She’d fallen for this man and he would forever be in her heart.
He must have felt the change because he lifted his head to look into her eyes. “I got you,” he whispered.
The only question that remained as they both found their pleasure was if he’d let her support him back.
DIARY ROOM:
Poppy: What do you mean, the rash on my face? Oh, that. *uncomfortable giggle* It must be an allergic reaction to the grout.
25
Poppy was snuggled deep into the bed, placid from a night of lovemaking, when she felt a deliciously sharp pain on her right nipple. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and found the covers slightly pulled back, exposing her breast to the chilled morning air, and Decker’s mouth.
“What are you doing?”
“Putting a little good in your morning.”
“Mmm,” she moaned, stretching to ease some of the tension building below her belly button. “I could wake up to this every day.”
As the words slipped out her eyes snapped open. She expected to find a freaked-out Decker after her implication of forever. Instead, he was wearing a devilish grin.
“How about waking up to this?” The pungent aroma of coffee and hazelnut steam tickled her nose. “But you have to wake up first.”
“Tease,” she replied, but opened her eyes fully.
Sitting on a beautiful wooden lap tray was a plate overflowing with pancakes, eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns. Her heart ricocheted around her chest like a flyaway pinball.
“Decker, this is amazing. Where did you get it?”
“Kiki let me borrow her kitchen. Granted, she stood over me like a gargoyle sharpening her claws with that knife she carries like most women carry handbags. She said your favorite is pancakes.”
“They are. But where did you find pancake mix?” Poppy had been in the pool house pantry and it was stocked with ketchup, pickles, and a jar of peanut butter.
“Mix? Oh, baby,” he said, placing the tray over her lap. “These are made from scratch. Even has my mom’s special ingredient.”
She hoped that special ingredient was love, but she was too scared to ask.
“So you cook, too? I’ll have to file that away for next time.”
She froze because there she was again, implying that this was something more than a couple nights of sex. It was her second slip-up, which had to mean something. Right? At least on her part. As for Decker, she hadn’t a clue as to where he stood on the topic. Especially since they were T-minus one week until completion and life would resume as normal.
The problem? Her new normal didn’t look anything like it had when she’d entered the set. Somewhere along the way that animosity had turned into like and eventually love. She was afraid of too many more mornings like this, because it could turn into something more dangerous. What if he didn’t feel the same?
“What?” he asked gently, and she realized she was staring at him.
She almost blew it off but then reminded herself that she’d promised not to hide from him.
“Last night felt different,” she said, trying to tamp down the shyness and uncertainty twisting into a complicated knot in her stomach. “Unless that was just me.”
He took her hand, brought it to his mouth, and pressed a kiss on her palm. “It wasn’t just you, Angel. I felt it, too.”
And that pinball hit every rail in her body three times over until her lungs were free of oxygen. Not wanting to get too far from herself without clarification, she asked, “So what does that mean?”
He nudged her over so he could sit against the headboard. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
Between her aunt selling Stark House and Poppy not sure where her next project was coming from, she had enough unknowns on her plate. She didn’t ask for this, hadn’t wanted it, yet there it was, staring her down.
She didn’t just love him.
