And there she is, right in the middle of it.
The flowers bounce along the grasping hands to tumble to the dance floor, where the women scramble for it like football players going after a greased fumble. Caylee hikes up her dress and scoots back from the incoming wave of women with a shout encouraging them to ‘get it!’
It’s a heap of tulle, lace, and pretty dresses, but Poppy squirms over and around them, dodging and weaving before popping up with the slightly crushed flowers in her hands. “Boo-yah!” She holds it up high in triumph, and the other women laugh, instantly realizing that they were going ham over a dozen roses they could buy at the grocery store.
But it’s about the symbolism and tradition.
Caylee's clapping, and when she catches my eye, she mouths to me, “I like her. Don’t fuck up.”
Poppy returns to the table holding the bouquet like a trophy. “I caught it!”
I pull her down, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Well, you grabbed it off the floor.”
“Same difference. It’s mine, and you know what that means,” she sing-songs happily.
For a moment, the whole thing feels . . . real. Like she’s really mine, like we’re really engaged, like we’re actually going to get married.
It’s a great gift from Caylee to me, even if she doesn’t know she’s giving it.
Chapter 19
Connor
“Tonight was amazing,” Poppy says as we climb in my truck to leave the reception.
Across the console, I take her hand and trace her fingers with my own. I need to touch her, want to keep this feeling of a fairy tale come to life alive inside me for as long as I can.
We’re about halfway home when Poppy turns to me. “Connor, pull over.”
“What?” I ask, immediately worried. “Are you okay?”
“Pull over up there,” she says, pointing to a spot just off the road. I do, noticing that we’re in a pretty out of the way turn off. The reception was held up in the hills surrounding town, and right now, we’re practically alone with no headlights visible for miles.
I shift into park and turn to Poppy. “Poppy, I—”
My words are cut off as she practically lunges across the center console, kissing me hard. I kiss her back, running my hands through the thickness of her hair to hold her close so I can take her mouth even deeper.
She’s my air, my breath, my being, and I can’t get enough of her. It’ll never be enough.
I can’t explain it. It’s just . . . Poppy.
I’ve wanted her all night, maybe even longer. Maybe since I last left her heaven, but I’ve been trying to be good, waiting until we got back home at least. But the time for waiting is over. She wants me right here, right now, and I’m more than willing to give her what she wants.
“Wait,” I growl as she tries to crawl over the console between us and bangs her head on the roof. “Back seat.”
Poppy’s eyes cut to the back bench seat of my truck, and she grins wide, her teeth flashing in the dim light from the dash. “Meet you back there . . . naked.”
I laugh as she dives over the console, going ass over head as she climbs through the cab. I’ve got my pants undone before I get my door unlocked, yanking my shirt open Superman-style as my feet hit the dirt. Buttons go flying, but fuck it.
Poppy’s upright and waiting for me when I get the back door open, and through the miracle of a well-designed dress, she’s already nude except for a pair of blue see-through panties that frame her hips deliciously.
I climb in, closing and locking the door behind me, and the dome light dims. We don’t need it, anyway. I already know Poppy’s body by memory, and I don’t want to risk anyone else seeing us from the side of the road. Because she’s mine.
“Come here,” I tell her, shifting my body around. I don’t want to crush her underneath me, so I sit upright with my legs spread wide.
Poppy’s petite height comes into good use as she crawls into my lap and settles in on bent legs to press her core against my throbbing cock. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her down again and again, teasing us both with what we desperately want.
She moans loudly in my ear, and I squirm, trying to find leverage in the tight back seat to give her more of a stroke, even through the