Felix.
Even the name made her insides quiver.
Poppy was lying on the bed, waiting for Felix to get done with his bath. She left the door open a crack so she would hear him when he came out. When he was finished, she planned on personally handing him the phone so he could make whatever calls he needed to make and get out of there. She just wasn’t ready for the kind of distraction he caused her. It was bad enough she found him attractive, but having a naked attractive man in her home was just asking for trouble.
The minutes ticked by painfully slow, and Poppy was hyper aware of every muted splash of water coming from behind the closed door just a few feet away. She pictured Felix, his muscled arms glistening with water, his intense gaze roving over every inch of her body. His hands were strong with long, thick fingers, and she imagined him running them over her body, tunneling beneath the oversized flannel shirt she’d swapped her ruined cami for to caress the sensitive skin on her thighs, her stomach and higher.
Shifting restlessly beneath the blankets, Poppy sighed longingly. She wasn’t new to entertaining fantasies in her head. In fact, she did it almost every night when she curled up with her romance novels, but this was different. It felt almost wrong to be having fantasy sex with a man she didn’t know who was in the next room. But she couldn’t stop the images from assaulting her. Felix running his smooth, firm lips across her breasts, sucking first one taut peak into his mouth, then the other. Felix smoothing his hands up her calf to the apex of her thighs, teasing her sensitive folds until he finally plunged a finger deep inside causing her to cry out from the pleasure. She let her own fingers wander south, until they slipped past the silky panties and found her swollen nub. The first touch made her gasp and as her fingers found a rhythm guaranteed to bring her to completion, she bit down on her bottom lip and let the sensations wash over her.
Poppy was fully into her fantasy, her mind weaving a vivid picture of Felix between her thighs, thrusting long and hard, when she heard the sound of a throat clearing.
Yanking her hand from beneath the blankets, Poppy jolted upright, causing her head to spin and stars to dance across her vision. She looked to the doorway to find Felix standing there, a towel wrapped around his narrow hips, tiny water droplets kissing his shoulders and chest. His wet hair was slicked back off his forehead, his eyes were narrowed dangerously on her, and she noted that his color and strength seemed to have returned.
“Um,” Poppy said nervously. How much had he seen? She could still feel a flush heating her skin and it was only growing hotter at the thought that he might have caught her in the middle of a very private moment. “Do you need something?”
Shaking his head, he eyed her suspiciously and one of his brows winged up. “I heard you call my name.”
She felt her cheeks flame red. Had she really called his name out loud? Lord, shoot her now. She wasn’t sure she could handle the embarrassment.
It was obvious to Poppy, as she watched Felix lean back against the door jamb, crossing his arms over his broad chest in a way that made the muscles appear larger, that he wanted her to fill in the blanks, and he wasn’t leaving until she did.
Like hell she would. No way would she tell him that he had played the starring role in her sexual fantasy. She had to come up with something plausible for why she would call his name, but what?
When an idea sparked, she jumped on it and beamed up at him. “I was just going to ask you if you wanted me to throw your clothes in the dryer. Otherwise, I’m afraid you’ll be stuck wearing a towel. Unless you’re not opposed to wearing a pink robe?”
She chewed her lip nervously while Felix fixed her with his intense gaze. She knew he was picking through her explanation, trying to find the holes, but in the end, he just shook his head again.
“No, they’re dry clean only.”
Poppy frowned. She didn’t own a single article of clothing that required dry cleaning. He must be well-off, she thought, which made her slightly more uncomfortable. She liked playing on even ground and now she just felt…well, poor. Her eyes darted around the room to the chipped paint on the baseboards, the used furniture and the creaking floorboards stained in places from water or animals, she didn’t know which. She wondered what kind of place he lived in, and what he must think of hers. Why should she even care? It wasn’t like she needed to impress the man. He was the one who needed her help. If he didn’t like her home, then he should have picked another house to squat in until help arrived.
But she did care, and that bothered her.
“Well, I can hang them up then. Maybe in front of the heater so they’ll at least dry faster?” she asked, feeling smaller now in his presence.
The look on his face said that he didn’t much like that idea either, but he had little choice if he didn’t want to spend the rest of the night in a towel.
“I guess that would be fine,” he said sternly, but made no moves to leave.
Silence reigned, and Poppy didn’t think she would last another minute under his scrutiny, so she popped out of bed and strode to the door. “I’ll get to it then,” she said, intending to squeeze past his large frame, but Felix wasn’t about to let her off the hook that easily.
Snagging her by the arm, he wheeled her back around to face him. The abrupt shift in direction and the limited space caused Poppy to crash into his chest. Her head snapped up and her mouth flew open, preparing to rip his head off for his manhandling ways, when she caught the smoldering look in his eyes.
“Now why don’t you tell me why you really called my name.” His voice held a note of challenge and his eyes bore into hers, daring her to lie.
Well, she could lie. She would lie. No way was she confessing anything to him. Jutting out her chin, she said, “I told you. I needed to know what you wanted me to do with your clothes.”
