I nod, putting my fork down as he gets up from his chair and rounds the island until he’s standing next to me.
“What else were you picturing?”
His voice is a low rumble that creates a vibration in my stomach and lower. I shift in my seat, turning to face him. He’s so close I can smell the fresh cedar scent of his soap and I’m not sure what’s happening here, or what I want to happen, but I can see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes and when he takes a step even closer, I’m lost.
I tip my chin up and time seems to stop as my eyes drift shut and I feel his mouth brush mine, his lips firm and soft, and I lean into the kiss, moaning when he takes it deeper, his hands coming up my ribcage, thumbs brushing my nipples.
Suddenly, he breaks away and my eyes fly open. He steps back, shaking his head. “Poppy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
My body is humming, my blood pulsing slow and thick as I try to make sense of what just happened.He didn’t mean it?
Of course he didn’t. I mean I just confessed that I was imagining him in his boxers. But I’m clearly not his type.
“Right.”
“That shouldn’t have happened. It was a mistake.” He puts more space between us and without thinking I move off the stool, completely forgetting about my injury, the crutches, everything except wanting to save face and retreat to somewhere where I can recover from what was probably the best kiss of my life.
A mistake.
A sharp pain jolts through my ankle, and I gasp as my leg buckles. My knee strikes the floor before Gibb grabs me under the arms.
“Poppy, are you okay?” He lifts me against his chest, and I want to cry because my first instinct is to snuggle against him.
But I can’t, because this was a mistake and I imagined everything between us and it’s just me wanting something that isn’t really there at all.
I’m definitely not okay.
7
Gibson
I’m a fucking idiot.
There are no other words for it. That kiss. The way her lips melted against mine, her soft, little moan. I go instantly hard at the memory of it.
She might have been picturing me in my underwear, but I spent the entire morning imagining her lush curves under that shirt, my mouth watering every time she moved, and the buttons pulled tight across her generous tits.
Even in the barn this morning, with Stevie cuddled in her lap, I had to busy myself with chores I’d already done earlier that morning to stop myself from going down on my knees and begging her to let me touch her.
Jesus. What kind of monster am I? She was abandoned, injured, and I offered her a safe place to stay and now I’m molesting her at the kitchen island.
She was so eager to get away from me she stood up and reinjured herself. After awkwardly grabbing her, I had to helpher over to the couch, where is where I left her, icing her ankle. After assuring myself she wasn’t badly injured or terrified of being in this house with me, I ran upstairs like a coward.
I tip my head back letting the shower pound down on my face wishing I could go back and erase what I’d done.
For the first time in forever I was enjoying just being around someone. Talking, laughing, sharing a meal. And I had to go and ruin it because I was thinking with my cock instead of my brain.
When I asked her that question and she responded, her voice husky, something in me snapped. Instead of simply flirting back, making sure she knew I wasn’t going to fall on her like some sex-starved recluse, I did exactly the opposite. I didn’t even ask if I could touch her.
I just did what I wanted.
And the way she responded. Fuck. My hand drifts down and wraps around my cock, stroking slowly, the ache building as I imagine what would have happened if I didn’t force myself to step away from her and give her space.
Her nipples tight under the thin material of her shirt, the way she shivered as my fingers brushed over the tips. I picture undoing those damn tiny buttons and undoing her bra, my hand moving faster under the warm water. Would she moan again if I licked them? Pinch them while I slide myself between her thighs?
My cock jerks, release hitting me hard and fast as guilt and pleasure war together in my chest.
I finish my shower, wishing my dirty little fantasy had quelled my need for the woman in my home.
