Chapter Eight #4
For a moment she didn’t even breathe, could’ve sworn her heart quit beating. Even her thoughts went silent, her head filled with static, perfect pink noise roaring in her ears. She shivered under the praise and—that whine came from her throat as she arched, writhing against Rosaline’s hand.
She was so fucking close. If Rosaline just pressed a bit harder, a little more—
The heel of her hand ground against Poppy’s clit, snatching the breath from her lungs and sending her into orbit. Her lids
slammed shut, muscles clenching around Rosaline’s fingers as she shattered.
“That’s it. I’ve got you.” Rosaline worked her fingers harder, faster and—it was too good, pleasure so sharp it almost hurt.
Almost. She jerked, blunt nails digging into the leather covering Rosaline’s knee, a whimper verging on a sob escaping her lips as
she shook so hard her foot almost hit the coffee table. Rosaline shushed her softly. “You’re so fucking pretty when you come,
I—” Rosaline swore under her breath and her teeth dug into Poppy’s neck.
She sounded wrecked, her voice hoarse and hushed. Nearly reverent.
But that could’ve just been her imagining things. A delusion brought on by all the oxytocin racing through her veins, turning
her brain to postorgasmic mush.
After a moment, Rosaline’s fingers slowed before stopping altogether. Still inside Poppy, but not making any moves as if to
prolong the pleasure, just keeping her full in a way that Poppy wasn’t used to after sex but definitely appreciated. Normally
after she hooked up with someone, this wasn’t on the menu. Maybe a few seconds of postcoital cuddling happened while everyone caught their breath, but as soon as
the sweat started to cool? Someone would roll out of bed or pull away, righting their clothes or making a beeline for the
bathroom.
Nine times out of ten, that someone wasn’t Poppy.
Rosaline had lowered her arm, a pleasant weight around Poppy’s waist, her hand practically a brand against Poppy’s sweat-slick
skin. Silence stretched between them, fractured only by the sound of their breathing, but unlike most silences, this one didn’t
make Poppy’s skin crawl with an unbridled itch to fill it.
Time passed, how much she couldn’t be certain, Poppy floating, brain blank. Thoughts pleasantly quiet, her focus zeroed in
on the way Rosaline’s pinky swept a soothing arc just above Poppy’s hip. Almost hypnotic, grounding in a way that she didn’t
entirely understand but wasn’t about to question.
Another minute passed, maybe two or three before Rosaline withdrew her fingers with a sigh Poppy would swear sounded reluctant.
Poppy frowned and pressed her knees together, drawing them a little closer to her chest, empty in a way she really didn’t
like.
Another of those soft whines she didn’t mean to make escaped her lips and—god, she wasn’t normally like this. She needed to get a grip. Pull herself together before Rosaline got the wrong idea and thought
she was a needy mess with a bad habit of taking a mile when someone gave her an inch.
Poppy frowned.
The right idea, maybe.
Rosaline pressed another of those too-sweet-for-what-this-was kisses to the side of Poppy’s jaw and stretched out her arm,
snagging a slice of forgotten pizza from the box on the coffee table. She brought it to Poppy’s mouth. “Eat.”
Poppy let go of the passing thought that Rosaline was holding the slice with the hand that had just been down Poppy’s panties, those same fingers that had been inside her now pinching the crust, and opened her mouth for a bite.
Rosaline held the slice for her until she had made it all the way to the garlic butter–covered crust, which she stole for herself.
Slowly, Poppy came back to planet Earth, blinking back the fog that had wrapped around her mind like her favorite weighted
blanket. She tilted her head, letting it loll against Rosaline’s shoulder. Rosaline was already staring down at her, lids
heavy and pupils eating up all but a thin ring of vibrant green. A smile played at the edges of her lips, very cat that got
the cream. Satisfied, even though Poppy was the one who’d just come so hard her brain had leaked out her ears.
“That was really . . . wow.”
“Wow? Really? That’s what you’re going with?” Rosaline’s pinky continued to sweep against Poppy’s skin, driving her to distraction.
