Page 135 of Catching Sparks

He tastes like salt. We both do.

Our mouths are frantic, desperate to fill the holes in our chests with a distraction. A connection that we don’t need tears and words to explain.

I reach between our bodies and undo his pants while clicking the part of my brain off that tells me this won’t take the pain away. Nothing can take the pain away. But this . . . this can help disguise it as pleasure.

Once he’s tugged his jeans to his knees, I straddle his lap and plant my hands on his shoulders for leverage. I pull my panties to the side with one hand and use the other to grip his cock, finding it hard already. Staring down between us, I guide his tip through my lips, getting it wet before notching it at my entrance and darting my eyes up to meet his.

His nod is jerky, expression pinched as he stays still, allowing me to control this moment. I whimper at the first breach of him inside of me and then moan once I take the full length, my ass touching his thighs.

“Garrison,” I breathe out, grinding forward.

He tips his head back, the strong lines of his throat straining as he breathes. I bring my hands from his shoulders up to his jaw, needing to touch skin.

Riding him with long, languid shifts of my hips, I feel my climax building quicker than I thought it would. An influx of feelings pushes into me all at once, and I simply surrender to them, letting everything go.

“In or out?” he asks, strained.

I don’t need clarification. “In.”

We move in fast forward, without a thought to the world around us. Anyone could come by and catch us. Maybe that spurs us on.

“Fuck, Poppy. Love you with everything I am,” he says, staring straight at me as we both go still, rigid.

I jerk over him, my orgasm ripping through me as I find the strength to smile and kiss his swollen lips.

“Love you with everything I’ve ever been.”

But still, it isn’t enough.

47

GARRISON

I ride with my father to work for the first time three days after returning to Toronto.

I’ve been staying with my parents since I got back because the thought of walking into my empty penthouse after being gone for two months makes my skin crawl. It was empty long before I met Poppy, and while she never stepped foot inside of it, I already know it will feel far hollower this time.

Just the mention of the woman I left behind in Cherry Peak is enough to make me consider telling my father to pull the car over so I can retch on the busy downtown sidewalk. Kip, Poppy, even Wade and Eliza. My goodbye with Kip was too short, spent with my face pressed to his side and every instinct inside of me telling me not to leave.

The nausea I’ve been suffering with since coming back home hits me full throttle. Only when I’m sleeping does it give me any reprieve. If I even manage to sleep for more than a handful of hours a night.

“You skipped breakfast,” Dad says when we stop at a red light.

“Wasn’t hungry.”

“What about now? We can stop and grab a coffee and a bagel before heading in? Or I can have something brought up to the office,” he offers.

“No, thank you.”

With my elbow propped on the door, I cup my jaw and close my eyes, knowing that if I stare out the window as we drive, all this mention of food will tip me over the edge.

The radio is on, but I don’t recognize the song playing. Usually, that would have interested me. I’d want to figure out who it was and if I liked them enough to entertain the idea of poaching them from their current label. Now, the idea of doing that is boring. Unfulfilling.

“Are you sure? There might already be a spread waiting for you due to your arrival. A bit of a welcome-back party that the staff set up. I know they wouldn’t mind adding something with some more sustenance.”

“I’m not hungry. And the staff hates me. I’m sure they threw a party the day I was sent away. A welcome-back party doesn’t interest me,” I grind out.

I’m on edge. Snappy and rude. Everything I know I shouldn’t be.

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