Chapter 9 #3
She dropped back down, her hand still in his.
The silence between them lengthened and stretched, thick and charged and completely honest. Thom waited, leaving it up to her, giving her space, giving her grace.
She could fall into his arms, or she could walk away, and there would only be acceptance and no judgment.
There was freedom in that, and it made her bold.
“Just for now, just here…” she whispered. “But no promises.”
“Got it,” he rumbled back, still making no move to touch her. Stepping sideways, Poppy fumbled for the lifted seat closest to her.
Thom cocked an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” he asked.
She gestured to the seat. “I was going to stand on the seat to, you know…” she blushed, her words fading. God, she sounded so stupid. “You’re tall, I’m not,” she muttered.
Thom nodded. “True. But I have a solution for that.” Without warning, his arm banded around her waist, and he lifted her up and held him against him, their faces perfectly aligned. “Problem solved.”
Poppy couldn’t resist the urge to skim the pad of her thumb over his surprisingly full bottom lip.
“How long are you going to be able to hold me like that?” Poppy asked, curious. “At best, it’s a temporary solution.”
“Why don’t we find out?” Thom asked her. Despite their breath mingling, he still didn’t make a move to kiss her.
“I want to kiss you,” Poppy murmured.
“I know,” he replied. “I want that, too, but I don’t know if you are ready for this, ready for me. For how much I want you.”
She wasn’t. But she didn’t care. “Let’s do it anyway.”
Thom’s eyes met hers, and he just stared at her, naked desire for her blazing from his eyes. Against her stomach, his erection hardened and lengthened. Thom simply held her eyes, not trying to hide his desire. He wanted her. She liked that he did.
But it scared her. And because she was scared, thoughts of too soon, their history, her past failures, and her ex, washed over her.
“Stop thinking, Poppy. If you have to, only think about me,” Thom growled, and Poppy heard frustration and a hint of empathy in his voice.
How did he do that—slip past her defenses and land inside her thoughts? He seemed to know, instantly and unfailingly, what she was thinking without her saying a single word.
It was something no one but him had ever managed.
As for their attraction, well, the only explanation was that it was a crazy, chemical reaction they’d developed.
But they could handle a little chemistry, couldn’t they?
Her body was game to try, but her mind was doing some serious backpedaling.
But this time her brain could bitch and whine; she wasn’t going anywhere.
She wanted Thom. Not casually. Or safely.
She wanted him the way people wanted the scary things, forbidden, untouchable things—because the wanting itself made her feel alive.
Authentic Poppy wanted sexy Thom. She didn’t know Authentic Poppy well, but hadn’t she come to H-Town to find her and get to know her?
“God, I’ll grow old waiting for you… Time’s up, sweetheart.”
Then Thom’s mouth covered hers, and Poppy knew—instantly—that her hesitation had been warranted. The flicker of fear, the instinct to brace herself, hadn’t been weakness. It had been instinct. Because she’d never been held like this. Never touched like this. Never—God—feasted on like this.
His one arm still held her, seemingly without strain, while his other cupped the back of her head, fixing her mouth to his.
His muscled chest pressed into her, her breasts crushed against him, her body fitting into his, a puzzle piece she’d been missing.
He tipped his hips and, despite the layers of denim between them, her core brushed against his erection, and sharp, dizzying awareness skittered through her.
But it was his mouth that melted her.
Thom did everything well, and he brought his A-game to the kissing table.
He wasn’t hurried or careless; he took his time to taste her, to know her, as if some devil had whispered in his ear that this was all he’d get.
A slow sip here. Next, a deeper pull. The glide of his tongue, deliberate, demanding, then gentle and coaxing, keeping her dizzy, off-balance.
Her knees softened, and her brain powered down.
Thom used his free hand to do what she couldn’t.
He nudged the cinema-style seat down and shifted her with effortless ease, moving her to stand on it, her head now slightly higher than his.
Unable to stop kissing him, Poppy wound her hands around his neck to touch her lips to his, sighing when he picked up where he left off.
With both hands free, he started to roam.
After pulling her shirt out from her jeans, he explored the line of her spine, lingered at the small of her back, drifted lower.
Over her bottom, his fingers spearing into the space between her jeans and her butt, playing with the chord of her thong.
His other hand came up to undo the buttons of her shirt, leaving it to fall open, and cool air touched her bare skin.
Poppy pulled away to look down, mesmerized by his tanned hand dark against her lighter skin.
While she watched, his fingers snuck under the cup of her bra to cover her breast. Instantly, her nipple swelled into his palm, demanding attention.
Pulling aside her bra cup, Thom dipped his head to suck her nipple into his mouth, hitting that perfect spot between pleasure and pain. Poppy’s whimper seemed to echo in the empty theater.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Just let me love you.”
“Thom, we can’t … not here.” Look, she wasn’t a prude, but this was a public place, and anyone could walk in.
“The doors are shut, we’re hidden in the shadows, no one will see anything. Besides, we’re not going to make love.”
They weren’t? Ah. Damn.
“Will you let me carry on?”
She nodded happily, and he swiped his mouth across hers, nuzzling her nose before going in for a longer, deeper kiss.
She was so caught up in the tangle of his tongue against hers that she barely registered his hands undoing her leather belt, the buttons on her jeans opening.
It was only when his hands pushed her jeans down her hips that she gasped.
Her gaze instantly went to the big double doors.
They were still closed, and they were tucked into a very dark corner.
“Trust me, Pops.”
She always had. She still did. Thom would never do anything to cause her pain or embarrassment. He looked up into her face, and she saw lust blazing in his eyes. “Can I touch you?” he asked, his words low, slow, and so very sexy.
She swallowed, nodded, and when he looked down, she followed his gaze.
Thom used his thumb to pull aside her lacy white thong.
His shoulders rose and fell in a shuddery sigh as his thumb drifted over her labia, settling on her most sensitive spot.
Poppy rested her forehead on his clavicle, her eyes closed, awash in sensation.
“You’re going to come, and I’m going to watch you fall apart.”
She needed this, needed to fall apart like this. It had been so long since she’d felt this loved.
Poppy gasped as Thom slid a long finger into her folds, and she started to pant as he pleasured her, pulling out, sliding his finger over her clit and into her in a slow, steady, orgasm-building rhythm.
Another finger joined the party, and soon she couldn’t hold back her moans and sighs.
She hurtled up, reaching for that fireball of pleasure that she hadn’t experienced in far too long…
“You’re so hot, so close,” Thom growled in her ear. “So goddamn beautiful. I could come from just looking at you, hearing you.”
Thom curled his fingers inside her and flicked her clit with his thumb. Poppy shuddered in his arms and fell apart, riding his fingers to milk the last sensation. She spun away and tumbled through space and time, caught up in the colors.
As she floated down, her forehead on Thom’s shoulder, she realized it was her best orgasm ever…
And she’d had it in a darkened theater with a man she’d once called her best friend. With her friends and a bunch of strangers in the lobby next door.
Nothing about the last half hour had been sensible. And that, terrifyingly, was the problem.