“Not, I don’t know, phenomenal? Spectacular? I mean, Jesus, Poppy, come on. Stroke my ego.”
She bit her lip, trying and failing not to smile. “I could always stroke something else?”
Rosaline’s expression flattened and she gave Poppy the most deadpan of stares. “That was terrible.”
“Sorry.” Poppy shrugged. “Guess my brain’s still coming back online.”
Rosaline grinned. “See? Now, that’s more like what I want to hear.”
The pizza had been great and all, but between all the gasping and panting, Poppy was parched. Her tongue slipped out, wetting
her lips, and Rosaline’s eyes flitted downward, following the move with laser sharp focus.
Poppy’s breath stuttered and stalled and, for a wild second, it seemed like Rosaline was going to kiss her. That she was going to—
Her face was cast in sudden stark relief as too-bright headlights flashed through the gauzy curtains covering the front window. Poppy held her breath, fingers crossed it was just a car turning around in the driveway. The lights blinked out and a car door opened a second later, dashing her hopes.
Rosaline blew out a frustrated breath and scooted backward on the couch, putting a foot of distance between them that felt
chasmal. A similar yawning pit opened inside Poppy’s stomach. “I’m guessing that’s Curran.”
She sounded about as happy with his arrival as Poppy felt.
Poppy frowned. “You didn’t get to—”
“It’s fine,” Rosaline said, shifting until her feet were flat on the floor.
Poppy begged to differ.
Her reluctance must’ve shown on her face because Rosaline said, “Hey. Seriously, it’s fine, Poppy.” She reached out with her
pinky extended and hooked it around Poppy’s. She lifted their joined hands and pressed her lips to her own fist, sealing whatever
promise they were about to make with a kiss. Something inside Poppy’s chest splintered, cracking like a glow stick at just
how silly the gesture was period, but especially coming from Rosaline. “You’ll get me next time.”
She tried to laugh, but it came out as a shaky exhale. “So, there is going to be a next time?”
Rosaline looked at her incredulously. “What about my having a list as long as my arm of things I’d like to do to you was unclear?”
Uncertainty flickered across her face. “Unless you don’t want to—”
“No. I mean, I’m a little skeptical this isn’t all part of some dastardly plan of yours to kill me, but I do. Want to. Again.”
Rosaline chuckled, warm and throaty. “But what a way to go, right?”
The front door swung open, and Cash and Lyric stumbled inside joined at the lips, the way she was blindly working to tug Cash’s belt through the buckle suggesting they were about three minutes from being joined at the hips too.
He pulled away from Lyric with a gasping laugh and stared down at her borrowed jersey with uncensored awe splashed across
his face. More of Lyric’s lipstick was smeared on his chin and the tip of his nose than left on her mouth. “Goddamn, girl.” He whistled. “Did I tell you how good you look wearing my last name?”
“Lyric!” Rosaline barked.
“Holy shit.” She pressed her palm to her chest. “What the fuck, Roz? What are you doing here?”
Rosaline stood and set her hands on her hips. “Where are Ravi and Elliott?”
“I told them to go back to the hotel.”
Rosaline made a strangled noise like she’d swallowed her tongue. “Excuse me? I must’ve misheard you because it sounded like
you just said you sent your security detail back to the hotel.”
“What? It seemed like overkill.” Lyric shrugged. “What was I going to do? Ask them to spend the night on Cash’s couch? That
would’ve been so weird.”
“I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.” Cash wrapped his arms around Lyric’s waist and hooked his chin over her head. “I’ve
got a kick-ass security system.”
Rosaline shot him a murderous glare. “Does your ‘kick-ass security system,’” she said, making sure to put that in quotes, “come with a Glock 22, QuikClot Combat Gauze, and military training?”
Cash had the decency to look abashed, regretful even. “Uh—”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Rosaline said, voice clipped.
“Back off, Rosaline,” Lyric snapped. “It was my decision, not Cash’s. And Ravi and Elliott followed us here. Hell, they’re probably still outside idling by the curb because they’re more terrified of you than they care about listening to me. You’re overreacting.”
