Forever Starts Tonight (Wilder Family #4)

Chapter 30

Jax

The absolute worst thing about working with Rob and Dipshit were the stupid words they used, and how quickly they’d been burned into my brain. Tonight’s word of choice?

Simp.

I had to google it when they used it the first time because they both thought it was so fucking funny. So in the safety of my truck, without their nosy asses anywhere close by, I tapped my big thumbs on the too-small screen of my phone.

Simp: to show excessive devotion, or longing, for someone or something.

With a small grocery bag clutched in my hand, letter shoved into the back pocket of my jeans and hair damp from the walk from where I’d parked, I knocked on Poppy’s door. She didn’t answer right away, but I knew she was up. There were lights on inside when I drove by before parking next to the garage.

The porch light flipped on, then the sound of the dead bolt disengaged. When she cracked the door open, it was her widened eyes that had me thinking about that fucking word again.

“Jax?” she asked. “What are you doing here? ”

The honest answer threatened to bolt from the tip of my tongue.

Simping . I was fucking simping . And even if someone paid me a million dollars, I’d never admit that I used that word, even in my own thoughts.

But God, it felt right. Being here, simply because I was thinking about her, wanting to be near her, it felt so fucking right. I was pretty sure I’d fall to my knees if she asked, and do it with a smile on my face.

Hadn’t she earned that after all this time?

Instead of saying any of that, I held the bag out without a word and waited for her to take it. The door opened more fully, and damn if I didn’t devour the sight of her like this.

She was in a soft-pink pajama set, a tank top tight over her chest and belly, short shorts riding high on her legs, and fuzzy pink slippers covering her feet. Poppy was wearing a bra, but not much of one, and through the pastel cotton, I could see the slightest shadow of her nipples. I tore my eyes away, fixing them instead on her face as she studied the bag like it might explode if she touched it.

“It’s not going to bite,” I told her wryly.

A crack of thunder made her tense, and her eyes pinched shut as she set a hand on her chest and laughed under her breath. “Sorry, the storm has me jumpier than I thought.”

“I thought you might be.” The words came out lower than intended, a slightly desperate edge making my voice husky like I’d chewed nails on my ride over.

Her brow furrowed delicately as she studied me, then slowly reached out for the bag gripped in my hand. Her fingers brushed over mine, and she swallowed visibly before opening it up.

Poppy’s mouth fell open as she stared down into the bag. “How did you…?” She shook her head a little. “How did you know?”

“You told me. ”

Her eyes snapped up to mine. “I did?”

I nodded. “When you got to my house that night.” I cleared my throat. “You told me about you and your dad and storms.” The edge of her white teeth dug into her lush, pink bottom lip as she stared up at me. “I didn’t want…” I paused, trying to figure out how to say it. “I hated the thought of you sitting here alone when it started storming.”

The words didn’t come easily, but I said them instead of locking them up or holding them back. Each step forward felt a little bit less scary.

“So you drove in the middle of a storm to bring me ice cream,” she said slowly, like she was trying to understand exactly what was happening.

With a tight jaw and an ache in my throat, I managed a nod.

Poppy’s eyes were huge in her face, searching mine so deeply that it dissolved that ache, melting it away bit by bit by bit.

“Will you come in and have some with me?” she asked, chin tilted and gaze direct.

I think she expected me to say no. That I was just dropping it off, and I’d retreat behind the safety of our established lines.

I took a step closer, and she sucked in a sharp breath at my nearness. “I’d love to,” I said roughly.

Poppy’s eyelids fluttered slightly as she backed up, a tiny shake of her head like she couldn’t quite get her bearings.

I left my boots by the front door, and I followed her into the house, breathing in the scent of her that already lingered in the air. The couch and chairs faced the flickering TV over the mantel, and the fuzzy blanket tucked in the corner told me where Poppy’s favorite seat was. Behind one of the chairs, she had a soft lamp on, which cast a warm light over the room. She’d lit a candle in the kitchen—something clean and citrusy. Boxes were still stacked in the dining room behind the circular table, but the house already looked like a home.

In one day, she’d managed to fill the space with some inviting energy that I’d been unable to master in the twelve years I’d been in my place.

Poppy set down the bag and pulled open the drawer in front of her, laughing quietly when she had to open the one next to it. “Still don’t know where my silverware is,” she said, handing me a spoon. She fished a couple of bowls from the cabinet to the left of the sink, and as she reached up to grab them, I couldn’t stop myself from admiring the curve of her backside in the shorts, the lean length of her legs. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun at the nape of her neck, tendrils of dark hair around her face and shoulders.

“What sounds good?” she asked, eyes locked on the two containers of ice cream.

You. I’ll take you on the counter.

Roughly, I swallowed, tapping the top of the cookie dough. “That one, please.”

“I should have known,” she said lightly. “The one with cookies in it.”

“You know, I never thought I could be turned off from cookies, but Ivy came really close to proving me wrong.”

Poppy exhaled a laugh, shaking her head as she pried the top off the first container. Using an ice cream scoop with a mint-green handle, she dished up a couple of scoops into a bowl and pushed it toward me, sucking a small spot of ice cream off her thumb.

There was no tearing my eyes away from that mouth.

