Page 88 of Goode Vibrations

“How else can I help you understand, Pop?”

She dragged her fingers through my hair, again and again. “I think…I think maybe more of those kisses would help.” A smile up at me that was as tender and affectionate as it was adorable and heart-palpitating, heart-stoppingly gorgeous. “I think that might do the trick.”

“I think I could manage just a couple more kisses.”

“Just a couple?” A moue, faking a pout.

“I mean, if you really wanted me to kiss you, IguessI could manage it.”

“I would love it if you did,” she said. “I really do enjoy the way you kiss me. It’s rather nice.”

“Rather nice, hmm? Is that all?” I kissed her, and this time, there was more than just tenderness in it. “What would I have to do to get it up past ‘rather nice?’”

She clawed at my shoulders over my shirt as I kissed her again, this time harder, deeper. “That’s a good start,” she gasped, when I released her.

Then she pushed at me, suddenly ferocious, and we rolled together and I ended up on the bottom, with Poppy straddling me.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” she whispered, once she was on top. Cradling my face in her hands, she nuzzled her lips on mine without making it a kiss, nose to nose, chin to chin. And then took my mouth, demanding another searing, mind-melting kiss. “But we can do better.”

And then she slashed her lips onto mine yet again, and this time the kiss was burning, devouring, starving, desperate. We clung to each other through it, hands gripping wherever they found flesh, scraping, seeking bare skin.

Finally we broke apart once more.

I pulled at the hem of her shirt. “I think maybe I could kiss you more thoroughly if this weren’t in the way.”

She sat up. “Oh, well, in that case, please, allow me to remove the distraction.” And began to peel the shirt off.

I caught her wrists. “I think maybe I had better do it. You did say you’d forgotten how, remember.”

She snapped her fingers. “You know, you’re right. I just clean forgot how. You definitely had better help me.”

She was wearing a long-sleeve T-shirt, deep scarlet, V-neck, made from thin, silky cotton, clinging to her skin, cut to accentuate her bust and trim waist. With it, tight, stretchy jeans and black boots with chunky two-inch heels.

I gathered the hem of her shirt in my hands. “I feel like a kid on Christmas about to open a present he’s been waiting for all year.”

“I’m wearing a bra and underwear, so I’m definitely all wrapped up for you.” She grinned. “I woke up feeling sexy, so I put on my skimpiest lingerie. It looks so good, you may not even want to take it off.”

I growled. “Oh, I will. But I just may have to make you put it back on so I can take it off you again.” I lifted. Lifted, baring her tummy. “I can’t wait to be skin to skin with you, Poppy.”

Then I had the shirt off and she was shaking her hair out—loose, wild, black wavy curtains around the golden skin of her shoulders. White lingerie, and when she said it was her skimpiest, she wasn’t kidding. The bra, such as it was, existed mainly as sheer mesh, with a scattered starburst of flowers embroidered over her nipples.

“Fuck me,” I breathed. “So fucking gorgeous.”

“I’d love to,” she said, “but I can’t until you’re finished undressing me.”

She rolled backward, stood up, backed away. I followed, knelt in front of her. Kissed her belly, her hip, over the waist of her tight, dark wash jeans. Helped her out of the boots, the tiny white ankle socks. Reached up, freed the button of her jeans, then lowered the zipper. She watched, gazing down at me. Tugged the jeans down—to thighs, past her knees. Around her ankles. She’d have just stepped out of them, but this was my show—my job. I gently tugged her foot free of one leg, then the other. Just to draw it out, I neatly folded the jeans and set them aside. Now she was clad in just the lingerie—and she hadn’t been exaggerating. She looked so fucking incredible in all white, like an angel of lust, that I almost didn’t want to strip her any further.

I held her hips in my hands and stared up at her, kneeling in front of her. “You’re a goddess, Poppy.”

“Your goddess,” she breathed.

“Mine.”

The key word a few lines up is “almost.” Meaning, I absolutelyhadto have her the rest of the way out of her clothes.

Needed her naked. Needed her skin, bare, all for me.

The panties were a complicated network of straps and laces and silk mesh. I laughed, grinning up at her. “I don’t even know how to get those off.”