Rosaline pinched the bridge of her nose. “I swear to God, if I go gray before I’m forty, it’s going to be your fault.”
Lyric looked at Poppy imploringly. “You seem like a logical person. Tell her she’s overreacting, please.”
All eyes turned to Poppy, putting her on the spot.
“Um, honestly?” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t think she is.”
Rosaline’s eyes widened. Cash just smirked at her from across the room.
Poppy shrugged. “Rosaline made a really good point earlier. Cash, your address is in the county public records. Anyone could
look it up. Your security system’s nice, sure, but I think we need to see about upgrading it.” Especially now. “Get a gate,
at least. Maybe get you a security detail.”
Or consider moving.
Cash frowned down at Lyric. “The security detail might be a bit much for me, but those are good points, babe.”
Lyric deflated, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’ll call Ravi and Elliott and tell them to turn around. If they even left.”
“You’re going to hate me, but it’s been a long day and it’s late,” Rosaline said. “I think it would be for the best if you
and I headed back to the hotel.”
Lyric pouted. “But we’re flying back to LA tomorrow morning.”
Rosaline had already pulled her phone from her pocket, her fingers tapping away at the screen. “And you’ll see Curran in two
weeks at the World Music Awards.”
Record scratch.
“Did you just say the World Music Awards?” She glared at Cash. “Why am I always the last one learning about these things?”
He opened his mouth, but Lyric set a hand on his arm. “I wasn’t sure if I was going,” she said. “They asked me to perform,
and I wasn’t sure if I was up for it, but—” she said, craning her neck and smiling up at Cash, “I’m proud of this album and
I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time, so I decided I wanted to go. I only asked Cash today if he’d be my date. And he
said yes.”
Of course he said yes.
“Two weeks.” Poppy blew out her breath. “Okay. I’m guessing the awards are on a Sunday? Your game is on Monday, so you’ll
have to clear it with Coach, but I think we should be able to get you a flight out right after practice. We’ll need to figure
out what you’re going to wear—”
“Poppy.” Rosaline did a shit job of hiding her smile behind her fingertips. “Breathe. If you can’t find a commercial flight
out in time, there are always alternatives. All you need to worry about is what you’ll be wearing.”
What. “Me?”
“Sure.” Rosaline arched a brow and gave Poppy another of those sweeping once-overs that made her hot all over. “Unless you
were planning on going in the buff.”
Across the room, Cash did a poor job of concealing his laughter with a cough.
“I wasn’t aware I was going at all.”
“I pulled a few strings and managed to procure an extra ticket. It’s yours, assuming you want it.”
They were the WMAs. Of course Poppy wanted it.
Rosaline skirted the coffee table, making her way over to the door. “We’ll talk. Come on, Lyric.”
Lyric stretched up onto her tiptoes and gave Cash a lingering, closemouthed kiss. “I’ll text you in the morning?”
“’night, baby.” Cash brushed his lips against Lyric’s forehead and opened the front door. “Good night, Rosaline.”
Rosaline gave him a curt nod. “Good night, Curran.” She paused in the doorway and tossed a butter-wouldn’t-melt smile over
her shoulder. The place she’d sunk her teeth into Poppy’s neck throbbed in time with her heartbeat. “Have a good night, Poppy.”
“You too,” she said, doing a superb job of keeping her voice even if she did say so herself.
Cash locked the door and leaned his shoulder against it, smirking. “You want to tell me what Rosaline Sinclair was doing here
after midnight?”
“Do you want to wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, or should I do it for you?” Poppy sniffed and crossed her arms. “We had
things to discuss.” She nodded at the coffee table to where the half-eaten pizza lay. “She brought pizza.”
“Things to discuss, huh?” He kicked off the door and joined Poppy on the couch, taking a seat on the cushion Rosaline had vacated. The leather was probably
still warm and something about that made her shiver. “Funny how the WMAs just never came up.”
Poppy froze. “Oh. Um.”
“That’s what I thought.” Cash’s smile broadened. “Now, why don’t you tell me about that massive hickey, hm?”