Page 89 of Sunshine
I sweep my thumb over her skin to collect the falling teardrop, then drag the moisture over her top lip before I kiss away the salt.
Her hand slips up over my arm and her fingers circle my wrist. “Dylan,” she murmurs again. “What are we doing?”
“I—”
“Wow,” Izzy says from the other side of the kitchen and then she starts to clap. “That was better than a movie.”
Poppy’s fingers tighten around my wrist, her eyes light up, and both of us chuckle, but she’s the first to break eye contact as she slips out of my embrace.
“I think it’s time we went to bed, Little Bee,” she announces as she crosses the room and lifts Izzy off her chair. “We have soccer in the morning.”
Izzy hops down and lets Poppy wipe her face with a napkin. “Fine,” she sighs. “But I’m not even tired.”
I watch it all feeling a little dazed: the high of the moment followed by the low of it ending. Poppy’s realization that I crossed another line, and my desperation to tell her I meant to cross it.
“Leave the dishes,” Poppy says. “I’ll clean up in the morning.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I reply. “You girls go up to bed. I won’t be long.”
I watch them leave the room and waste ten minutes standing like an idiot in the middle of the kitchen as I debate my next move. How do I convince Poppy that I’m a safe space? How can I convince her to take a chance on me? How can I prove I’m not like Wade or her father or any of the other assholes she’s trusted in the past? How do I prove I’m worth the risk and convince her to stay?
In the end, I decide to handle one mess at a time, and putting the kitchen back in order helps me put my thoughts into ordertoo. The answer to all my questions, when it comes to me, is as simple as it is complicated.
I have to choose Poppy, and to do that, I have to tell Daisy everything. Easy…and impossible.
It isn’t until I’m switching off the lights and climbing the stairs that I think about Izzy going to bed without me. Poppy didn’t call me to tuck her in. Is Izzy okay? Is she in there alone waiting for her daddy?Shit. How could I let myself get so distracted by what Poppy needs from me that I’d forget what I need to do for my daughter?
I take the steps two at a time, a familiar guilt pinching between my ribs and that old knot pulling at my neck, and rush to Izzy’s bedroom door. It’s slightly ajar, a soft pink light leaking into the hallway, and I push it open.
Izzy is asleep, her bunny under her arm and her chest rising and falling with the easy breaths of rest. Beside her is Poppy, sharing Izzy’s pillow, her eyes closed, her knees curled up, and her hands tucked under her cheek.
My heart swells, climbing into my throat and making it hard to breathe. While I’ve been worrying about how to prove I’m a safe place for Poppy, she’s already made herself a safe place for my daughter.
Right here in this bed is my world. Mywholeworld. My future. My girls.
So I lift Poppy into my arms and carry her to my bed. Where she belongs.
twenty-seven
Poppy
“Stay here, Sunshine. Stayhere with me forever.”
Quiet words whispered in Dylan’s delicious voice float to the surface of my dreams, growing more insistent and more real until they lure me out of sleep. The first hints of morning sunlight dance pink and orange across my eyelids, but the heavy warmth of Dylan’s arms still anchors me to the mattress and his hand still cups one breast like I belong to him. My back is still curled against his chest, his long legs are still tangled up in mine, and his breath still tickles my neck.
I relax into sleep again and inhale the scent of his sheets. Linen and soap and sex. His skin is smooth and hot. His body is hard and constant. His hands grow curious, and his mouth on my shoulder grows bold.
I know this dream.
With a needy moan, I snuggle in harder against him, sliding my hands over his forearms and rolling my hips toward his pelvis. Dylan’s cock jerks against my ass, the vague brush of my skin enough to have him thickening between us, and I tilt myhips so he can drag my underwear down, slip himself between my thighs, and feel how wet he makes me.
His groan feels real. It reverberates down my spine, and when he ghosts his finger down over my hip and then to my clit, I drop my head against his shoulder and rock my hips over his hand, soaking his cock with my arousal.
I love this dream.
Dylan circles my waist with the arm underneath my body, holding me fast against him as he drags his fingers through my folds, then pulls away to fumble with a rubber. I wriggle my hips impatiently, sleepily wondering why dream sex requires a condom, until the tip of his dick nudges at my entrance.
Dylan’s teeth graze the soft muscle between my neck and shoulder as he impales me from behind with a single thrust that makes me cry out in pleasure. In pain. In the most sublime contrast of too much and not enough and go slower and fuck me harder andfuckthis is so good.
