Page 44 of Smooth Talk

Chapter 18

Grayson

I’ve been knocking for two minutes. I’m about to use her spare key. I’m pretty sure it’s in that little fake rock in the planter. She needs a better hiding place for that. Willow Creek’s crime rate is low, but bad things can happen anywhere. Maybe she changed her mind?

When I’d texted Poppy earlier, I thoroughly expected her to turn me down. She’s done it before, no doubt, she’ll do it again. I’m sure she’s exhausted. I’ve never thrown a kid’s birthday party before, let alone attended one. But as soon as I realized I had the chance to Netflix and chill with her, I was out the door, especially after learning she was child-free tonight. I really hope she hasn’t fallen asleep.

I want to take her out properly, but the opportunity to snuggle on the couch, her soft body pressing into mine, is too good to miss. I need some damn alone time with this woman, and I’ll take what I can get. She spends so much time with Harper (you know, cause she’s a good mom), it’s hard to get her one on one. So, as much as I want to do this right, my gut says it’s an opportunity I shouldn’t miss. And I’m listening to my gut. At least I brought dinner.

There was no reason to change into something decent to just lounge around her house, and thankfully, it hadn’t taken long to pick up my order at Wok of Life; their drive thru’s a godsend. I couldn’t very well run in looking like I do. With my luck, I’d run into a chatty constituent while wearing my old threadbare Harvard tee and light grey sweats without underwear. I was in a hurry. Don’t judge.

The door swings open and my eyes go straight to her long legs, partially covered in a thin black material that acts like a second skin. Damn. I let my gaze trail up her body. “Hey gorg… Holy shit Poppy! I thought you were joking. How wild did that party get?” I push through the door and set everything down on the entry table. Grasping her face with both hands, I tilt it up to mine for a closer inspection. Her skin is so soft. When I run my thumb lightly over the bump, she winces. “We need to get some ice on that,” I whisper. Her face is inches from mine. Her eyes closed. If she weren’t in pain, it would be the perfect moment to brush my lips against hers. I can’t be the selfish bastard I want to be, so I drop her face, before my resolve gives out, and walk toward her kitchen.

“Make yourself at home,” she grumbles behind me.

I ignore her and rummage through her freezer until I find an ice pack. Returning to the living room, I grab her hand, lead her to the couch and gently place the pack on her lump; she winces again. I pull her hand up on the pack so she can keep it in place and proceed to unpack all the food on the coffee table. After setting out utensils and napkins, I take the seat next to her on the couch and ask, “How’s the patient?”

“Hungry. I haven’t eaten a lot today. Thank you for bringing me dinner, Gray.” Hmm, that’s new. We’ve talked several times, but this is the first time she’s used a nick-name. My friends and family call me G; I like that she doesn’t. It’s special. Like her. She points at the papers I brought and asks what they are.

“It’s the horse camp paperwork for Harp. I filled out what I could, but I don’t have her medical information. She’ll need to bring these with her when she starts. Now tell me, how did you get that shiner? Little Polly get aggressive with the bat and miss the pinata or did the unicorn kick you?”

She laughs. It’s beautiful and melodic, and I want more of it. “Neither. I’m a bit of a clutz, which you’ll find out for yourself if you hang around long enough.” Oh, I plan to. “I bumped my head on the bathroom sink just before you got here.” How in the world she managed that; I don’t know, and I don’t ask since she’s wincing again. It looks like it hurts pretty bad.

“You think you have a concussion?” I’m concerned, but she seems fine. More embarrassed than anything.

“I don’t think so, I felt a little woozy earlier when I got up, but I think it was from standing too quickly, or the two glasses of wine I drank before you got here.” That last part comes out as a mumble and she gives me a sheepish look that’s nothing short of adorable. She’s not drunk per se, but she’s also not sober. “Do you want anything to drink? I have wine, beer, sweet tea or water.” She offers getting up from the couch. I’m sober as a judge, but I wouldn’t mind a cold beer to wash down dinner. I’ll just have the one, so I’ll be fine to drive later. I’d hate to be presumptuous. Poppy’s not the type to invite a man to spend the night the first time they chill together. And besides, we’ve only technically had two dates. Tonight, doesn’t count as a third.

“I’ll take a beer if you don’t mind.” She brings back a Modelo and a glass of ice water, then turns on the show.

We eat and watch, comfortable with each other’s silence. It’s the episode where Sookie gets married and Jess and Rory momentarily pull their heads out of their asses and kiss. It’s one of my favorites, but their moment of clarity is short lived; they both have epiphanies halfway through season three. It takes much, much longer for Lorelai and Luke to get their shit together. And don’t get me started on Christopher and Logan. What in the actual fuck? Don’t look at me like that. My sisters made me watch this show all the time. Lil had all the seasons on DVD and played them on a loop. Now there’s Netflix for that. I don’t think the obsession has really ever gone away.

