“Hey, in my defense, you’re hardly an open book, Rosaline. You’re like the—I don’t know, like the fucking ‘Epic of Gilgamesh.’ One second, you’re staring at my mouth, and I can’t figure out if you want to kiss me or for me to stop talking forever. The next you’re asking me what my angle is. You can’t blame me for being confused by what you want.”
Rosaline scoffed. “Well, suffice it to say, I think of you plenty. It’s honestly irritating how often I do.”
“You know,” she huffed. “If you keep throwing around words likeirritating, you’re going to make me wonder ifI’mthe one reading this wrong.”
“Something you need to know about me,” Rosaline murmured, low and with purpose, making Poppy’s blood hot, “is that I don’t like wanting what I can’t have. Hence my irritation.”
Her breath hitched at the intensity of Rosaline’s gaze. “So, when you sayblow off some steam...I think I’m going to need you to bereallyexplicit here.”
She wasn’t entirely convinced Rosaline wasn’t talking about playing a rousing game of paintball at this point. Maybe duking it out in some ring. She needed it all spelled out for her, to avoid any sliver of doubt that this was actually happening inside her head.
“Explicitissort of the whole point.” Rosaline smiled sharply, teeth flashing white against the dark pink of her mouth. “I’ve got a capacious imagination and a list as long as my arm of things I’ve been thinking about doing to you since the moment you stepped through my front door. But if you want me to be specific? Most of them involve stripping you down, laying you out, and taking you apart until you’re strung out and shaking.” She reached out and, with two fingers, tucked a strand of hair behind Poppy’s ear, grazing the bolt of her jaw. “Is that specific enough, or would you like a demonstration?”
Holy shit.She fought the urge to squirm and pressed her knees together, an unignorable ache settling hot and heavy between her thighs. “At least buy a girl dinner first,” she joked, a little breathless.
Rosaline looked pointedly at the pizza box, then back at Poppy.
“Oh.” She flushed. “Prepared really is your middle name, huh?”
“Look, this job eats up ninety percent of my time. I don’t havetime to date. Even if I did, do you know how hard it is to find someone who checks evenhalfmy boxes?” The question was obviously rhetorical. “Discretion is vital considering what I do and who I work for. Then there’s the fact that work comes first for me, and most people don’t understand that. Or they’ll say they do, but they really don’t. Factor in my personal preferences—”
“Is this where you tell me your desires are very singular?” Falling back on humor was sort of Poppy’s go-to when she felt overwhelmed and this? Was very,veryoverwhelming.
Rosaline rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to do anything to you that you don’t beg me for. What I actually meant is that I’m not looking for anything serious. No strings. I like you, Poppy. You’re smart and you’re funny and I don’t hate spending time with you.”
“That’s a real ringing endorsement,” Poppy murmured.
Rosaline continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “More importantly? We both have skin in this game, and I trust you not to run and blab my business or Lyric’s, whichismy business, to the press. Most importantly?” She placed her hand high on Poppy’s thigh, thumb slipping under the soft flannel of Poppy’s sleep shorts. “I’m really,reallydying to hear what you sound like when I make you come.” Rosaline’s thumb swept an arc along the bare skin of her inner thigh and Poppy couldn’t suppress the shudder that rolled through her despite the mild irritation still simmering in her veins. “Does any of this sound like something you might be interested in?”
She was no stranger to the occasional one-night stand, even if that kind of sex usually left her unsatisfied, with an unresolved ache between her thighs and an itch under her skin she couldn’t quite scratch. But none of those hookups had ever made Poppy want like this. Want so badly she could barely breathe, barelythink,her hands shaking, and fingertips tingling with the needto touch and be touched in turn, skin hungry and desperate after only a few heady promises.
Rosaline had made it clear what was—and wasn’t—on the table. Even if Poppy wanted more, a year ago her life had been in shambles and today she was still facing the consequences of her choices, still piecing her life back together. Besides a cargo hold’s worth of baggage and a full-size bed in a house that wasn’t hers, what did she have to offer anyone right now, let alone someone as exceptional as Rosaline Sinclair? At least Poppy was self-aware enough to recognize her own shortcomings.
There was only one problem that made her hesitate, that kept her from blurting out an enthusiastichell yesand launching herself at Rosaline, eagerly accepting everything she had to offer.
“Wouldn’t this sort of be a conflict of interest?”
Rosaline’s hand went still. “How?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. You work for Lyric and I work for Cash and—”
“You’re not going to be thinking about work while I’m fucking you, Poppy.” A violent little shiver slithered down Poppy’s spine when Rosaline grazed the crease of her thigh with the edge of her thumbnail. Rosaline smirked and did it again to the same effect. “If I’m doing it right, you’re not going to be thinking very much at all.”
Fuck it. Poppy spread her legs, silently asking for more. “I just don’t want you to think I don’t take my job seriously.”
“Don’t worry.” Rosaline withdrew her hand from the bottom of Poppy’s shorts and reached for the drawstring at her waist. “I promise I’ll still respect you in the morning, Peterson.”
She had to be able to hear how hard Poppy’s heart was beating. Hell, people down in Clackamas County could probably hear it thundering inside her chest as Rosaline’s fingers flirted with the scalloped lace at the top of Poppy’s panties.
“That’s—that’s a relief,” she stuttered.
“So, are we good?” Rosaline’s eyes flitted from where Poppy’s sleep shirt was slightly rucked up her stomach to her face. “Because I really want to touch you now.”
“Please,” Poppy breathed.
Rosaline snapped the elasticized lace band of Poppy’s panties and chuckled when another shudder rolled through her, the subtle sting raising goose bumps along the skin of her thighs. “Begging?” She grinned. “Already?”
Poppy’s hips canted forward and lifted slightly off the couch, silently asking for Rosaline to stop teasing and to actually touch her. “Is that what you like?” Rosaline’s hair had once again fallen loose from the braid tossed over her shoulder and Poppy gave in to the impulse to tuck a strand behind her ear, to let her touch linger, tracing the plains of Rosaline’s face, fingers skimming her jaw, a smile tugging at her lips when Rosaline turned her face into the touch, her cheek pressed to Poppy’s palm. “You want me to beg you for it?”
