“I can live there as well. All my stuff is still there, though not in your reality. If you went around you’d see all the new people’s crap. I’m sort of superimposed on their existence. We aren’t aware of each other. Seekers can see other seekers, but that’s all.” He sighed. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. Should I go to work? Do I need money? What—”
“I’m not a seeker. How come I can see you and feel you?”
Joe stroked her face. “I don’t know, but I’m glad you can.”
Poppy smiled and melted against him like ice-cream dropped on a hot pavement.
“I should have left a will. I never got round to it. What happened to my millions? More important, who’s got my signed Lord of the Rings script?”
“Your overdraft and the script went to a relative in Nottingham.”
Joe’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t know I had any relations in Nottingham. Did…didn’t you want anything?”
“I wasn’t offered anything except for your ashes.”
“Ah.” He winced.
“They arrived by post. ParcelForce to be exact.” Poppy thought that would raise a smile and it did.
“Did you tell the guy what he was delivering?”
“Yes and he dropped you on his toe. Probably broke it.”
Joe laughed. “Was there a good turnout at my funeral?”
“I…I didn’t go.” Poppy waited for Joe to ask why, but although a look of irritated puzzlement crossed his face, he didn’t press the point. Typical Joe. Never pushed on the things that mattered.
“What are you going to do with my ashes?”
“I had one idea but I have a feeling you’d block the loo.”
He grinned and rolled, holding himself over her. “I’d quite like to be blasted into space. You know how I like exploding.”
“Ha ha. So can you fly?” Poppy asked.
“I’m not supposed to be able to, but I’ve managed it a couple of times by accident. It must be my superior physique and natural athletic ability.”
“Or your insane competitive streak.”
“Yeah, there is that. I do like to be first at almost everything.” He ran a hand over her breast and tweaked a nipple. “Desiree said angels have fantastic sex but seekers aren’t able to fuck, not even themselves. You can imagine how that thrilled me. Even if I did sleep through it, six months is the longest I’ve gone without a shag since I lost my virginity aged thirteen behind a dry stone wall on a geography field trip.”
Poppy’s heart shrank in anguish. Was that why he wanted to see her? He just wanted to scratch an itch until he could have all the sex he wanted as an angel? She wriggled out from under him and turned on her side, facing the wall. Joe trailed his fingers down her back and when they stopped on her hip, Poppy knew why and tensed.
“Where did that come from?” He touched the puckered scar. “It looks nasty.”
“Accident. Caught it on something.” Poppy was glad she faced the other way. Joe was good at spotting lies.
“God, you are clumsy, Poppy.”
She was, but not that time.
“How long do you think—” Poppy broke off, unable to complete the question.
“I don’t know.” Joe pulled her onto her back and grinned at her. “But I intend to make the most of you before I get zapped off somewhere.”
He bent to kiss her and Poppy slithered from under him and jumped up. “I need the bathroom.”
Joe’s wings shrank and disappeared as he watched Poppy walk across the room. He might not be the most sensitive guy in the world but he was aware he’d just said or done something to upset her. He’d forgiven her for not doing as he’d told her and for knocking him off the roof. That was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? Saying “I forgive you” hadn’t given him white wings, but he was glad he’d said it. Joe knew Poppy hadn’t meant for it to happen, but if she’d stayed fastened to the pipe, he’d still be alive.
He sucked in his cheeks. The way she’d reacted, as though she was in the right, not him, seemed crazy. And why the fuck hadn’t she gone to his funeral? Joe clenched his jaw in annoyance. He hadn’t wanted to ask her, he’d hoped she’d tell him. Maybe she’d been too upset. Joe rolled onto his back. He wanted her again. His hand slid down his stomach and he eased the foreskin back over the crest of his cock.
Joe hoped Desiree didn’t materialize and tell him he’d committed some unforgivable transgression with Poppy, although in all honesty, he didn’t give a fuck. It had been worth it. Sex with Poppy was the best he’d ever had. There was just something about the pair of them that worked perfectly. The first time Joe had seen her, sitting in his training session, with her flushed cheeks and her bright eyes, her lips moving as she tried to work out a worthwhile question to ask, he’d known she was his and that before the day was out he’d have fucked her.
