Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Jack stands, too, all six-and-a-half feet of him, and blocks my path with a single step. “Don’t worry about that.” He smiles down at me. “It’ll take me five minutes to clean this up. Let me walk you to your place.”
I almost refuse out of politeness, but honestly, I want to spend as much time with him as possible, even if it’s only the elevator ride down to my apartment.
He helps me gather my things, and I realize I don’t want to leave. “Thanks for dinner.”
He’s so close I can see the faint dimple in his cheek. “You’re welcome. And Poppy?”
I stop, keys in hand. “Yeah?”
He leans down, just enough so I have to tilt my chin up to meet his gaze. “I feel like Pepper and I owe you more than just one dinner to make up for your imprisonment. Would you be available for dinner tomorrow night? This time I’ll take you out for an actual date.”
For a second, I forget how words work. “I… I’m busy.” His eyes darken, and for some reason, I rush on to explain. “I have to study for another test. But maybe… Friday?”
His mouth curves, soft and slow. “It’s a date.” My knees go weak when he says it. The way Jack fills the space between us, all heat and intensity and tailored suit, makes it impossible to remember why I need to leave at all. I try to mentally replay my study checklist, but all I can focus on is the way his dark eyes follow my every move like he’s memorizing the moment.
He insists on walking me to my apartment, and I don’t argue since it gives me the chance to spend a little bit longer with him. He carries my work tote in one hand and holds my hand with the other. We stop outside my door, and my mind is mush. It takes all my brain power to figure out I need to unlock the door.
I fumble with my keys and somehow manage to get the dang door unlocked, then I turn to smile at him. “Thanks for—” His lips cover mine and I nearly self-combust. Holy. Shit. It’s not a polite, see-you-later peck, either. It’s deep and hungry and possessive.
My eyes roll back in my head as his warm lips move over mine. His mouth is possessive and hot and, oh my God, I can’t breathe. Jack’s hands bracket my face, big and careful, even though his kiss is the total opposite of gentle. He kisses me like he’s about to devour me, and my spine liquefies. My knees officially give out. If it weren’t for his massive hands holding my face, I’d be a puddle on the hallway carpet.
I gasp and he takes full advantage, tongue sliding in, tasting, claiming. All the air whooshes out of my lungs. He kisses like a man who’s made up his mind, and holy crap, I think I’m done for. The first brush of his tongue against mine lights me up like a Christmas tree. Sparks. Actual, literal sparks.
When he finally pulls back, I’m clutching his jacket like a lifeline. His thumb brushes my cheek. “Goodnight, Poppy.”
“Goodnight, Jack,” I whisper, but it comes out all wobbly and breathless, like maybe he knocked every syllable out of me with one kiss.
I step into my apartment and close the door before I’m tempted to drag the hot detective inside with me.
CHAPTER FOUR
JACK
It’s Friday morning and I’m at my desk at the precinct, staring at the same line of text in my case notes for at least the twelfth time. I keep telling myself to focus, but my brain doesn’t give a damn. All it wants to do is replay every second of the night I met Poppy.
I rub the bridge of my nose and scroll back to the crime scene photos in front of me, but all I see is Poppy—her wide, brown eyes, her flushed cheeks, the way she bit her plump bottom lip nervously. She’s officially imbedded into every neuron in my head. I don’t know how this happened, or why it happened so fast. I’ve never wanted anyone this badly.
It isn’t just that she’s beautiful. She’s real. Poppy’s smart, scrappy, stubborn as hell, and laughs in a way that makes my chest ache. Even after spending the afternoon locked in my bathroom, she was a total knockout. It’s insane how much I can’t get her out of my head.
Every time I look at my phone, I hope there’s a new message from her.
I shake myself and force my eyes back to the screen. Nothing sticks. The details of the case smear together into one big blur of blood spatter, time-of-death estimates, and witness statements I can’t even concentrate on. I’m supposed to be prepping for a meeting with the ADA this afternoon, but I haven’t accomplished jack shit.