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Thoughts of my mom had the throbbing in my head increasing, and I strode down the hall to the bathroom, cranking the knob on the shower to hot. When it was ready, I stepped under the spray and let the scalding water beat down on my head and shoulders. I stood there for a long time until my skin was red, and my head was slowly clearing.
As the water cooled, I soaped up quickly, drying myself offwith a towel from a hook on the wall. The door to the bedroom was still shut, so I assumed Poppy was still sleeping. I had a pair of sweatpants hanging on the hook on the back of the door, and I tugged them on before running the towel over my hair to dry it off enough to go make some eggs for breakfast.
That was what I was doing when the door to the bedroom creaked open and soft footsteps padded down the hallway. I braced myself for the sight of Poppy in my T-shirt, but when I glanced over my shoulder, she’d pulled on a pair of my pants, far too long for her. A ghost of a smile tugged at my lips because the end of the pants kept covering her feet while she tried to walk, tripping as she entered the living room.
“Morning,” I said, steeling myself against an almost primitive rush of affection at the sight of her.
The barrier went back up in my brain, brick by brick by brick, sealing off any remnants of the night before.
Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright in her face. “I think maybe your pants are hazardous to my health.” She gave me a wry grin and picked up her outfit from the night before where she’d folded it on the couch. “I’m gonna go, uh…” She hooked a thumb back toward the bedroom, and I nodded.
“Eggs will be ready in a few minutes,” I told her. “Want some toast?”
Poppy shook her head, her dark hair in tangles around her face. Probably from the way I manhandled it the night before. My stomach tightened at the memory of fisting it in my hand, and I tore my gaze away as she disappeared down the hall again.
As I divvied up the eggs onto two plates, the simple domesticity of it knocked the breath from my lungs. But I ignored the implications, focusing instead on pouring us coffee and setting everything on the table.
Poppy smiled gently when she returned, her hair pulledoff her face and her slightly wrinkled outfit a much better fit than anything of mine. “This looks great, thanks.”
I shrugged. “Can’t make much, but I’m good at scrambled eggs.”
She took a seat, sipping the coffee first, and then digging straight into her food. When the first bite hit her tongue, she closed her eyes and made a small noise at the back of her throat that had me shifting in my seat.
It was kinda like the noise she made when I put two fingers between her legs.
I cleared my throat and tucked into my breakfast.
It was quiet as we ate, and after she finished, she set her fork down before giving me an impish look. “Eggs were almost as good as the sex.”
I choked on my last bite, and Poppy laughed when I had to get up for a drink of water.
“Sorry,” she said.
After draining half the glass, I glared at her over my shoulder. “Somehow I don’t think you are.”
“I told you I’d be fine with one night, Jax.” Her words were direct, but she’d shifted her gaze down to her empty plate. Her fingers toyed with the handle on the fork. “And that one night was a great one,” she added.
Instead of answering, I let out a slow breath and took my seat again. Her eyes tracked over my bare chest, and I wished I’d taken the time to sneak a shirt from my room. I wanted to snap at her not to look at me like that, but hell, if she was topless, I’d be staring too.
I wanted to tell her that it was a great night for me too, but those words lodged in my throat just like the food, cutting off my air supply until I swallowed them down. It would be easier to redefine the lines from before now that the air was calm outside and the sun shone. We’d slept in long enough that the temps rose above freezing, and with the addition of the bright sun, I knew the roads would be fine for her to get home.
Telling her anything would only make it harder for her to leave.
“Do you need me to drive you home?” I asked.
Her gaze moved over my face, and eventually, she shook her head. “I called an Uber while I was changing.”
My jaw clenched, and I nodded. “And if you get Patrice again?”
Her mouth curled into a smile. “I’ll have a great story for her, won’t I?”
I grunted.
Poppy glanced at her phone and then brought her plate to the sink. She turned, pinning me with a searching look. “When do you leave on your trip?”
“Uh...” I grimaced. “Need to buy my tickets yet.”
She rolled her eyes. “Soon, huh?”
