The idea was so ludicrous she couldn’t help but laugh. “Not in the slightest.” The rug under her was softer than some couches she’d slept on. But she wouldn’t mind seeing the rest of Rosaline’shouse. The bedroom, mostly. “I was just wondering what was on the agenda for the rest of the evening.”
“Agenda?” Rosaline asked, hauling herself to standing. Poppy stayed down, unsure if she evencouldstand, knees still weak. “You make it sound like I put together an actual schedule.”
“Ten to ten fifteen, fuck Poppy in the foyer,” she teased. “Check.”
Rosaline’s eyes crinkled at the corners, an amused smile tugging at her mouth. “Oh, please. I’m notthatanal.”
She had barely opened her mouth to make a joke when Rosaline, as if sensing what she was about to say, reached down and pressed a finger to her lips, effectively shushing her. Her eyes narrowed, lips twitching, clearly holding back a smile even if she didn’t want Poppy to see it. “That was low-hanging fruit. Don’t even.”
“You have no idea what I was about to say,” she protested playfully.
Rosaline’s hand cradled Poppy’s jaw. “What I know is that you areentirelytoo verbal for someone whose knees I just watched give out.”
“You’re resourceful.” She turned her head and pressed a kiss to Rosaline’s palm, looking up at her from beneath her lashes. “I’m sure you can figure out a way to shut me up.”
If not, Poppy had an idea or twelve she’d be more than happy to share.
“Can you stand, or are your knees still too weak?”
“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up.” She took Rosaline’s hand when she offered it, helping Poppy up. “No one likes a braggart, Rosaline.”
Rosaline’s thumb swept against Poppy’s cheekbone. There was a softness in her eyes, a tenderness to her smile, as she stared at Poppy, who had to have looked utterly debauched, tits out anddress hiked up around her waist, face undoubtedly flushed and sweaty and god knew what her makeup looked like now. Yet Rosaline was looking at her like she was the prettiest thing in the room.
“You still trust me?” she asked.
A flippant joke on the tip of her tongue was swiftly swallowed, the look on Rosaline’s face a touch too earnest to be met with humor.
“I do.”
Rosaline’s answering smile was resplendent, making Poppy’s stomach swoop with an intensity that stole her breath. Like she was on a roller coaster headed down the drop, all she could do was hold on and enjoy the ride.
With an enviably steady hand, Rosaline cupped her jaw, tipping her chin down, her gaze flickering between Poppy’s eyes and her lips. Poppy held her breath as Rosaline leaned in slowly, the distance between their faces dwindling, Poppy all but able to taste the single glass of champagne Rosaline had drunk during the show, the sweet, sharp scent of it mixing with the tang of Poppy’s arousal, clinging to Rosaline’s warm breath. It fanned against Poppy’s face, her lips, lips she parted in anticipation, holding perfectly still save for the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
Rosaline’s lips pressed against Poppy’s, pillowy soft and hot. Her tongue swept across the seam.
Poppy’s lungs burned and her knees shook, threatening to give out again. Rosaline tore her mouth away with a gasp, chest rising and falling against Poppy’s.
“I have an idea,” Rosaline said as if she hadn’t just turned Poppy’s world on its head, kissing her like she was starving for it. Starving for her.
“Am I going to like this idea?” she asked, following Rosaline past what looked like a formal living room and down another hall.
“I know I am,” Rosaline said, stopping in front of the first door on the left, reaching inside, flipping on the light. She gestured Poppy to go in ahead of her. “You,” she said, laughing, “are either going to love it or hate it.”
Her heart pounded. That sounded... ominous? Promising? She couldn’t be sure. “Do I get a hint at least?”
Like the rest of the house, what she’d seen of it, Rosaline’s bedroom was outfitted in rich jewel tones. The walls were painted a moody shade of teal, the tray ceiling too, and an amethyst-colored rug covered the dark hardwood floor. In the center of the room, against the wall, was a magnificent brass four-poster bed made up simply with a plush-looking emerald duvet Poppy wanted to roll around on.
Rosaline swept Poppy’s hair over her shoulder and reached for the zipper at the middle of her back. “I’ll do you one better and tell you everything.” She lowered the zipper the rest of the way, satin pooling around Poppy’s feet. “How’s that?”
Anticipation all but made her vibrate. “I’m listening.”
Rosaline’s breath ghosted against the shell of her ear. “First, I want you to go lie down. Middle of the bed, on your back. Get comfortable. Think you can do that?”
In that bed? She didn’t see how shecouldn’tget comfortable. “I don’t know,” she teased, padding across the room and kneeling onto the bed. She crawled toward the mountain of pillows piled at the headboard and flopped onto her back, doing as Rosaline had asked, getting comfortable. “That wasquitethe Herculean task.”
From the doorway, Rosaline looked at Poppy, eyes sweeping over her from head to toe, gaze hot and hungry. “See, you joke now, but in ten—hell, five—minutes you’re not going to be laughing.”
“If I’m not laughing,” she asked, sitting up slightly, propped on her elbows, watching as Rosaline reached for and undid the single button that held her suit jacket together, “whatamI going to be doing?”