A sly grin split his lips. “Really?” he drawled, his grip on her upper arm growing firmer. He tugged her closer, putting her chest flush against his own, and snaked his free arm around her waist to hold her in place. Dipping his head until his lips grazed her ear, he whispered, “Is that why you were touching yourself?”
Poppy balked at his words. Pushing against his chest, she tried to free herself, but he was stronger than she was and his grip held firm. Finally, she gave up the struggle and sliced him with a searing look. “You’re a pig,” she gritted through her teeth.
He went on as if she hadn’t even spoken. “Tell me, Poppy,” her name on his lips was a sensual promise, “do you always get wet when you think about laundry?”
She slapped him. Hard. It wasn’t even a thought, but the embarrassment was so thick, it clouded her judgment and she lashed out.
She pulled her hand back immediately, shocked that she had hit him. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, fear coursing through her veins. If this guy really was a psycho, hitting him might just be the spark he needed to finally kill her. But the little voice in her head questioned the validity of that thought. Surely if he was a murderous letch, he would have killed her by now.
Anger flashed in those dark depths as Felix studied her, his jaw ticking wildly. For a moment, she thought he was going to yell at her, but instead he bent down until they were nose to nose and looked her straight in the eyes.
“Do I frighten you, Poppy?”
He did. He so did. But surprisingly not in the creepy, chop you into bits way. He scared her because he was so completely male, and every cell in her body was on fire for him. She couldn’t recall a time in her life that she felt anything so intensely, not even for her own husband, and it was terrifying to consider the implications of that.
She nodded slowly, swallowing tightly.
“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already,” Felix said, echoing her thoughts as he drew his nose across her cheek to her hair and breathed in deeply.
Did that mean he wasn’t going to hurt her then?
Poppy felt the hold he had on her arm loosen and his hand slip down to mold to her hip. The fingers on his other hand, the one wrapped around her waist, moved slowly up and down the small of her back. Shivers danced down her spine in response, and Poppy welcomed the sensation.
She could hear his breathing grow deeper, his thick chest rising and falling faster as one of his hands made a slow trek down her side, until his fingers found the bare flesh of her thigh. His arousal was evident, the thick length of him pressing against her belly through the fabric of the towel, and only served to spark her own intense desire for more. More of this, more of him. Just more.
“Felix,” she breathed huskily, and her knees nearly buckled when his teeth nipped the apple of her shoulder. His tongue swept out to soothe the bite. He continued that pattern, nipping and licking his way across her shoulder and down her arm, pausing at her wrist to kiss the thundering pulse there, and when he got to her hand, his eyes lifted to hers, and her thoughts skidded to a halt as she watched him suck her middle finger into his mouth. His tongue swirled over the pad of her finger, and what she saw lurking in his eyes sent moisture flooding between her thighs.
It was a promise of what he was going to do to her.
And, Lord help her, she was going to let him.
***
Felix couldn’t believe his luck.
He had been lying in the tepid bathwater—the shaking was finally gone, and his lids were growing heavy—when he heard his name called. At first he thought it was nothing, but then it came again, this time more distinct, almost a plea.
Running on pure adrenaline, Felix immediately pulled the plug and snapped a towel from the basket to wrap himself in, then he rushed to find her, certain something was wrong and she needed his aid. Felix couldn’t believe his eyes when he walked into the bedroom. The sight of Poppy, laid out on the bed, her head pushing back into the pillow, her hand tunneled beneath the blankets, nearly undid him. The picture she presented was so unbelievably sexy, he nearly came all over himself.
The air was thick with the musky scent of her arousal, and if he hadn’t been hot for her before, he certainly was now. His erection strained almost painfully behind the thin towel, and Felix had to force himself to calm down before he crossed the room and took what she so obviously wanted him to give.
When he cleared his throat to announce his arrival and she popped up, guilt plastered all over her sweet face, he wanted to curse out loud. Never in his life had he seen someone so incredibly beautiful. And he had been with some beautiful women. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders in thick waves, her breathing was heavy, and her milky white skin was flushed pink from her ministrations.
He had no problem envisioning what she would look like after he had his way with her.
When she stepped gracefully down from the bed, the ugly flannel nightgown that would normally act as an ice bath to any man’s libido cinched up, revealing yards of creamy pale flesh, and only served to ratchet up his need to get her naked and bury himself between her silky thighs.
Instead of hammering in his chest, his heartbeat slowed to a crawl and his blood turned to sludge in his veins. Time stood still as she walked toward him, the sway of her hips a hypnotic spell that sent his mind spiraling into forbidden places. The things he wanted to do to her were probably illegal, but as she brushed past him, he decided he didn’t care what laws he had to break. He had to have this woman. Even if she wasn’t ready to admit it yet, to herself or to him, she wanted him, and he intended to give her everything she wanted. As he drew her to him, he had only one thought on his mind: By the time he was through with her, she would know what it meant to be totally and thoroughly fucked.