Page 65 of Stay Wild Darlin’

The door was wide open. She’d seen everything.

“I didn’t hear anything,” she blurted, turning and bolting toward the kitchen. “I didn’t— I shouldn’t have— I knocked. I did! I heard something and I thought⁠—”

“Wait—” I called as I stumbled into the hallway. “Wait. Poppy.”

She froze.

Swallowed hard—loud enough for me to hear it—and turned, backing up, step by step, until she was cornered against the edge of the kitchen counter, hands still hovering in the air.

“I-I was getting water,” she said, her voice small.

“Poppy,” I said again, stepping closer.

She didn’t move.

“Poppy,” I said a third time—right in front of her, my breath brushing her lips, the heat still rolling off my skin like a furnace.

“Tell me . . .” I murmured, eyes locked on hers. “Tell me what name you heard when I came.”

Her lips parted. Her throat bobbed again. “Mine.”

This time, I froze.

Her eyes darted to the floor, cheeks flushed, breathing uneven. “It was . . . my name.”

I stared at her. At the curve of her mouth, the way her lips parted like she was still catching her breath. Her gaze avoided mine.

A groan tore from my throat as I slammed my hands against the cabinet above her head, caging her in, but not touching her. My arms trembled, my forehead dropping close to hers as I fought every fucking urge in my body.

“Fuck,” I muttered, the word raw. “Fuck.”

I pushed off the cabinets and turned around, dragging my hands through my hair as I moved away.

I couldn’t stay this close. Couldn’t breathe with her this near. My skin still burned from release, and this—the confirmation, the confession, the fact that she heard it and was still here.

I needed distance.

I needed to get the hell out of this room.

Because if I stayed . . .

I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.

27

Poppy

The second he left the kitchen, it was like the air rushed out of the room with him.

I stood there, frozen, heart pounding so hard I could barely hear my own thoughts over it. My back was still pressed to the counter. My knees weak.

What is wrong with you?

He’s your boss. He’s Cora’s dad. He’s—he’s⁠—

“Fuck,” I whispered, pressing both palms to my cheeks as if I could cool the heat rising beneath my skin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He’d looked at me like he wanted to devour me, and then he’d groaned and walked away like I’d burned him by breathing near him.