by Lila Monroe
“But the donuts are all the way over there.” Poppy grins.
I laugh and kiss her again, before finally letting go. “OK, donuts are allowed. But you better be wearing way less clothing when I get back.”
I head out, pretty much power-walking further into the woods to Jasmine’s cabin. When I knock on the door, she answers, looking startled. “Dylan! I thought we were meeting at the restaurant.”
“There’s been a change of plans . . .”
“Me too,” she says, before I can explain. “One of my clients is having a personal crisis, back in the city. I’m afraid I have to leave tonight.”
“Oh.”
Jasmine must take my response as disappointment. “Listen, it’s been great hanging out here, and you’re a really awesome guy, but—”
“But you and me isn’t going to happen,” I finish for her, relieved. “That’s OK, I understand.”
“You do?” Jasmine exhales. “You’re so sweet. The timing just isn’t right for me. Maybe we can get a drink sometime, back in the city?”
“Sure,” I reply, already wanting to wrap this up and get back to Poppy. “Sounds good. Should I call someone to help with your bags?”
“No, I have it handled,” Jasmine replies.
“Then great! Have a safe trip!” I tell her, then I turn and jog back the way I came. Rude? Maybe, but Jasmine doesn’t seem to care. And this had better be the last damn interruption, because there’s no way I’m letting anything else come between me and Poppy tonight. The whole lodge could burn to the ground, but I am officially off duty.
This is happening. Tonight.
18
Poppy
Is this really happening?
I pace back and forth in the cabin, my nerves in a jumble, and my heart racing in double-quick time. I’m still on fire from that kiss . . . and everything it means.
He doesn’t want to be with Jasmine.
He wants me.
I almost can’t believe it, and at the same time, I feel like I’ve been waiting for this since the moment he said goodbye and chivalrously left me after our hot makeout back in the city. There was no way something that scorching hot could be a one-off. It’s like the universe demanded we give it another try and finish the job.
Or something like that. Now I almost wish I hadn’t sent Dylan to go break things off with Jasmine. Being swept up in the heat of the moment is one thing, but what if he has time now to cool off and change his mind? I mean, one look at Jasmine’s perfect skin and tiny pores would make me reconsider eating carbs, so why did I send him right back to the woman he’s been pining for since he was sixteen?
No.
I take a deep breath. This is the crazy talking. If I can survive in the wilderness, then I can make it through ten minutes in this luxury cabin alone. But this is uncharted territory for me.
And speaking of uncharted territory . . .
I shaved my legs this morning, so that’s covered. And as for the Southern hemisphere . . . I sneak a peek under my pajamas and breathe a sigh of relief. Not entirely overgrown. But cartoon Wonder Woman isn’t exactly a seductive look—at least, I don’t think so, not for Dylan. He strikes me more as a Black Widow kind of guy. So, should I change into something slinkier?
I race over to my weekend bag and rifle through. But slinky wasn’t high on my packing list when I was prepping for the trip. Fluffy socks? Yes. Red silk lingerie? Not so much. I find a basic blank tank that at least doesn’t have KAPOW! emblazoned on it, but then I pause. If I change, he’ll know I changed. Is that trying too hard? Should I still be playing it cool?
Oh, who am I kidding? It’s kind of hard to pretend I’m not panting for him when I was practically grinding on him just five minutes ago.
Speaking of which . . . I rifle through my makeup case and find the strip of condoms I optimistically put there six months ago. And they haven’t even hit their expiration date yet. Phew. I stash them in my pajama pocket. At least that part is covered. Or, at least it will be.
I eat a donut to calm myself . . . and then another one. I’m considering a taste of the chocolate-glazed, just for luck, when the door swings open and Dylan walks back in.
Oh, hell yes.
I keep from hurling myself straight into his arms. “Hey,” I say instead, trying to sound seductive and sultry. “Did it go OK?”
“Fine,” he replies, closing the door behind him. “I think she was about as relieved as me.”
“Good.”
