Page 18 of Wicked Love

CHAPTER SIX

BARRICADE

POPPY

While Bowie’s been in the bathroom, I’ve arranged a row of pillows down the center to keep me on my side of the bed. However, when he slides into bed next to me, everything in me wakes up. I want to scoop those pillows off the bed and toss them across the room.

No, you’re exhausted!I shout at myself.Ignore the hot man in your bed and go to sleep, ma’am.

“Thanks for sharing your room. I’m sorryyou got more than you bargained for with this night…and with a non-friend at that.”

He chuckles and the sound skitters over my skin like pixie dust. The pillows between us shift slightly as he gets comfortable.

“Please don’t take anything I say personally. I’m an ass. Especially when I don’t have alcohol in my system…but yeah, even when I do, apparently.”

“Oh, so alcohol makes you a little looser-lipped?” I giggle.

“You could say that.”

“Probably why you danced with me as well, I take it?”

“Uh…that was probably more because you’re beautiful and you looked fucking amazing in that blue dress. But yeah, we can thank the alcohol for the way I’m admitting any of that right now.”

My skin heats and every part of me bristles with awareness of how close we are to each other right now.

“Wow,” I say softly. “Thank you, alcohol.”

He chuckles and because I’ve heard it so infrequently from him, I’m addicted to making that happen again.

“Good night, Poppy,” he says.

His voice is huskier…and closer. We danced together all night, but this is the most talking we’ve done. It sure was fun, all of it. He made me feel beautiful and special and like I was capable of holding his attention the whole time. He didn’t turn away to dance with anyone else even once.

The curtains are still open, so the room isn’t pitch black, and we lie there like two wooden planks.

I force myself to turn onto my side, away from him. “Good night, Bowie.”

It takes time, but his breathing evens out and I eventually fall asleep too. I dream I’m in California with Marley and then thedream morphs and I’m in a dark room with Bowie. We’re wearing our wedding clothes and instead of staring at me as we dance, his lips meet mine. It’s such a good kiss, it almost feels real, and I tell myself to stay in this dream for as long as possible.

When he hitches my leg over his thigh and pulses against me, I gasp and kiss him harder.

I hear a groan and my eyes fly open. Bowie and I are pressed against each other, hearts pounding hard, our lips a breath apart. The pillows are nowhere to be found. We’ve managed to work our way around them. Bowie’s hand is on my waist, touching my bare skin under my tank top. With his other hand, he reaches up and pushes my hair back.

“I thought I was dreaming,” I whisper.

“Me too.”

I expect him to pull away, but instead he stares at me, his gaze heated. And then he leans in, and this time, I know I’m not dreaming when his lips touch mine. He tastes like peppermint, so we haven’t been asleep for long. I gasp into his mouth, the zing of electricity that zaps between us taking my breath away for a second, and then I tug his head closer so I can taste more of him. He lets out a ragged groan and it fuels me. My hands explore the wide expanse of his back and I grip his biceps, eager to feel every inch of him. His hand slides down to my backside and he squeezes, tugging me tighter against him. I moan when I feel how hard and long he is. I can feel the heat radiating off of him through our layers. I want to rip his shirt off and shove the pajama pants down so I can feel him bare against me. When our lips finally break apart, he kisses down my neck and moves down to my breast, where his tongue traces over my hard peak over the tank top.

I tug his hair, loving that it’s long enough for me to get a good grip. All those sites I’ve seen talking about Bowie Fox’shair can’t even grasp how good itfeels, and how insanely sexy his bedhead is. He looks up, his stare pinning me to the bed, and I’m a puddle.

It’s been a really long time since I’ve had sex or even kissed someone, and I can’t quite believe this is happening right now.

With Bowie Fox.

I shift, needing more, so much more, and he lowers his head, his nose sliding my shirt up as he places soft kisses on my stomach. I’m brazen and slide my tank over my head, and he groans his approval when he sees me. His mouth latches onto me, his hand pinching the tip on my other side, and I writhe against him.

“You feel so good,” he says, his voice raspy.

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