“Mmm, Hunan beef is my favorite. How did you know?” Poppy has destroyed almost the entire container of it and a couple of eggrolls.

“You mentioned it when we were talking last week, when you had dinner delivered.” She tilts her head and looks at me like I just said something remarkable.

“So, you just remember everything I say in passing conversations?”

“You’re important; I remember most of what you say.” I smile at her. As if my gift to Harp earlier today hadn’t been proof enough. She sets her container on the table and turns to me.

“Thank you, Gray.” She puts her hands on my face and brushes her lips across mine. The contact is short and light, but I feel it deeply. I want to grab her hips, set her on my lap, and kiss her properly, but she’s already picked the container back up and is shoveling food into her mouth again. I guess she really was hungry.

The only hint I get that the kiss affected her too is the slight blush creeping up her neck toward her cheeks. Poppy Monroe likes me. I want to carve our initials in a tree or some other juvenile shit. I can’t explain it, but I have a really good feeling about us.

We finish our food and the episode. “Another?” She asks and I nod. We both lean back into the couch. She tucks her feet under her and awkwardly gets herself situated away from me. That just won’t do. I put my arm around her shoulders, pull her into my side and she snuggles into me. Her body melting into mine, her sweet smell engulfing my senses. We stay like that until I hear soft snores coming from her direction. That must’ve been some party. I slip off the couch, cradling her face in my arm, guiding her so she’s lying down instead of slumped over and quietly box up the leftovers, carry them to the fridge and throw away the rest. I had a vastly different vision in mind of how tonight would end. Now I need to decide whether to leave her on the couch or carry her to her room. I glance up the stairs; I’m not sure which is hers, and she looks so peaceful; I grab the blanket from the back of the couch and drape it over her.

She snuggles down into the couch and grabs my hand. “Mmm, don’t leave. I’ll wake up.” Her eyes remain shut. We both know she doesn’t mean it, but I can’t help wanting to stay. She pulls my arm and it throws me off balance in my crouching position. I catch myself with my other hand on the back of the couch before my body crashes into hers. I think she’s still half-asleep. Her eyes blink open. “Did I just assault you?”

I chuckle, “Just pulled me off balance a bit. You seem to be doing that a lot lately.” As lines go, it could’ve been worse. She smiles at me, her face close enough for me to see the freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. I brush my finger down, tracing them, bending down to kiss the line I just drew, then brush our noses together. Tilting her head up at me, she breathes my name. It’s never sounded sexier.

“Uh huh,” I find myself incapable of verbosity when she’s this close. Verbosity’s a word, right? Verboseness?

“Kiss me,” she closes her eyes in anticipation. I don’t make her wait long. I slide my lips over hers lightly twice before applying more pressure. I nibble on her lush bottom lip and suck it into my mouth. She gasps and opens up to me. That’s all the invitation I need. My tongue glides into her mouth, making us both moan. Although, to be honest, mine sounds more like a growl. Her tongue tangles with mine; she tastes sweet and spicy. I can’t get enough. I move over top of her to get better leverage, and she pushes the blanket aside. My hand moves from her jaw to the back of her head; grabbing a handful of her soft, silky locks, I pull. She’s moaning into my mouth harder now and her body is moving against mine. It feels so fucking good; I’m losing my mind.

We’re grinding on each other like a couple of teenagers and I don’t want it to stop. No one in the history of ever has felt this good. My other hand slowly traces down the side of her body, her rib cage, stomach, hip and around bringing her thigh up to rest on my hip. She wedges her heel into the center of my back, right where it meets my ass, and presses herself against me. So fucking hot. My hand keeps going (it has a mind of its own) and squeezes a handful of her amazing ass. She bites my lip and presses her heat directly onto my rock-hard cock. Yeah, she liked that. Fuck, I’m really far gone. Too far gone. She’s rubbing her pussy against me, if she keeps going, I’m going to come in my pants, and I have a feeling it’ll be ten times more embarrassing now than the first time it happened. I was thirteen and it was the first action I’d gotten from a girl ever, and by action, I mean, she let me get to second base. Right now, her name escapes me. I can’t think of anyone but Poppy while she’s grinding on my dick.

I refuse to come first. I regrettably pull my hips back and move my mouth down her jaw, her earlobe, neck and collarbone. Nibbling and sucking along the way. She reaches for the hem of her shirt and whips it over her head. I take that as permission to proceed. I suck a hardened nipple through her bra. Her back is arching so far off the couch, she’s practically suffocating me with her tits. At least I’ll die happy. But it’s not enough. Her hands are wandering almost as much as mine. She’s grabbing my ass, trying to pull me back onto her, but I’ve got other plans for that sweet pussy.

I sit back on my heels to peel the leggings down her thighs. I grab the waistband and ask, “is this okay?”

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