Page 130 of Catching Sparks

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“Not a very good one if you have to ask,” she breathes, a soft laugh trickling behind the words.

I curve my arm around her back and tug, sending her careening into my chest. Bumping her nose with mine, I say, “Let’s get you unpacked first. If I get my hands on you now, we won’t be touching your things until tomorrow.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Goosebumps explode all over my skin as the hand on my chest starts to dip lower, down to the waist of my jeans and lower still. Her palm is hot against my cock as she palms it firmly.

“Better get a move on then, honey.”

Once the taunt escapes her lips, she’s out of reach, the wheels of her suitcase rolling through the house as she pulls it behind her. It takes me a moment to collect myself before I’m trailing after her, chuckling in disbelief.

It may have been a good thing I hadn’t wasted my time asking anyone for advice on how to live with a woman. Because Poppy is no ordinary woman, and I think I’ll do just fine figuring it out as I go.

45

POPPY

The bright red sign hung above the door of Peakside reflects in Garrison’s eyes as we stall a few steps away, my pink lipstick smeared across his mouth and foundation on his nose. His pupil-blown stare is enough of a confidence boost that I doubt I’ll need to hear another compliment for the rest of my life.

I ache between my legs, the orgasm I had in the car on the way here not enough to soothe me completely. I’ve never considered myself a buckle bunny despite my love of a man in boots and a cowboy hat, but for Garrison, I’d tattoo the name on my forehead and wear it with pride.

It took one look at him in his full cowboy attire to have me begging to be bent over the bed before we left home, but he was adamant about not being late. Luckily for me, he was generous enough to slide his hand down my pants on the ride over, but as I clench around nothing standing outside the bar, I think that may have actually made my arousal worse.

“I’m not going to take you in the alley again, Poppy. Stop looking at me like that,” he groans, shutting his eyes as his forehead rolls across mine.

“You didn’t say please.”

I dab my thumb over the lipstick on his mouth and feel the small section of swollen skin from my sharp nip earlier. Maybe I shouldn’t have all but mauled him outside of the bar the moment we stepped out of the car, but I couldn’t help it. From the desperate exploration of his hands over my ass as I did so, it seemed like he was enjoying himself just as much as I was.

Good. I hope he’s hard enough for his cock to crack stone while we’re inside. Then we’ll be even.

“Please,” he whispers.

“No.”

His eyes shoot open, somehow darker now than they were a second ago. “Fine.”

The roughness of his voice sends shivers down my spine. I take a step back and grab his hand before flashing a wink and pulling the door open.

For once, I’m not the last one to arrive at a Friday night get-together. Bryce is already at our table, sitting across from Brody, Anna, and a blonde woman who has to be Aurora, the new girl in town. My brother and Johnny are nowhere in sight.

“Hi, guys,” I say, tightening my hold on Garrison’s hand as we head to the table.

I can tell he’s a bit uncomfortable right now, but the fact he’s here and didn’t try to put up a sliver of a fight when I asked him to come means everything to me. This group can be scary as hell, and while he may have joined us out a couple of times prior to our getting together, tonight is completely different.

He’s here with me tonight. As my boyfriend. Not just a Steele Ranch employee or Johnny’s friend.

Everyone at the table fits their eyes on us, and I lead Garrison to Bryce’s side of the booth. We slide in beside her, and I squish right up against Bryce, the booth far too narrow for all three of us to be comfortable. Nobody moves, though, as if that doesn’t matter.

Everyone says their hellos as I rest my hand on Garrison’s thigh. He flips it over before linking our fingers again. His thumb traces the knuckles, and I go lax at the caring touch.

“You’re on time tonight,” Bryce tells me.

She looks much more like herself tonight as to opposed to the other day in the studio. Gone is the ugly skirt and tight blouse. The cropped tee and high-waisted distressed denim skirt she changed into tonight is her style. With her tattoos exposed and thick black hair down over her shoulders instead of tied back, she’s a total knockout.

“You can all thank Garrison for that,” I reply.

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