comes with a shaking spasm and I growl deeply at the sexy sight.
My cock is about to explode, and I ride that edge of pain and pleasure as long as I can before I erupt, hot spurts of my cum splattering all over the kitchen cabinets and floor. There’s no trying to hold this back, no trying to save the mess with the power of my release.
My knees unlock, and I have to plant my hand on the edge of the countertop to prevent myself from dropping to the floor. Gasping and feeling my heart pound in my chest, I blink slowly to clear the stars in my vision.
Holy fucking shit.
I can’t move for long moments, my body shaky from what I just did. Finally, with weak legs, I find a dish rag and wipe up the mess.
When I’m sure everything is cleaned up, I throw the rag into the laundry room and wash my hands. While I suds up, I look out the window once more to see that Poppy’s not in her kitchen anymore. But the dining room light is on.
“Good girl. Get some work done.”
I don’t know what romantic bullshit ideas she’s planted in my head, but for some reason, I blow her a kiss. And then promptly, I shake my head at the ridiculous move. I can’t even see her, but I’m going soft-hearted.
What I need to do is take a hot shower and get a good night’s sleep so I’m strong enough to resist Poppy tomorrow. And get her laptop back.
“See you in the morning.”
Chapter 14
Poppy
I’m a little bleary, but so happy and relieved that I don’t mind it. After Connor left and I took a few minutes to relieve my immediate tension, I changed clothes and got to writing. And other than stopping to take the boys out to do their business and eat a trio of granola bars, I didn’t stop working until three in the morning.
Three whole chapters. I almost never get three chapters done in a single writing session. They’ll need editing, lots of it, but I can finally feel it. The writer’s block is totally dissolved, all the juices flowing, the characters talking, the moments building into overlapping layers.
But now it’s morning. And I’m running late, rolling out of bed fifteen minutes ago to scrub the fuzz off my teeth and let the boys out to do their thing while drinking my first cup of coffee.
Connor said we’d go back to the pawn shop, and I need my laptop so I can weave the manuscript and what I’ve written on this cheap backup together into one master file.
I peek out the window to make sure he’s not already in the driveway. I wouldn’t put it past him to try to sneak away without me. Hmm, I might have to plant myself in his truck again if I want to be sure I can go.
And I definitely do.
Shit . . . I’ve got to get a move on. Slugging down the rest of my cup, I hop in the shower, scrubbing down as fast as I can. Yanking on jeans and a T-shirt, I glance in the mirror. My hair is half bun, half rat’s nest, but there’s no time to do anything for it. Instead, I give myself exactly two minutes to swipe mascara on my fair eyelashes.
I grab my tennis shoes just in case there’s a little light breaking and entering at the pawn shop. Because I am not leaving there without my laptop today. With one shoe on and one shoe off, my phone rings. Any other time, I’d ignore it, especially since it’s an unknown number.
But there’s a chance it’s Connor.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Miss Woodstock? Poppy Woodstock?”
Ugh, a telemarketer. I really don’t have time for this.
“No,” I say slowly. “Can I take a message?”
I’m hopping around, trying to slip on my other shoe and only half listening since I’m expecting another freaking call about my car’s extended warranty. Don’t these guys ever give up? And has anyone in the history of ever been like ‘why, yes, tell me more about your program’? I sincerely doubt it.
“It’s extremely important that I speak with Miss Woodstock immediately. It’s regarding a matter we discussed previously.”
Something about the voice breaks through the chorus in my head, and I pause, my eyebrows knitting together. “Wait, what? Who is this?”
“Detective Jax Carter.”
“Are you serious?” I snap, instantly angry that this asshat is calling me after blowing me off when I needed some help. It’s only