Page 87 of Home Field Advantage
“It’s fine, Dallas.”
And then it hits me. I think back to everything she’s admitted to me. I know very little about how her brain works,and when she told me all there was to know about herself, it didn’t scare me or make me want to run. I remember a few friends from college who also struggled with the same thing she does. One of them was particular about needing stuff in a specific order, and another always feared that we judged them for their quirks.
It doesn’t scare me.
Poppy doesn’t scare me.
Reaching up, I rake my fingers through her long hair because I can’t help but touch her in some way whenever she’s around. “It’s not fine. The last thing I ever want you to think is that I said those things because of some whiskey in my system.”
“But—”
I cut her off with a finger to her lips, soft under my touch. The same ones I want my mouth on. “I didn’t drink tonight, Poppy. I was already drunk on being in the same room as you, watching you dance, and laughing with your friends. I’m inebriated in the best way possible, without a sip of alcohol.”
Bringing my other hand up, I cup her face with both hands and tilt her head just right so she stays focused on me. Her skin feels soft under my touch, but it burns every part of my body. Our heart rates are pounding erratically but in sync. I can tell from how it feels under my hand.
“Is your brain in overdrive right now?” I breathe out, dangerously close to her lips.
She nods her head in my hold.
“Talk to me.”
“I…uh. This. Right here. You did this before.”
“Holding you?”
“Yes.”
“And what about it?”
“I thought”—she closes her eyes—“I keep thinking you’re going to kiss me when you do this.”
I bring my face closer to hers, letting my lips graze just barely above hers. Fuck, I already know she’s going to taste so sweet.This is dangerous. I’m playing with fire. I’m going to get fucking burned.
I also no longer give a shit.
Because if Poppy wants this, then I’ll give her everything.
“Is that what you want me to do, Poppy?”
With her eyes still closed, refusing to look at me, she practically moans. Shemoansat the tone of my voice. And it goes straight to my cock, with nothing but a pair of sweatpants to keep it down.
She doesn’t move an inch from the hold I have on her face, so I let my thumb caress the apple of her cheek. She finally looks at me. Emerald green eyes bore into mine and filled with so much fire.
“I didn’t think I did. I tried hard not to want it. This isn’t who I am, but to answer your question…yes. I do, but also understand if you don’t want this.”
I’ve pictured this moment since I first laid eyes on her at the coffee shop. I’ve played this moment in my head many nights when my head lay on the pillow and I couldn’t fall asleep.
Every glance, every touch, every breath held was mutual. Just two people circling the same gravitational pull, waiting for their orbits to align.
She doesn’t move. She doesn’t pull away.
My heart is beating so loudly that I swear she can hear it.
She stares at me, waiting on bated breath for my next move, and looking at me like she wants to be undone by me.
God help me. I’m so gone for her.
“Fuck it.”
