Poppy didn’t even have time to catch her breath before Decker’s lips were on hers in a belly-flipping, heart-twisting, lip-smacking kiss that made it impossible to tell whether this was a strategic diversion or a complete derailment.
DIARY ROOM:
Miles: Hi, I’m Miles. I’m eighteen and I’m an architectural major at UCLA who appreciates yoga, emotional intelligence, and working with my hands. I came toFacelifts to Flipsto help my uncle, but they stole my phone. So if you want to reach me, DM me and I’ll hit you back in five weeks.
14
“Stop being a bed hog,” Poppy mumbled through a giant yawn.
“Says the girl sliding her way into my sheets.” Kiki grabbed the corner of the blanket and flipped all the way over, rolling until she looked like a mummy, effectively yanking the blankets clear off Poppy, leaving her in nothing but her pj’s and the late night’s chill.
“Seriously?”
“You can tell me why you’re camped out in my twin bed when you could be in a California king in your own bedroom with your own sex god or you can freeze to death.”
Poppy would rather freeze to death than admit that she kissed Decker. Because not only had she kissed him, she’dkissedhim. The kind of kiss where all rational thought flew out the window and sheer hormones took over. If he’d picked her up and carried her off to the bedroom like a caveman, she wasn’t sure she would have objected.
Only he’d put the kibosh on anything more. One second, hormone alley; the next, cold-bucket alley. Even more embarrassing,as he’d pulled back, her lips had extended like a snake trying to maintain connection as long as they could. But when he went in for round two, he’d given her enough air to gather her wits. She was, embarrassingly enough, plastered to him like plastic wrap.
Then there was the way her hands fisted in the hem of his shirt, clinging on for dear life.
Oh my god! How humiliating!
She’d yanked her hands back in a flash and yelled, “Bad lips!” Even though she was pointing the scolding finger his way, she was speaking to her own lips. Because they were behaving so badly, they needed a good scolding.
Without further explanation, she turned and sprinted across the law like the coward she was and snuck into Kiki’s room—where she planned to hide out the entire night.
She needed time to process because she still hadn’t a clue as to how she was going to face Decker in the morning. She’d considered avoidance strategy, then remembered she’d promised never to do that again. Stupid promises. Plus, it wasn’t as if they were working on the Winchester Mystery House. Three thousand square feet doesn’t seem all that big when you’re talking about a man built like Paul Bunyan with his ox of a dog.
The worst part of this whole mess wasn’t just the kiss. It was that she’d kissed him back. And it wasgood.Scratch that. It was mind-blowing. He’d only used his lips and her panties caught fire.
Talk about a kissing god. Lord, she needed help.
She side-eyed Kiki, who was staring her down, and sighed. If there was anyone in the world who’d know what to do it would be her best friend. And since the backyard and pool house were the only places not camera-ed up, and the cameras were turned off for the night, now was the time.
“Thor and I kissed. Well, he kissed me, but I kissed himback. It wasn’t a game of tonsil hockey or anything, it was more of a consensual exchange of lip smacking.”
“That was clear by the way you kept mumbling ‘Bad lips, bad lips, bad lips’ when you tiptoed in,” Kiki said. “What I want to know? Is his hockey stick as impressive as the censor tag implies?”
Poppy sprang up. “It was just a kiss!”
Kiki yawned. “Oh. Of course it was. I forgot who I was talking to. A certified hall monitor.”
“Why does everyone assume I’m so boring?”
“You’re sharing a bed with a sex god, who wants to do more than swap bedtime stories, and you call a kiss ‘consensual lip smacking’ instead of foreplay,” Kiki said. “The problem is, I can tell you like him.”
Poppy flopped back on the bed. “It doesn’t matter. We’re both here to do a job. America is watching and I don’t want to make a public mistake when Aunt Opal’s house and my show are at stake.”
“How is mind-blowing sex a threat to any of that?”
“Are you kidding? I’m cursed with the worst picker in the history of pickers. Even Cupid has it out for me. My aunt is the most famous matchmaker in the world and I am perpetually single.”
“And what is that reason again?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes you do. You have become so myopically career-focused that you don’t have time for dating and relationships.”
