Meant to Be (Sweetbriar Cove #1)(43)

         
       
        

"I don't know about that," Poppy said, remembering how Mackenzie had sung his praises. "Mackenzie says you can be counted on in a crisis."

"Mackenzie says a lot of things," he replied, with all the exasperation of an old friend. "We go way back," he explained. "She's like a kid sister to me, I guess. An annoying, pushy kid sister." He paused. "Although, she can be right about some things."

His eyes caught Poppy's, and she felt herself flush. She had a feeling she knew exactly what he was talking about, but she couldn't find it in her to be annoyed at Mackenzie's blatant matchmaking.

She'd been right about them, after all.

Poppy took another sip of wine, her head already spinning in a way that had nothing to do with her drink. It was finally sinking in that she was alone with Cooper, with nothing to interrupt them this time. He went to put some music on, and she tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach, but when the slow, sultry strains of a classic Elvis Presley record began to play, and Cooper reappeared in the doorway-his smiling blue eyes fixed steadily on her-Poppy couldn't stop the heat that rolled through her body, jolting every nerve and synapse with pure desire.

Cooper crossed the room.

Poppy caught her breath. His gaze didn't waver, that playful smile on the edge of his lips as he came closer, closer, until he was standing right in front of her. Close enough to touch. He plucked her wineglass from her hand and set it on the table, then gently pressed his palm to her cheek.

"I'm glad you stopped by," he said softly.

His touch rippled through her, electric. Poppy felt like her body was humming, just to feel the warmth of his skin on hers. She wanted to reach for him, touch him, take everything she'd been fantasizing about ever since the night they kissed, but somehow she was suspended in the moment, feeling everything in slow-motion as he leaned in and grazed her lips with his.

Poppy shivered against him. Just the softest brush of his mouth was a revelation, and she swayed closer, eager to find his lips again. This time, the kiss deepened: slow and soft, his mouth exploring hers, tasting. She slid her hands up over his chest, savoring in the solid muscle as his tongue dipped between her lips, tantalizingly slow.

How could a kiss awaken every last sense like this? Poppy was overwhelmed by the feelings rushing over her: the heat from his body, the taste of wine on his tongue; the low, spicy scent of his aftershave, and her own heartbeat thundering over the music in the background. She was wrapped up in the moment, falling deeper into the kiss, and as his fingertips traced the slow outline of her jaw, something inside her let go. Free-fall.

She didn't care what came next between them. She just wanted more. 



Cooper was drunk. He'd only had a sip of wine, but there was no other explanation. Not for the way his head spun to hold her, and his heart pounded in his chest with every touch.

One taste of her, and he was gone. She was the sweetest damn sin he'd ever known.

Poppy let out a breathy sigh against his lips, and Cooper felt a shock of lust barrel through his system. Her body was soft in his arms, pressing closer, and when he surfaced, he'd never seen her look so beautiful: her eyes had drifted shut, her lips parted as if begging for more.

Happy to oblige.

He kissed her again, fighting to take it slow, but damn, his control was fraying with every touch. He parted her lips and sank his tongue deeper into her mouth, stroking against hers in a sensual dance that set the world on fire. She felt too good in his arms, her curves molding against him eagerly as she pressed closer and moaned against his mouth.

That sound was his undoing.

With a groan, Cooper grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up on the table, setting her down with a jolt. Poppy gasped in surprise, then wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him into the warmth of her body. Damn. Cooper dipped his head to kiss along the pale line of her collarbone, and Poppy shivered against his lips.

She was intoxicating. Everything was a blur besides her sweet mouth. To hell with the papers-he pushed them all aside as she looped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth back up to hers. He wanted to lay her out on the table and take her right there. Lose himself in her sweetness and never come up for air. He wanted-

SMASH.

A crashing sound pierced the haze of lust. Cooper looked up, bleary, and found their wine glasses in pieces on the floor.

"Whoops." Poppy sat up. She was flushed and breathless, and so beautiful it hurt to look at her. So he kissed her again instead, teasing along her jawline and nibbling on her earlobe.

"But . . . the glass . . ." she murmured weakly. Your feet . . ."