Page 10 of Bloody Seven

I pull my lips back, my gaze full of nothing but pure lust as I say, "Take me home."

"I can't guarantee I’ll be respectful if I do that, Poppy."

"I didn’t ask you to be respectful," I admit as his eyes darken. "I asked you to take me home."

Nothing else needs to be said. He grabs my hand to lead us out of the bar and hails a cab. Within minutes, we’re on our way to his place. This is so fucking irresponsible. I don't even know where he lives, and he could end up being some kind of crazed killer.

I let out a choked laugh, making him glance at me with concern.

"You okay?"

"Could be better," I tease as his hand rests on my thigh.

"How is that?" he asks like he doesn't already know.

"I think you know."

"I aim to please, cupid, but you’ll have to use your words."

"Yeah? If you need me to give instructions, I think you'll find I have no issue with that."

"What do you want me to do, Poppy?"

"Kiss me, bagel boy," I breathe out, unsure why, but I want his lips on mine more than anything.

"Yes, ma'am," he replies as he leans forward to press his soft lips against mine.

I'm filled with the familiar feeling of lust as I part my lips and allow him to deepen the kiss. Electricity rushes through my body, igniting my limbs and taking my breath away. When he pulls back, I’m disappointed as I stare at him with wonder.

"We're almost there. Just a few minutes," he reassures me with a gentle squeeze on my thigh.

We spend the next few minutes in silence while the sounds from my thumping heart drown out the racing thoughts in my mind. What the fuck am I doing? Am I really going to sleep with him? The fact that I want to this badly makes me consider calling the whole thing off.

The cab finally stops, and Corbin opens the door. I waste no time placing my hand in his as he leads us up the stoop and buzzes us into his apartment building.

My usual self would be cataloging everything I see to make sure I have as much information as possible, but I'm blinded by whatever tension has built between us. I don't look around or care to see what number he presses on the elevator. When the elevator door closes, he's on me. His hands land on my hips, andhe pushes me against the wall as his mouth lands on mine. I throw my arms over his shoulders, pulling him in before sliding my fingers through his brown hair. It’s the perfect length to tug on.

He groans in my mouth, and it's enough for me to leave all of my previous doubts behind. That one sound shoots straight to my core, and I want to force him to make it again.

The elevator dings and we briefly separate as he leads me to his apartment. It's a short walk to the corner apartment, which makes me thankful. Maybe whoever lives next door won't hear us.

We step inside, and I expect to see the typical bachelor pad, but this place is the exact opposite. It's warm, inviting, and much bigger than I expected for a single man living in the city.

Directly in the entryway, there’s a door to the right and a door to the left. As I kick my boots off to place them on a small shelf, he explains one is a closet, and the other is a bathroom. We step forward, and to our right is the kitchen with the main space directly in front of us. Between the kitchen and living room, there’s a small hallway, which I would assume leads to a bedroom.

"Let me make you a drink. Gin and tonic, right?" he asks.

"Sure, but only if you have decent liquor," I tease.

I take it upon myself to walk around. There’s a barn door on the opposite side of the living room. I slide it open, shocked to find it’s a decent-sized bedroom. The deep brown color of the sheets matches the comforter and the decor on the walls. Inside is another door propped open, revealing the tiled floor of a second bathroom.

A two-bedroom apartment in New York City. This is the nail in the coffin I've been looking for, so I make my way out of the bedroom. There’s no way a single man would have a home like this. There are even real plants in the corner of the living roomby a small loveseat. Yeah, he’s not single. As he walks toward me, I turn to face him and cross my arms over my chest.

"How long have you been married?"

His face contorts. "I'm not married."

"This is not the apartment of a single man who lives in New York City." I narrow my gaze.

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