That was what Joe did—fucked, screwed, shagged, banged. He didn’t make love. He’d never told a woman he loved her because he knew what she’d do with those three words—eat them, breathe them, live them, wrap them around his neck and use them to strangle him. An admission of love changed the relationship into something Joe didn’t want. He cared deeply for Poppy, more deeply than he had for anyone else, but he didn’t love her.
Well, he was pretty sure he didn’t love her, but then Joe wasn’t certain he knew what love was. Mothers were supposed to love their kids but his mother hadn’t loved him. She’d had a cold heart, only concerned with how her son appeared to other people. Joe had to be the smartest, fastest and brightest kid on the block. He didn’t remember being hugged or kissed or even praised, though he worked hard to please her. All he remembered was her telling him off for being untidy or wicked—as she called it. Her standard punishment was to ignore him—sometimes she didn’t speak to him for days. On one occasion she’d walked away in a shopping mall, left a seven-year-old standing alone, because he dared to argue about shoes she wanted and he didn’t. Her psychological torment was worse than his father’s physical one.
Joe’s dad had been a senior police officer who, when he was home and that wasn’t often, ruled the house with a loud voice and a narrow cane he kept on a ledge above his study door. He didn’t use the cane much, the mere threat of it was enough to scare a young Joe into compliance.
By the time Joe reached his teens and his full height, his innate rebellious streak suppressed for so long, overpowered his wish to be loved. He simply didn’t care anymore whether his mother ignored him or his father beat him. Girls liked him and he liked girls. He could lose himself for a while in their bodies and that was all he needed. When he cottoned on to the fact that a couple of dates turned them into limpets, he was more careful. His reputation for shagging anything with a pulse had been unfounded but it was hard to say no when sex was offered.
However, Joe had grown up and grown choosier. The older he got, the more women expected from him and he didn’t like to hurt them. Joe never lied to any woman he took to bed, never let her think she was getting more than a good time for a few hours, days, weeks or however long his lust continued. He was never faithful because he didn’t expect any relationship would last.
Until Poppy.
Ah, his sweet Poppy. Joe looked toward the bathroom door and wondered how long she was going to stay in there. Poppy Field, with her silly name and hot body, his cute and crazy Poppy turned out to be different to every other woman he’d gone out with. She was clumsy and unpredictable, hot and sexy. She drove him mad with lust. She made him laugh and more important, she showed him how to laugh at himself.
Poppy had never pushed him for commitment, never moaned when he had to break a date. He liked talking to her and liked listening to her. Joe couldn’t think of much he enjoyed more than coming back to Poppy’s place, eating whatever weird concoction she’d thrown together before fucking her silly. So why had he rejected an offer to live with her while he sorted himself out? What was he so afraid of? Commitment was no longer an issue. They had no future together. Joe felt
the lump rise into his throat and swell until he found it hard to breathe. Who was he trying to protect here, Poppy or himself?
She came bounding back from the bathroom, her sulk over. That was something else he liked about her. She didn’t stay down for long. Poppy launched into her energetic imitation of a kung-fu warrior that always made him laugh, flinging her arms and legs around, speaking her strange version of Japanese before she leaped on the bed, trying to pin him on his back. She always tried, never gave up and never succeeded. And she never complained.
Joe thought about that as they wrestled, getting tangled in the sheets. His mates had always moaned about girlfriends and wives nagging them about something but Poppy never had. All those times he’d let her down when they’d arranged a date and he had to work, she’d never given him grief about it. Joe had never bought her presents or flowers, not even from a service station, not because he didn’t think of it, but because he didn’t want to be owned by anyone. He chewed his bottom lip. He wished he’d bought her flowers. He could have done that at least. Not saying what time he’d be there, not making too many arrangements in advance was Joe’s modus operandi, but he began to see that maybe he hadn’t been very fair to Poppy.
