Page 77 of Special Delivery
He came over and put his hands on the railing on either side of her, only inches from her butt. ‘I’m feeling turned on, if you must know.’
Poppy felt a shiver reverberate down from her navel. She slid off the railing so she was standing centimetres from his chest. She steadied her breath and grinned. ‘Lucky I’m so short then, since we’re such goodfriends.’ She ducked under his arm and walked into the stables pavilion, feeling his gaze on her back. He chuckled and followed.
‘Where are you taking me, McKellar?’
‘No idea,’ said Poppy, wandering deeper into the building where the lighting was definitely not friend-zone-y. Most of the pens were empty, the chaff bags hanging untouched from the railings. She reached the end of the corridor and turned around to find James standing in front of her. The light was perilously dim, heightening her senses. There was a fizzing in her abdomen she was trying to ignore.
‘Hi,’ said Poppy, rooted to the ground.
‘Hi,’ he responded.
‘Hi,’ she said again. Goddamn that malfunctioning brain of hers.
‘Hi,’ he said, playing along. He was making her squirm on purpose, she could tell. His eyes were slightly crinkled and his lower lip had shifted to the left; he was clearly enjoying this.
‘Should we go?’ asked Poppy.
He smiled. ‘No.’
‘No?’ Poppy squeaked. There was a war going on inside her. Her brain was screaming:Remind him we’re friends!Her traitorous body was telling her mind to shut the eff up. This guy could melt her resolve like butter.
‘I was thinking,’ began James, closing the space between them, ‘that the best thing about being friends with someone is that you can change your mind.’
‘About what?’ whispered Poppy, her adrenal glands on the verge of combusting.
‘This dress, for example. I used to love it, but now I think I’d rather get rid of it.’ He pressed himself against her and his hand found the slit in her dress.
A tiny moan escaped Poppy and she arched against him as his hand slid up her thigh. Body was triumphing over brain.
Their stomachs met and goosebumps rippled across her skin, a heavy want was gathering behind her ribs and belly button and all the places they were touching. James’s other hand skimmed over the silk to hold her waist and he shifted her against the wall. Poppy levered against it to push back into him. This was probably not a good idea, but hell, she’d come this far.
Her breath hitched and she heard his do the same. Her heart was drumming in her chest as his hands manoeuvred the silk of her dress higher and higher until he could feel the lace of her underwear.
‘Fuck being friends,’ he whispered as he ran his hands over her thighs.
Poppy tried to argue but all that came out was a breathless whimper. She wound her hands into the fabric of his shirt, tugging it free from his waistband. James’s lips parted hers with the lightest of touches and his tongue slid over hers. His hands skimmed up and down her torso, gliding from breast to thigh and back, and her body yielded under his touch, desperate for more. She pressed herself against him and his hands rose to her jaw, angling her mouth to his as he kissed her deeper. His fingertips were warm and strong, and they were somehow everywhere.
Poppy tugged the blazer off his shoulders letting it fall onto the dusty floor. She slid her hands up his back, feeling the resistance of his muscles. She caught the hem of his shirt and prised it up. He finished the job, pulling it over his head to reveal his broad shoulders. One hand gripped her waist and the other moved up to the lace of her underwear. His fingers lingered on her outer thigh, suggesting everything but forcing nothing.
James’s inky gaze narrowed in on her, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he moved both hands to her zipper, and carefully undid it. The fabric bunched uselessly at her waist. They were half-naked in a dusty hay-strewn stable and nothing in the world had ever felt sexier.
Ravenously, Poppy lunged at his belt.
‘Are you sure?’ whispered James, his hands skimming her back, searching for her bra hook.
Poppy arched into him, guiding his hands there. ‘You’re asking that now?!’ They were already at criminal levels of public indecency.
He laughed. ‘I failed on the friends thing.’ He pulled away slightly as he moved her bra strap down her arm, his dark eyes following with an almost giddy sheen.
In the distance, a bell sounded and a voice carried over a PA system. ‘First bus leaves in ten minutes.’
Poppy’s stomach dropped. ‘Shit!’ she cried, jerking away from him. ‘Fuck, I’m supposed to be on that bus. With Dani. Fuck, I’d forgotten all about her. What time is it?’
James still had his hands around her back, her bra was half off. ‘Do you really need to go?’ he asked.
Poppy face-palmed herself. ‘Yes,’ she groaned. ‘I’m such a shit friend. How long have we been here?’
James squinted at his watch through the dark. ‘Not that long. I’m sorry—I shouldn’t haven’t dragged you here.’
