Page 29 of Catching Sparks

“I doubt that.” She isn’t near breathless enough.

With my eyes flicking through the people at the table, I zone out of their next conversation topic and lay my hand over Poppy’s thigh, the tight denim wrapped around it scraping at my sore hand. Fuck, she’s warm, even through the jeans. Warm and soft, yet as I dig my fingers harder into her flesh, I’m met with hard, thick muscle.

It’s impossible to keep my mouth in its typical tight line when she snaps her legs closed, sandwiching my hand between them. I give in to the impulse and squeeze her harder as the corner of my mouth tips upward.

“Usually, when a man has his hands between my legs, I’m having a lot more fun,” she whispers.

“Is that what you want, Poppy? Fun?”

Here it comes. Verbal confirmation or denial. No heated looks, reckless flirting, and tips of our chins this time. It’s a yes or no. We do this, or we don’t.

I can’t believe I’m contemplating this.

“Yes. So much fun. All night long.”

My nostrils flare. “Do you live close?”

“Five-minute walk.”

“Tell them you’re ready to go. I’ll offer to walk you home.”

“You’re demanding.”

I bite back a laugh. “I am. With everything I do.”

“Is that a warning?” she asks, that confident voice finally growing weak.

Anna giggles again, so loud it makes me jolt. Poppy attempts to join in the conversation with a short answer but then grows quiet again, waiting for me to answer.

“A warning or a promise. Which would you prefer?”

Her hand drifts from my knee to my thigh. But it doesn’t stop. It keeps going. And going. And fucking going. I curse beneath my breath when that firm hold pauses a finger’s width from where my briefs end, the tip of my cock not much further up.

“Definitely a promise, City Boy,” she murmurs, and then her hand is gone, resting on the table as if it had been there the entire time. Her tone is innocent when she addresses the table. “I’m going to head home. I pushed too hard at the studio today.”

“Okay, P. Do I have time to finish my drink before we leave?” Bryce asks, lifting her half-empty cup.

“Stay, Ice. Garrison actually offered to walk me home, so you stay. I’ll see you tomorrow, right? Anna?”

The expressions around me would have offended me had I cared what they thought. Curiosity, disbelief, all the usual suspects for a man like me and a woman like Poppy. These people care about her, and I’m more or less a stranger they’re trusting to look after her.

“Are you sure, Pops?” Anna asks, chewing on her lip.

Her boyfriend narrows his eyes on me. “He knows better than to let anything happen to her, sweetheart. Right, Garry?”

“She’s safe with me, Annalise.”

I make the promise easily, and despite being drunk, she seems to recognize the honesty in the words. Her shoulders relax as she offers me a slight smile.

“Alright.” Focusing on Poppy, she adds, “Text me when you get home.”

“Me too,” Bryce says.

Poppy blows them both a kiss, and I slide out of the booth. An awkward silence lingers as I wait for her to follow.

“Wait—how are you getting back?” Johnny asks me, his lids drooping from either alcohol or exhaustion.

“Back where?”

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