Page 43 of Wicked Love

“Me too,” Becca says, clapping her hands.

I put my arm around her shoulder and she smiles up at me. I smile back, my heart splitting wide open for this little girl who loves so freely. Bowie takes a few shots and then nods.

“These are nice.”

“I see,” Becca says.

Her grin splits wide open when she sees the pictures. I peer over her shoulder.

“I approve. Delightful,” I say, remembering how much she liked that word the first time we met.

“De-lightful,” she repeats.

“Should we take some by the pool too?” I ask.

“Yes!” she yells.

She runs out of the room and I follow.

“Thank you,” I hear Bowie say behind me.

“Are you kidding? Your daughter is a rock star.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DRAMA QUEENS

BOWIE

It’s nice to have an excuse to look at Poppy. I don’t like the way my heart thunders in my chest around her—I’ve become so accustomed to turning off my feelings that sometimes I forget I have one. This time, said heart is probably in a state because my daughter just once again broke it with the pictures, but there’s a good chance it’s also because Poppy is in our home.

She’s perfectwith Becca.

It hurts how perfect she is with her.

Scratch that. If I had a heart, it would hurt. But it’s proving me wrong right now, pounding complicated rhythms in my chest as I try not to be obvious with my staring.

Poppy’s hair is luminous in the solarium. With all the windows and light bouncing off the white gleaming walls and the blue water, she radiates even brighter. There’s a dull roar humming through my body, and I feel like Becca, grasping for reasons to make this woman stay longer.

My body doesn’t forget the way she felt. Every single nerve ending in my body is drawn to connect to hers again. To latch on like a magnet and not let go.

But that’s just because, as uninterested in sex as I like to pretend I am with my friends, my body actually does crave physical contact. Desperately. If not for the fact that I jack off at least once a day, I would’ve blown my load in Poppy a helluva lot quicker than what happened. As it was, it took every possible resource in my brainpower to hang on as long as I did. Now that I’ve had a taste of her, everything in me craves more.

And not just anyone, specificallyher.

That’s what’s so troubling.

It in no way scratched the itch.

I take a few pictures and Becca studies each one in delight. Poppy adds her approval too.

“These are great. If you text them to me, I will print them and have them ready the next time we see each other,” she tells Becca.

“I see you tomorrow,” Becca nods. Her excitement is off the charts.

Poppy laughs. “If you come to Briar Hill again, yes!” She wrinkles her nose when she looks at me. “I’m not sure if that’s what you had planned for your Saturday, but Iwillbeworking tomorrow.” Her eyes widen like she’s just thought of something, and I brace myself because she looks so fucking cute. “I don’t suppose you’d feel like helping with flag football tomorrow.”

“Oh. Not what I was expecting,” I say. I’m not sure what I was expecting since my head was envisioning her in my bed.

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