“Funny thing is, so am I.” A heartbeat passed. “What are we going to do about it?”
Chapter Eight
Boone watched Poppy closely. Her eyes were still shut, so he was able to take a look without daggers being shot back at him. The pulse at the base of her neck beat rapidly, and her cheeks were flushed a soft pink. Her long hair was a wild mess of waves that fell around her shoulders and back, and the bikini she wore didn’t do much to clamp down his overactive libido. He hadn’t been this worked up over a woman in a long, long time, and if his Spidey sense was accurate, she wanted him too. It seemed the fire they started all those years ago still burned for both of them. And while he was used to getting what he wanted, he knew Poppy was going to make him work for it.
He’d hurt her. He got it. But he badly wanted to make things right.
“Poppy?” he asked hesitantly.
“Give me a minute.” Her voice was sharp. He leaned back, giving her the space and time she wanted. He looked out over the lake because he needed to focus on something other than the woman beside him. He’d always had a way with the opposite sex. A born charmer, his mother had said. But with Poppy, it felt like one false move would send her running for the hills faster than Usain Bolt, and he sure as hell didn’t want that.
“Why now?” she asked slowly. He turned and found her gaze on him, and damned if his blood didn’t boil over. “What do you want?”
He could think of a lot of things he wanted. Poppy naked and out of that bikini being one of them.
“To make things right,” he admitted, realizing it was, first and foremost, the one thing he needed to do.
Her eyes slid from his, and she took a long pull from the beer he’d given her. “That was a long time ago,” she replied and shrugged. “I’ll admit I was a little thrown when you came back to town, and I might have been a bit dramatic about things, but I’m over it.” She glanced his way. “I’ve been over you for years, Boone.”
“I don’t believe you.”
The surprise on her face made him grin, and his grin obviously infuriated her, because she shoved him, and he damn near ended up in the lake.
“You’re just as arrogant as ever.”
“Not arrogant, Pops. Just calling it as I see it.”
“Don’t call me that,” she practically spat at him.
“Why are you so angry?”
“Am I not allowed to be angry?” Chest heaving, she glared at him.
“You can be whatever you want, darlin’. I’m just wondering why you’re so angry if you’re over the past.” He waited a beat. “If you’re over me.”
She made a noise that sounded distinctly like disgust, and Boone realized he was fucking this up royally. “Look, Poppy—”
She actually gave him the hand. “Don’t ‘Poppy’ me, and don’t talk. I’ve got the floor now.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but she held her hand higher.
“I’m angry because you…you’re just…” She finished the can and shook her head. “You’re just so…” She narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on with you and Emily Davenport?”
Okay, she was switching gears faster than a NASCAR driver, and because the dip in her bathing suit top lowered when she leaned toward him, he was finding it hard to keep up. He tore his gaze from her chest and looked up.
He frowned. “What’s Emily got to do with things?”
“She’s vulnerable right now, Boone.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“That’s up for debate.”
He was quiet for a few seconds. She really wasn’t making this easy, and it burned to realize she thought so little of him. “I know Emily’s had a shit deal, but we’re just friends. Nothing more.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
He kept his annoyance to himself and concentrated on the fact that her eyes had darkened, that her voice was smoke over glass, and he was pretty sure her nipples were saluting him, but didn’t want to chance another look in case she used her right hook.
“You spent the night at her place. So I guess you’re friends with benefits?”
What? “I didn’t spend the night at Emily’s.” Confused, he fell silent.
She swore and said a bunch of things that would make a sailor proud. “I saw you, Boone. I saw you at her place this morning, cutting her grass and being all domestic. It’s a crap move to do that with someone like Emily. Someone whose heart is broken, though we both know that’s something you’re an expert at.”
His annoyance vanished and morphed into something darker. “I don’t like where you’re going with this.”
“And you think I do?” She leaned forward. “I’m just looking out for Emily is all.”
Slowly, he shook his head. “You’re headed down the wrong road. Maybe you should try being honest. This isn’t about Emily, and it sure as hell isn’t about me being a good friend and helping her out with some landscaping, which, if you’d bothered to ask, she’d confirm.”
Poppy didn’t respond, and he kinda forgot where he was going with things, because all of a sudden, the need to kiss her was a powerful thing. Especially when she ran her tongue over her lips.
“What is it about, then?” she challenged, jumping to her feet in a surprise move. Poppy took exactly one step before she stubbed her toe on an uneven deck board, which made her hop on one leg as she continued her impressive sailor rant. Standing precariously close to the edge of the dock, she hopped once more, then toppled sideways. Boone reached for her, but Poppy shoved at him because God forbid someone actually help the woman, and then she teetered on that one foot for exactly two seconds before she went over, taking Boone with her.
The shock of cold water did nothing to cool him down. When his head broke the surface, he was so close to her, he felt the heat from her skin. She was treading water, but Boone had no problem standing and keeping his head above the surface.
Quick bursts of air fell from between her lips as she floated a few feet from him. But Boone wasn’t letting her get away that easily. He moved forward and didn’t stop until the smooth, slick feel of her was between his legs.
“What are you doing?” she sputtered, though the indignant look she’d sported earlier had been replaced with something darker, something hotter, and she made no move to get away.
“I’m looking at you.” Her lips parted, and all that dark-red auburn hair floated on the water around her. She looked like a fucking hot mermaid. Boone’s abs tightened. Hell, his entire body was on fire with a need so strong, he couldn’t help himself. “I’m going to kiss you,” he murmured, arms sliding around her waist to hold her secure.
“You can’t,” she shot back at him.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want you to.”
“Liar,” he all but growled like an animal.
Every inch of her softness was pressed against him, and when her tongue darted out to swipe across her lower lip, he groaned and lowered his head.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said roughly.