Chapter 21
I’M PLAYING WITH FIRE.
Dallas
I never thought I’d be the person to hold so much restraint.
Now, because of it, I’m pacing my living room after getting home from Seven Stools.
I turn the TV on just to hear something, only to turn it off again because it doesn’t help take my mind off Poppy.
I told her I wouldn’t kiss her, not like that, but my skin is still crawling with the need to taste her.
I should have fucking done it.
I feel like I can’t breathe or even think straight.
Coming to a halt at my front window, I look outside and across the lawn to her house. Her front porch light glows a soft yellow, illuminating the snow still sitting on the ground around the porch. A light is on in her living room, telling me she’s home—she’s awake.
What would happen if I went over there right now?
I wouldn’t be able to control myself around her anymore.
That’s the only answer I have.
Without thinking, I put on my jacket and boots, closing my front door behind me. I walk across the yard in ankle-deep snow because I can’t wait another minute to see her again.
Poppy is the high you crave with every fiber of your being. You need it more than your next breath, even though you know you’re going to crash in the end.
I lift my hand to knock, but it opens before I have the chance.
“Dallas,” she breathes out softly, almost as if she’s been waiting for me.
As my eyes trail up her body, my breath catches in my throat. She has a smile on her face—a welcoming and friendly one. Alarm bells ring in my head that I shouldn’t be here. I need to stop putting myself in these positions with her before I cross a line that she will despise me for.
I’m playing with fire.
But I’ll gladly burn myself over and over again with her.
She steps back, opening the door wider, allowing me into her space. And I follow, because I’m learning that I’ll follow Poppy anywhere.
There’s a shift in the air the moment I cross the threshold of her front door.
It’s something I can’t quite explain. It feels like exhaling after you’ve been holding your breath for so long.
It’s not about the decorations, the furniture, or the lighting.
It’s deeper than that. It’s like my nervous system recognizes the space before my mind does.
The stillness wraps around me, but it doesn’t feel cold. It feels warm like a thick blanket.
It feels like…home.
Poppy disappears down the hall without a word.
My eyes settle on the corner setup she has, with a lamp hanging over a table and a single chair.
A puzzle is scattered across it as if she just recently started a new one.
Walking over to it with the comfort her space brings, I pick up a piece, assessing what she’s started.
The one piece I picked up is the missing puzzle piece for a small corner section she’s been working on.
Smiling, I put it in, letting it fit perfectly.
When she returns with a cardigan over her T-shirt, I clear my throat as if I’ve been caught.
“I thought you weren’t any good at those?” Poppy smirks.
With a smile growing on my face, I shrug. “I’ve been practicing with that puzzle you brought over for Sage.”
“You what?”
“I figured if it’s something you like to do, that I could learn to like it, too.”
“And?”
“It’s oddly therapeutic. I don’t hate it,” I say with a chuckle.
“That…makes me oddly happy,” she admits.
Damn, the hold she has on me tightens. I don’t move from where I stand because if I do, I’ll end up throwing her over my shoulder, finding her bedroom, and having my way with her like I’ve been so desperate to do.
“Listen, Poppy. I didn’t mean to intrude on your night like this, but I wanted to talk about earlier at the bar.”
Her lips part, and her eyes widen, but she catches herself, schooling her features to remain neutral. “You don’t have to explain anything. I get it. Alcohol sometimes makes you say things you don’t mean.”
Is that what she thinks?
Does she think everything I said about it not being the right place, the right time, was because of alcohol?
She averts her gaze, making herself busy by folding the blanket she had on the couch and draping it neatly over the back corner.
“Poppy,” I say, begging for her attention to be back on me. Begging her to look at me.
She spins around, eyes meeting mine, and they’re…glassy?
No. It can’t be.
“I understand, Dallas.”
“Poppy,” I say her name much softer this time, meeting her where she stands. “Is that what you think?”
She closes her eyes, chest rising and falling as she sighs.
“It’s fine, Dallas.”
And then it hits me. I think back to everything she’s admitted to me.