He stopped pretending to let her win and pinned her by her shoulders. “Can I stay here with you?”
Joe didn’t even get that right. He’d meant to say he’d like to stay with her, but Poppy’s face lit up like a summer flower in sunshine, and Joe kissed her. One quick kiss because he wanted to hear what she’d say. He had to drag his lips away.
“Well?” he asked.
“Only if you promise not to wear my underwear…again.”
He smiled. “You take all the fun out of it.”
“All right, but only the thongs.”
Joe laughed.
“Actually, there’s a set of your clothes here,” she said. “I figured your relative in Nottingham could manage without a few of your things.”
“What do you want with my old clothes?”
Poppy blinked. “They…smell of you.”
The lump in his throat began to grow again and before his face betrayed him, Joe bent his head to her breast and licked around her nipple. It puckered under his tongue and he sucked until she groaned. His cock throbbed in response. Poppy tasted sweet and Joe couldn’t remember whether he’d ever told her how much he liked tasting her, how when he did this, played with her nipple, it sent a shimmering heat rippling though his body to center on his groin.
He thought he could spend hours playing with her breasts. Poppy’s weren’t huge but they were a perfect fit in his hands, a perfect fit around his cock.
“I like your breasts,” Joe said and cursed himself. He had a smoother tongue than that. Why the hell had he blurted out something so banal? It didn’t help that he’d deliberately not used the other L word.
“Do you? I never realized.” Poppy put on her amazed look and Joe growled.
Giving up on words, he showed her how much he liked them, lightly raking her raspberry nipples with his teeth, pulling with his lips, teasing with his tongue, while the dimpled areolas bloomed in his mouth. Poppy squirmed beneath him as he suckled. She pulled his hair, raked his shoulders, alternately pulling him closer and pushing him away. Joe slipped a hand between her legs and pressed his finger inside her damp folds. A single stroke over the nub of her clit and he was rewarded with a gush of cream. He sighed around her breast. She was always wet, always ready. Joe rubbed her clit, felt it pulse and swell, and Poppy whimpered.
Within seconds her quiet moans had turned to loud groans, Joe’s fingers were drenched and his dick was jealous. One finger inside her turned to two. He pressed until his palm was shoved tight against her curls and Poppy lurched beneath him.
“God, Joe. I missed you, I missed this.”
Joe’s cock jerked in response to her words. Her muscles contracted around his fingers and Poppy unraveled in his arms, her breathy gasps hitting his cheeks. Now Joe knew he would lose her, he was frantic to keep her. He’d thought it was just sex and now he thought that it wasn’t. Every moment he spent with Poppy, he hurt her because he couldn’t give her what she wanted, what she deserved. But he couldn’t let her go. He’d never been so torn in his life.
Joe slid down her body, leaving a trail of wet kisses. He reached to tease her nipples with his thumbs while he made her belly dance under his mouth. Joe licked her, nipped her, hummed against her and Poppy writhed beneath him. He wedged her thighs apart with his shoulders, inhaled her musky fragrance and took in the mesmerizing sight of her swollen, glistening lips. Oh Jesus, so pretty. One slurp with his tongue and his head fogged with desire. Joe brought his hands down to join his tongue and he explored her slippery folds, licking around his fingers as he thrust in and out.
Poppy drummed her heels into his back and gasped his name, pleading with him, cursing him. Joe pulsed his tongue and fingers into her with a rhythm another part of his body was eager to match. Her fingers twisted in his hair, her breathing quickened and her muscles began to clench. Joe kept working her with his tongue while he slid his cream-soaked fingers to her ass. He pressed on the puckered hole as he circled and sucked her clit. The room was filled with the sound of her breathy cries and his slurping tongue. Joe loved doing this, loved making her come undone, time after time, hardly letting her recover before he brought her off again.