I pause, suddenly awkward, because now we’re not swept up in the heat of the moment. Now, we’re standing on opposite sides of the cabin—and we both know exactly what’s about to happen next.
“You’ve got . . .” He gestures to my face, grinning.
Crap.
I swipe at my chin. “Frosting,” I blurt.
Dylan strolls closer and dips is head to kiss my mouth. “Mmm,” he murmurs, licking the edge of my mouth. “Delicious.”
I sink against him, sighing in pleasure. Now, this is better than a sugar rush. He captures my mouth again, and the kiss deepens. Hard and hot and slow. I grab hold of his shirt for balance, and Dylan runs his hands up under my pajama top. He chuckles.
“What?” I demand, breathing heavily. He leans in to nip lightly at my neck.
“I like these,” he says, tugging at my shirt. “I’d like them more off you.”
I smile. “That can be arranged.”
I’m expecting him to tear my clothes off, but instead, Dylan unbuttons me slowly, dropping hot kisses down my collarbone and over the swell of my breast. I gasp, arching eagerly against him, but the man takes his time, touching me everywhere, pausing to kiss my lips again, until I’m practically melted into a pool of desire on the floor.
I’m not so patient. I tug his shirt off in one go over his head, and I take a moment to admire the view.
Delicious indeed.
Dylan arches an eyebrow. “Are you done gawking?” he teases, hands playing at my waist.
I grin. “Not just yet. Turn around, will you?”
He laughs and pulls me closer again. “Minx,” he murmurs, walking us both back towards the couch. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I have some ideas . . .” I tug at the waistband of his jeans, but Dylan moves my hands away. He shakes his head slowly, a devilish smile on his face. “You first,” he says. “Take off your panties.”
My pulse races at his firm tone. I never got the whole Fifty Shades domination thing before now, but I’m starting to see the appeal. “Is that an order?” I ask, breathless.
“Do you want it to be?” Dylan asks steadily.
Yes please.
I blush. We’ve gone from zero to panty-melting in about sixty seconds flat, and I’m afraid that any minute now, my brain is going to catch up and find a way to overthink this. But Dylan seems to understand exactly how I’m feeling, because he just kisses me again, until I’m splayed back on the couch in a breathless tangle of lust, and I couldn’t overthink it even if I tried.
What’s my name again?
Dylan licks down my neck, and I shudder, running my hands over the broad, muscular planes of his back. His body is hard against me, and his personal trainer deserves a raise, because, wow. I feel every inch of him, greedy for more, as his fingertips trace a tantalizing path over my ribcage . . . around my stomach . . . down between my thighs—
I gasp as he dips under the waistband of my pajama pants. Dylan slowly strokes lower, raising himself up on his elbow to watch my expression as he teases, and caresses, and drives me crazy with wanting him. But it’s not enough. I lean up to kiss him harder, arching against his hand, impatient. He chuckles against me.
“More?” he asks, tracing so lightly over my clit, I almost moan in frustration.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Please.”
Dylan increases the pressure, just a little, just enough to make my blood burn. He dips a finger to my entrance, teasing at my slick heat. I bite down on his shoulder in frustration,
and he smiles.
“Here?”
“Yes,” I gasp.
“Like this?”
Oh fuck.
I sink my head back, surrendering completely as he slides one finger inside me, then another. He flexes slowly, still keeping up the pressure on my clit, and I swear, I’ve never been so turned on in my life. “Dylan . . .” I moan, as he bends his head, licking slow circles around my nipples until they’re taut and aching.
“Dylan, please . . .”
Fuck, I don’t know how much more I can take of this exquisite torture. His slow hands and stroking fingers, and the clawing desire that’s consuming my body . . . I’m strung out, arched and ready to break, his mouth still moving over me, blazing fire across my skin.
“Please, what?” he teases me, thrusting his fingers deeper . . . and then pulling back, stroking me softly again.
“I hate you,” I half-laugh, half moan. Dylan grins,
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes—OH!”
