to our table. It’s in a private, secluded area of the restaurant, right beside a fireplace, so I shed my shrug. Like last time, Lance pulls his chair closer so he’s perpendicular to me rather than across the table.