He wondered if he’d lived, if he’d ever have had enough of her. They’d had a year together, far longer than he’d spent with anyone before. Sex with Poppy was different. It hadn’t trailed off, got boring, become mundane. It had grown more exciting, more mind-shattering. Joe didn’t believe in the one, couldn’t see love at first sight was sensible, but Poppy—
“God, Joe, I love you so much,” Poppy gasped and spiraled away under his mouth, her muscles firing explosive bursts.
This time Joe made sure he didn’t react to her words. He knew Poppy loved him, but she didn’t often say it because she also knew he didn’t want to hear it. What she wanted was for him to say the words to her. Maybe he would have done if he’d lived. Maybe he’d have just blurted them out. Now it was too late. Even if Joe did love her, he couldn’t have her. She was no longer his to love. When he’d gone, she’d be someone else’s. The thought sent him spinning away, off the bed, back up against the wall. He stood panting, his furious purple-headed cock demanding to know what the hell he was playing at. Poppy, her face still flushed from her orgasm, looked up in bewilderment.
Joe opened his mouth. He wanted to tell her how he felt but the words wouldn’t come out. Shit. She’d think he’d reacted to the L word again and it hadn’t been that. Poppy got off the bed. Joe could see her deciding whether she should come to him or not. He didn’t know what he wanted. Fuck, yes he did. He wanted her. All he had to do was reach out and pull her into his arms, but he didn’t. How would that be fair?
“Joe, what’s wrong?”
“This is all I can give you. Sex. Fucking. There’s nothing else,” he whispered. His love was no use to her now. He’d waited too long.
Chapter Six
Poppy fled to the living room. He didn’t want her. Why the fuck had he come back? She’d tried not to tell him that she loved him but it was hard to keep the words in. Now she’d been hurt all over again and this time it was worse. Poppy grabbed her clothes from the floor and her panties from under the couch and pulled them on.
She’d gone mad. She’d flipped over the edge of the Grand Canyon when Joe had fallen only she was still falling. Joe was dead. Joe couldn’t be in her apartment. Joe hadn’t made love to her—no, hadn’t fucked her. She fastened the snap on her pants, got the buttons done up all wrong on her shirt and didn’t care. She had to go out. Not just out. Go away. Run away.
“Poppy.”
“Don’t talk to me. Please.”
She turned and he stood in front of her.
He’s not there. He’s not there. I can walk through him.
Poppy walked straight into hi
m and Joe wrapped his arms around her, crushed his body to hers.
“Why are you dressed?”
Not talking to me. Not here.
Only she could feel his cock, a thick rock-hard presence between them. Poppy sagged and he loosened his hold.
“Come back to bed,” he whispered.
“I don’t know what you want.”
Joe laughed. “Yeah, you do. You want me as much as I want you. We make each other happy. Don’t overanalyze this, Pop.”
Sex. Was that all it was? Maybe that was all it could be. Poppy leaned against him. Joe looked pale and lost. How could she resist him? His lips covered the few inches between them and he kissed her with the lightest touch, a feathery caress across the seam of her mouth, urging her to open to him.
“Kiss me.”
Hands slid under her bottom and pulled her close.
“Kiss me.”
Poppy didn’t want to be easy, didn’t want to just submit but she was helpless in Joe’s embrace. He filled her head, overwhelmed her senses so she could think of nothing but him and what he was doing to her body.
“Kiss me.”
His strong arms held her tight and he pressed harder at her mouth, begging her to let him in. A nip, a lick and his tongue glided through to caress hers. Poppy felt like she’d been out in the snow and come into the warm. This was Joe. He’d keep her safe. So what if she was crazy. Who could see her? Poppy kissed him back, nibbled his bottom lip and pulled it into her mouth with a throaty groan.
Joe scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom. He laid her on the bed and pressed his face into the hollow of her throat.
“Don’t leave me, Poppy. I need you,” he whispered and the vibration and heart in the words cascaded through her body. “I’m not alive without you. You’re my anchor. Please don’t let me go.”
Power of Love Page 6