He suddenly moves down my body, stripping off my pajama pants, and settling between my thighs. He licks up against me in one hot swoop, and fuck, I have to grab hold of the couch to keep from losing my mind. Because his mouth is on me now, his tongue driving me wild, and all the while his fingers thrust and flex and oh my God, I can’t hold back anymore—
I come apart, pleasure crashing through me as Dylan licks me through my climax.
Oh. My. God.
“What was that?” I ask, when I finally come back down to earth. I lift my head and see him sitting up with a supremely satisfied expression on his face.
“That?” Dylan grins. “Nothing. Just a preview, baby.”
I laugh and throw a cushion at him. “I can’t even be mad at you for being so smug,” I say, flopping back, exhausted. “Because, wow.”
“Say that again?”
“You heard me.” I’ve got a ridiculous smile on my face, and my hair is probably sticking out in all directions, but I don’t even mind. I feel incredible. “No need to gloat.”
“It’s not gloating for a man to take pride in his work.” Dylan is chuckling.
“Well, I applaud your diligence. A plus marks all around.”
“Good to know.” Dylan tugs me into his lap and gives me a slow, lazy kiss. At least, the pace is lazy, but the way my pulse kicks at his touch is anything but sleepy.
Maybe I’m not so tired, after all . . .
I wrap my arms around his neck and move so I’m straddling him. I arch against his body, and feel his cock, hard between us. “Hello . . .” I murmur, dropping kisses along his jaw. I rock against him again, and Dylan groans.
“Poppy . . .”
“Yes?” Now it’s my turn to arch an eyebrow, stroking lower over the chiseled muscles of his delicious chest. I reach the waistband of his jeans, and pause, toying with the button fly. “More?”
He nods, his eyes dark on mine.
I pop a button, and then another one.
His breath slows, labored, as I slowly free him.
Hello indeed.
Damn, his cock is gorgeous. Thick, hard, and straining against my hand. I stroke him slowly, planning to return the favor and drive him wild . . . but I want him too much to wait. I retrieve my pajama pants from where Dylan tossed them over the couch and pull the condoms from the pocket.
“You prepared,” Dylan grins.
“I’m a regular girl scout,” I reply, opening a packet and sliding it over his hard length. Then I rise up and slowly sink down on him, guiding him inside me until he’s sheathed. Filling me up.
Oh. My. God.
He feels amazing inside me, and I have to pause a moment, adjusting to the delicious stretch. Then I clench around him, and Dylan groans. “Fuck, Poppy . . .”
He grips my thighs, leaning up to kiss me, our tongues tangling as I start to move. I find a rhythm, rocking against him, and God, the friction is too good for words. The sweet ache builds inside of me, higher, faster—
Dylan rolls us suddenly, moving me beneath him. He pins my hands up over my head, kissing me senseless as he thrusts into me again.
Holy shit.
It’s deep, and hard, and everything I need. He pulls back, then thrusts again, deeper this time, and I cry out with the pleasure. Dylan groans, fucking me harder, and God, I can’t get enough. I can’t think straight, I can barely breathe. We’re a pounding mass of hands and thrusts, and hungry mouths, driving each other higher, closer to the brink. And then he reaches between us, and finds my clit, rubbing right there, and fuck— I come apart with a scream, clenching around him as Dylan thrusts again, fucking me through my climax in a fresh wave of pleasure until he finally explodes, shuddering in my arms.
We fall, exhausted, into the cushions.
Dear God, if that was just the preview and main course . . . what has he got in store for dessert?
19
Poppy
If they gave out girlfriend report cards the way they did in grade school, mine would read: Does not sleep well with others. But despite the fact I have a hundred and ninety-pound stranger sleeping in my bed—mumbling and breathing, and radiating heat like he’s some kind of nuclear reactor—I miraculously manage to get a few hours of shut-eye, and I wake feeling shockingly well rested and rejuvenated, considering all the, uh, athletic pursuits that kept me up until the early hours.
Move over, NyQuil. It turns out, orgasms are the ultimate sleep aid. And I have my provider right here—no prescription required.
