What the lady wants, the lady gets. Years of labor around the yard and regular workouts have earned me some pretty impressive musculature, if I do say so myself. At least, that’s what the ladies claim. I only hope that Poppy concurs. “Well?” I ask, standing in front of her in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. “Do you approve?”
A flush stains her cheeks as she rubs the back of her neck, a smile on her face. “Hell yes, I approve.”
“Isn’t it your turn?” Hey, a guy can dream.
“Nice try, cowboy. Lie down. Let me cure one ailment at a time.”
I chuckle, obliging her request.
“You should do that more,” she murmurs, her fingers sliding along my head.
“What’s that?”
“Laugh. You always had such a great laugh. And smile. And…everything.” She turns away, but I catch the blush crawling up her cheeks.
Looks like I haven’t struck out yet.
“It feels good to laugh. Well, normally. Right now, it hurts like hell.”
“Where does it hurt?”
I point to the side of my head and above my eye.
“You’ll feel a slight prick from the needles.”
“I hate needles, Poppy.”
“Be a big boy, D. I mean, Dylan.”
My hand reaches up, caressing her forearm. “Call me D. It’s our thing.”
Poppy has the greatest smile on the planet. It’s seductive and soft and flirtatious, all wrapped up in the most kissable mouth I’ve ever known.
God, this woman could kiss, and if my mother had been ten seconds later, I would have been able to relive it again. I feel my dick twitch and will my mind to different topics. Safe topics. Hailstorms and blizzards and Mrs. Withers naked. Ugh. Now, I may not sleep for a week.
At least it does the trick.
Poppy switches on some music and dims the lights as she works, and within minutes I’m feeling more relaxed than I have in years. I can’t say if it’s the needles, her hands pressing on my skin or just her energy, but Poppy is a home I wish I’d never left.
Now I just have to work my way back there.
“Stop thinking so much, D. Just relax.” Her voice is soft at my ear, her breath tickling my skin.
The damn woman still knows me, after all these years. Truth is, she’s the only one who knows the side of me that has been locked up for the last decade. She’s the only one I ever felt safe enough to show my true colors. “I haven’t been relaxed in years.”
“We need to work on that, sir.” Her hands wind around my shoulders, and I feel stirrings down below again. Hell, even Mrs. Withers can’t wind down the raging hormones when Poppy touches me. “What do you for fun?”
“I work most of the time. And then I’m with Marissa.”
“You’ve done an amazing job with her. She’s quite the precocious child. I’m never certain what she’s going to say next, but there’s never a dull moment.”
“Spot on description there.”
“It can’t be easy, raising her by yourself. I know it’s not my business, but do you—”
“Date? Not really. I see people.” I wince at the words. It sounds so much worse voicing them.
If my words bother her, she doesn’t let on. She’s too focused on her task. She removes the needles and continues with the massage, working deep into the muscle. I could melt into a puddle under her hands.
“What about you? How is a woman like you not married? I know men line up, just for a chance to be near you.”
Poppy rubs one shoulder, maintaining her gaze downward. “You know my dating history. The entire town does.”
“Two men in ten years?”
“Let’s just say that if someone did a story on my sexual escapades, it would the shortest expose in history. I dated one guy for four years. The other was off and on for about a year. But, I’ve never been turned on by casual sex. It’s all or nothing with me and intimacy. That’s why I have a vibrator.”
I laugh at Poppy’s admission. Leave it to her to state the blatant truth. “They solve everything.”
“That they do,” she giggles, but it quickly falls from her face. “But, it’s a poor substitute for being held.”
Poppy loved being held, and I loved holding her. She fit against me as if she was molded for my body. Of course, a decade ago she was all angles and at least fifteen pounds lighter. Now, her curves are lush—full tits, wide hips and an ass just begging to be bitten. As she leans over me, working out my other arm, I realize there’s one muscle gunning for her attention. And no amount of thinking about naked old people is going to tame it.
Poppy glances down at my package, but doesn’t say a word. I have never in my life wished to be smaller, but there is no hiding him when he wants to come out to play.
“I thought I told you to relax,” she murmurs, her breasts sliding against my chest as she leans over me.
She can claim it’s accidental, but one look at the gleam in her hazel eyes and I know she’s doing it on purpose. She wants to flirt? I can turn on all the charm. “Hard to relax when you keep rubbing your body against me.”
“Oh, like this?” She leans over further, her hands drifting down my sides. “I’m sorry. Does that bother you?”
“What bothers me is the fact that you’re not naked right now.”
And just like that, I’ve laid it out there. Said what I’ve been thinking since she walked through that curtain a week ago.
Her eyes widen as she straightens. At first, I wonder if I should backtrack, apologize for such a forthright—albeit honest—statement. But my dick throbs when her fingers grasp the hem of her shirt, lifting the material over her head.
God in heaven, this woman’s body is a thing of beauty. Her breasts heave, threatening to spill out from her lacy bra, her eyes alight with desire.
“Better?” she questions as I push myself to a sitting position, grabbing that delicious ass and pulling her in between my legs.
“Getting there,” I murmur, my lips nuzzling against hers, feeling that same delicious spark fire between us. Our gazes hold, my hands cupping her face as I claim her mouth, feeling her body quiver against me. Her lips part and I slide my tongue against hers, tasting her sweetness. I’m desperate for this woman, and the kiss reflects the savage intensity I’ve bottled up in our years apart.
“Hey, Poppy, you around?” Troy’s voice sounds from the other room, as Poppy projectiles herself away from me.
“Just a second, Troy.” She grabs her shirt, shoving it over her head. “I’m sorry.”
I wrap my fingers around Poppy’s wrist, holding her fast. “For which part?”
“I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t professional.”
“One would hope you don’t do that with all your clients.”
“Never, with the exception of you.”
“Then why did you jump away from me? Why do you care what Troy thinks?” My blood heats up as the situation becomes clear, and I shake my head, my jaw tense. “I should have known.”
“You should have known what?” Poppy inquires, her hands resting on her hips. Hips I want to grab as I bury my cock inside her. “What are you implying?”