than she’d thought possible.
“Shit,” Turner exhaled.
With her hand still wrapped around him, she eased her head back to free him from her mouth. Rolling her lips around her teeth, Poppy didn’t want to face his disappointment. Some things seemed so right, so perfect in the second. Hormones collided and endorphins burst, and it just made sense. It had made sense to her. But he wouldn’t feel the same way.
Resting her face against him, Poppy was torn. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, closing her eyes.
“Candy-Cane,” he said, his voice firm. He got hold of her arms and pulled her back up the bed. Rather than pull away, he pulled her close, wrapping both arms around her to hold her against him. “No more apologies.”
“I stopped the last time, I don’t know why I didn’t…”
The paint fumes had caused her to be light-headed, sure, but Poppy hadn’t been lying when she said she fell asleep. She wasn’t ill or under the influence. Pleasuring him had been her choice. She’d wanted to do it. Her own selfish desire had taken over.
“We really suck at following rules.” The light air of amusement in his voice was unexpected. Pushing her head back, in opposition to his stroking hands, Poppy was even more surprised to find him smiling. “Even our own.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Baby,” he said on a laugh, pressing another kiss to her head. “You ever hear of a guy getting mad after head?” Pondering that point, Poppy couldn’t come up with an example. “Hell, I’m sorry, for going off so fast. I swear to God, my stamina is usually better than that… Guess you’ve been pushing me to the edge too often.”
“Turner,” she said, using her hands to push on him and give herself a little more room, so she could look at him better. “Did you think I’d be mad?”
“Hey, baby, you were driving,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear to dip down and murmur against it. “Now I owe you one.”
Being in his arms, languishing in the cool air from the open window and balcony door, Poppy found herself in a perfect moment. It didn’t take long for her to begin imagining what it might be like to wake up with him every day. To go to bed with him. To be allowed to touch him or have him inside her any time they wanted.
That was the ultimate dream. To be his. Turned out Poppy was a simple girl at heart. Home. Hearth. Security. Love. Not a thought about money or the material. She smiled to herself: her mother would be outraged.
SEVENTEEN
Picturing their life together was easy, if she only took them into consideration. But they had the kids to think about too. They’d have to keep their distance whenever the little ones were around. Poppy didn’t have a problem with him taking his time. Eventually, maybe he’d introduce his offspring to her.
Poppy steeled herself. “Can I ask you something?”
“Mm.”
From the distance of his response, she’d guess he was maybe drifting toward sleep himself.
Swallowing her trepidation, Poppy knew they’d have to broach the subject at some point. “How old is the baby?”
There was a pause. A long pause. “Two,” he responded, definitely awake.
“Two,” she repeated, wondering what it would be like to be responsible for a toddler. “Boy or girl?”
He shifted, loosening his embrace. “How do you know about—Charley’s been talking about the kids?”
“No, yesterday, I—I’m not trying to pry and I’m not upset. I absolutely understand why you’d want to protect your children. It’s absolutely the right thing to do.”
Changing their position, his arms stayed loose around her, but he budged back to frown at her. “The baby is a girl, but she’s not mine.” He shunted back another few inches. “You thought the kids were mine? And what do you mean yesterday? You never showed yesterday.”
Okay, well… foolish for Poppy to open her mouth without having all the facts. She’d really have to stop doing that. “I thought… she’d have told you.” Grasping for him, she tried to pull Turner closer. “Forget I said anything. Just hold me again.”
“No,” he said, clearly annoyed. “You were at my place yesterday?” Poppy didn’t open her mouth. “You showed up at my place and… what happened?” The last thing she wanted to do was cause more friction in what could be an already difficult relationship. “Poppy?”
“Nothing,” she said, sitting up when it was clear he wasn’t in the snuggly mood anymore. “Nothing happened.”
The straps of her bra slipped on her arms, reminding her