I roll over and take a peek at the man responsible. He’s passed out, arms and legs splayed like he owns the bed, looking annoyingly handsome for first thing in the morning. While I’m pretty sure my hair could home some nesting sparrows and I have stubble burn on my chest, he’s lying there like some kind of slumbering Greek statue—complete with perfectly sculpted abs and a sexy trail of tawny hair leading under the covers to—
“Morning.”
Dylan’s eyes open suddenly, and I let out a shriek of surprise. “Like what you see?” he smirks, and I give him a playful shove.
“You scared me!”
“I think I see a little drool . . .” He teasingly reaches up to wipe my mouth—then rolls me beneath him, kissing me in a lazy way that makes me melt.
Mmmm . . .
I sigh with satisfaction, my body waking up all over. Now this beats an alarm clock, that’s for sure. “You should offer yourself as a wake-up service,” I joke, running my hands over his bare chest. “That would definitely earn you a five-star review.”
Dylan smirks. “I’ve got that locked down already . . . if last night was anything to go by.”
He pulls me back for another sizzling kiss, then he hops out of bed. For a moment, I’m more distracted by the view than the fact he’s getting up. But just a moment. “Ahem,” I say, patting the empty space in bed beside me. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Dylan grins. “I have a staff meeting in ten minutes. So unless you want me walking in like this . . .” He gestures to his nakedness.
“Fine, I’ll allow it,” I agree, smiling. “Besides, I need breakfast.”
“You’re hungry?” Dylan’s eyebrows shoot up. “We polished off those donuts like, three hours ago.”
“And then you made me work up an appetite all over again,” I remind him. I slide out of bed, and find the hotel robe where he left it on the floor.
“Good point.” Dylan yanks on his pants, then tugs me to him again. “You should eat hearty,” he says, his lips grazing my ear. “Because I’ve got plans for you . . .”
I feel a delicious shiver. “Oh really? A tour of the hotel grounds?” I ask, teasing. “Or perhaps another hike?”
“Don’t even joke about that.” Dylan’s arms tighten around me. “Promise me you won’t go wandering off again.”
I look up. He’s still smiling, but there’s a serious note in his expression. I remember how worried he was yesterday, and I feel myself melt all over again.
�
�Promise,” I agree. “I plan to spend the day basking, lounging, and doing otherwise non-moving activities.”
“Good.” Dylan kisses my forehead and releases me, fishing his shirt from the floor where I’m pretty sure I tossed it last night. “Are you still planning on heading back to the city tomorrow?”
“I think I have to,” I sigh regretfully. I wish I could stay here forever, but the real world is still waiting for me to get my ass together. “I have other clients waiting on work from me,” I explain. “And I promised April to help her out with some wedding floral prep. What about you?”
“I need to stay a couple more days to make sure everything stays on track,” Dylan replies. “But I’ll be free tonight, for dinner . . .”
“Are you asking me out on a date?” I tease. “Hmm, I’ll have to consult my schedule.”
“Well, have your assistant call my assistant if you find a window.” Dylan laughs.
“See, you’re joking, but you actually have an assistant!”
“Who glowers at me all day,” he reminds me.
“Aww, Lara’s a softie really, I bet,” I reply, yawning. “I saw her laughing with Kyle’s kids by the water the other day.”
“Because she was teaching them how to fill water balloons so they could go terrorize me,” Dylan counters.
I snort. “Delegating responsibilities, she’s a born leader.”
He finishes buttoning his shirt. “So, is that a yes for dinner?”
“Of course,” I finally agree, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Like you said, I need to refuel if you have plans for me . . .”
“Oh, I do.” With a final knee-weakening kiss, Dylan heads for the door, and I finally look around at the mess we’ve made of the cabin. Bedding scattered on the floor, empty room-service trays, not to mention my underwear draping off a lamp . . . I know the perks of hotel sex are that you don’t have to clean up the morning after, but there’s no way I can let the housekeeping staff see the room in this state. It basically screams, “I had the best sex of my life last night.”