Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Fucking hell. I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep my hands off her in public. I run my thumb lightly over the thin material covering her waist, and she shivers under my touch, looking up at me through thick, dark lashes. My cock is harder than steel and my brain is seconds from fritzing, but I force myself to step back and tuck her hand into the crook of my arm. If I don’t keep moving, I’m going to throw her up against the nearest wall and make her scream my name.
The second we step inside, the hostess gives us a bored smile. She checks her list. “Right this way,” she chirps, but all I can think about is Poppy’s sweet ass brushing against me as we follow the hostess to the back booth.
After the waiter takes our drink orders, Poppy studies me for a beat. “So? Did you catch your killer?”
My job is the last fucking thing on my mind right now. “Yeah. Case was basically gift-wrapped. We had the guy on the security camera, clear as day. Even the ADA joked she could prosecute it in her sleep.” Honestly, it was one of the least complicated murders I’ve ever seen, but I don’t want to talk about blood and crime scenes with Poppy. I want to memorize every shade of pink in her cheeks and see how many times I can make her bite her lip before the night’s over.
I lean in, crowding the table, and lower my voice just for her. “But I don’t want to talk about any of that bullshit right now. Tonight, I want to hear everything about you. What you’re thinking, what you want… What you’re craving.” My hand covers hers on the table, and her pulse jumps. Fuck yes.
Her cheeks flush, just a little, and I swear she’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Her breathing goes all rapid, her tongue flicks out to wet her lips, and I practically feel her pulse thumping beneath my palm.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous like this. Flustered, hungry, and pretending she’s got any shot at hiding it from me.
She tries to play it casual, but her voice has that telltale, breathy edge. “What if I told you I’m craving something sweet?” Her gaze drops to my mouth, and my cock throbs so hard under the table I have to grit my teeth and clench my fists to keep from hauling her across the table and devouring her right here.
“Careful what you ask for, kitten. You keep looking at me like that, and I’m gonna skip straight to dessert.” The second the words leave my mouth, the universe decides to cock-block me with the arrival of our drinks. The waiter pops up next to our table, and I glare at him as he plunks down her glass of wine and my whiskey, then disappears fast. Smart man. I barely acknowledge the whiskey—I’m too busy watching my girl.
Poppy grabs her wine and takes a huge gulp, cheeks flushed and eyes still locked on mine. Fucking hell. That little move is so goddamn adorable my heart does a flip in my chest.
I grip the edge of the table so hard my knuckles go white. If I don’t focus all my energy on keeping it together, I’m going to drag Poppy across the damn tabletop and feast on her right here in the middle of the restaurant. My cock is rock-hard and my brain is offline, but somehow, I force a steadying breath.
I have to distract myself. Fast. I lean back in my seat, rolling my shoulders, pretending I’m cool and collected when every inch of me is strung tighter than a fucking live wire. “So, kitten,” I rumble, my voice barely above a growl, “why don’t you tell me a deep, dark secret?”
Her eyes go wide at the question, but I spot the faintest smirk tug at her lips. She’s not fooled for a second.
She leans forward, chin propped on her palm, and gives me a look so smug I want to wipe it off her face with my mouth. “A deep, dark secret, huh?” She lets the words hang in the air, teasing. “You first.”
Fuck, she’s goddamn perfect. “You want me to go first?” I take a slow sip of my whiskey. “Alright, kitten. Here’s a secret. All I could think about this week was you. It didn’t matter if I was on a case or in the gym. You were there. In my head. Under my skin.” My voice drops, pure gravel and promise. “Last night, I barely slept. All I did was imagine your sweet little body in that bed, thinking about me.”
Her lips part, and her throat works as she swallows. I watch her nipples pebble through that dress, and I barely keep from groaning out loud. Goddamn, she has no idea what she’s doing to me. Or maybe she does, because at this point, I’m seconds away from tossing her over my shoulder and carrying her out of here like a caveman.