I know very little about how her brain works, and when she told me all there was to know about herself, it didn’t scare me or make me want to run.
I remember a few friends from college who also struggled with the same thing she does.
One of them was particular about needing stuff in a specific order, and another always feared that we judged them for their quirks.
It doesn’t scare me.
Poppy doesn’t scare me.
Reaching up, I rake my fingers through her long hair because I can’t help but touch her in some way whenever she’s around. “It’s not fine. The last thing I ever want you to think is that I said those things because of some whiskey in my system.”
“But—”
I cut her off with a finger to her lips, soft under my touch.
The same ones I want my mouth on. “I didn’t drink tonight, Poppy.
I was already drunk on being in the same room as you, watching you dance, and laughing with your friends.
I’m inebriated in the best way possible, without a sip of alcohol. ”
Bringing my other hand up, I cup her face with both hands and tilt her head just right so she stays focused on me. Her skin feels soft under my touch, but it burns every part of my body. Our heart rates are pounding erratically but in sync. I can tell from how it feels under my hand.
“Is your brain in overdrive right now?” I breathe out, dangerously close to her lips.
She nods her head in my hold.
“Talk to me.”
“I…uh. This. Right here. You did this before.”
“Holding you?”
“Yes.”
“And what about it?”
“I thought”—she closes her eyes—“I keep thinking you’re going to kiss me when you do this.”
I bring my face closer to hers, letting my lips graze just barely above hers. Fuck, I already know she’s going to taste so sweet. This is dangerous. I’m playing with fire. I’m going to get fucking burned.
I also no longer give a shit.
Because if Poppy wants this, then I’ll give her everything.
“Is that what you want me to do, Poppy?”
With her eyes still closed, refusing to look at me, she practically moans. She moans at the tone of my voice. And it goes straight to my cock, with nothing but a pair of sweatpants to keep it down.
She doesn’t move an inch from the hold I have on her face, so I let my thumb caress the apple of her cheek. She finally looks at me. Emerald green eyes bore into mine and filled with so much fire.
“I didn’t think I did. I tried hard not to want it. This isn’t who I am, but to answer your question…yes. I do, but also understand if you don’t want this.”
I’ve pictured this moment since I first laid eyes on her at the coffee shop. I’ve played this moment in my head many nights when my head lay on the pillow and I couldn’t fall asleep.
Every glance, every touch, every breath held was mutual. Just two people circling the same gravitational pull, waiting for their orbits to align.
She doesn’t move. She doesn’t pull away.
My heart is beating so loudly that I swear she can hear it.
She stares at me, waiting on bated breath for my next move, and looking at me like she wants to be undone by me.
God help me. I’m so gone for her.
“Fuck it.”
Leaning in slowly, her breath catches. My stomach swirls with anticipation as her eyes flutter closed, and that does it. I press my lips to hers, keeping both hands on the sides of her face.
The world around me explodes.
But not even the fantasy of kissing Poppy prepared me for this.
It’s not fireworks or sparklers in the night. This is a kiss that sits on the edge of the fault line, splitting me wide open, shaking the world around me.
Her lips are soft and sweet. The tiniest sound coming out of her tells me she’s waited just as long for this moment. Almost like a relief that it’s finally happening.
I want more.
I want everything she’s willing to give me.
I let my hands slide into her hair at the same time her fingers grip at my shirt, pulling me closer, keeping me there like she’s afraid I’ll pull away.
Not a chance in hell.
For the first time in my life, I know what it feels like to kiss someone and know it’s right.
Her body melts into mine, and I deepen the kiss as my tongue grazes her bottom lip, urging her to open up for me. And she does. It takes everything in me not to lift her, wrap her legs around my waist, and pin her to the back of her front door.
This isn’t a curiosity between us.
This is inevitable.
She pulls back, breaking the kiss apart and barely breathing. I press my forehead to hers, and she stares at me with those dark emerald eyes.
She’s looking at me like I just changed her entire world.
But I think she just changed mine.