As she dished up the chocolate into a second bowl, I noticed her rotating her ankle with a slight grimace on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

Her eyebrows popped up. “Oh, nothing. My feet just hurt from moving this weekend. I didn’t wear the right shoes to work, and I was in the warehouse more than usual today. We had drama with some of the new software, which was messing up all the shipping processes.”

Dropping a spoon into each bowl, then setting the ice cream scoop into the sink, Poppy turned to put the ice cream into the freezer. I stepped back to let her lead the way.

The lightning flashed bright in the room, illuminating her profile as she tucked herself into the corner of the couch. In the dim light of the room, her eyes were liquid and dark, leveled right at me while she tried to gauge what was happening. I fought the urge to blurt everything out, but deep in my gut, I knew letting it unfold slowly was better.

“Do you want to start a movie?” she asked, pulling the blanket up over her legs, covering most of her chest as well. Which was good for my sanity, if I was being honest.

I shrugged between bites of ice cream. “I’m not the one with control of the remote. That’s you, boss,” I pointed out.

Her lips curled around the spoon, which she aimed at me after she cleaned it off. “That is a new nickname I can get behind.”

I held her gaze. “You’d miss it if I stopped calling you angel.”

The low timbre of my voice had her blinking rapidly, and she dropped her eyes, taking another bite of the ice cream. When she glanced up again, she watched me with a curious twist to her lips. Thunder rumbled outside, but the sound was farther away, the storm moving past us slowly. The rain hadn’t abated yet, and the consistent pattering on the windows made the room seem smaller and more intimate than it would have been during the day.

“You left without saying goodbye on Saturday.”

Ice cream gone, I set my bowl down and hummed, stretching my arm along the back of the couch, leveling my gaze to hers steadily. “I did.”

“Even Cameron didn’t know you’d left. ”

“Your brother is really dramatic when he feels left out.”

She laughed. “I just wish I could’ve thanked you for all your help.”

I dropped my hand, nudging her knee where it was tucked up against the couch underneath the blanket. “I’m right here.”

Poppy ducked her face down, drawing up an edge of the blanket to cover her mouth. Which was a fucking shame because I could stare at her lips all day.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, playing with the edge of the blanket with the tips of her fingers. “We got so much done. I still can’t believe it.” Then she groaned. “My feet do, though. It’s been a couple of days, and they still hurt.”

Knowing full well it was a bad fucking idea and might derail my entire plan, I slid my hand down and tapped her ankle.

Her brows furrowed. “What?”

I angled one leg toward the back of the couch and settled one of the eighteen throw pillows in my lap, easing her legs forward until her heels rested on the pillow. Carefully, I pulled the first slipper off and tossed it onto the floor, followed by the second.

The room was so quiet, I could hear the thud of my heart in my ears. Maybe she could too.

“Jax, no, you don’t have to,” she started, then stopped when my thumbs dug into the arch of her foot, her head lolling back onto the couch with a groan. “Never mind,” she moaned. “Keep … keep doing that, please.”

My lips curled into a faint smile, and I pressed my fingers in deeper, pushing along the ball of her foot. I used both hands on one foot for a few minutes, watching the flickering reactions on her face when I’d hit a particularly tender spot.

The silence in the room was punctuated by her slight shifting on the couch, and she sucked in a breath when I moved to the other foot, dragging both thumbs down the arch .

“Oh,” she breathed. “That’s good.” Poppy rolled her lips between her teeth, like she was trying to keep her reactions quiet, and I questioned the sanity of telling her to stop doing that, stop holding it in. Telling her I wanted to hear everything.

I clenched my teeth and pushed my thumbs back up, pressing into the balls of her foot, rolling in small circles to relieve the tension. Or that tension, at least.

The other one would have to wait.

I was hard as a fucking rock from touching her feet. Months without sex would do that to a guy, apparently. Or maybe it was just because it was Poppy. Because I was in so deep and no desire to be anywhere else.

I wrapped my palm over the top of her ankle to hold her leg in place, and the moment my fingers brushed over her ankle bone, I noticed the shift in her breathing. The blanket shifted down, and my mouth went dry at the curves on display.

“I have an idea,” I said evenly, dragging my thumbs firmly down her arch again, using pressure from where I held the top of her foot, watching the rise and fall of her chest.

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, almost unable to lift her lashes.

“We should play a game.”

Her eyes snapped open, her whole body going still. “What?” Poppy pulled her feet back toward her as she sat up, the blanket pooling in her lap. “What game?”

The storm outside had nothing on us, because when I shifted forward, stretching my arm out along the back of the couch, the tips of my fingers brushed against the wild mess of her hair and that slight touch felt like it rocked the foundations of the entire house. With my thumb and forefinger, I tested the silky softness of the strands and hummed quietly.

Waiting until she fixed her slightly unfocused gaze back onto mine, I breathed in the heady sensation of electricity that bounced back and forth between me and her.

Lightning bolts.

Dangerous and wild, highly unpredictable. I wanted to absorb it into my skin and let it ratchet up this moment between us.

Intensity rolled between us, sprawling across the room, a slight crackle in the air that I could feel over my skin.

Do something, I thought. Do the scary thing.

So I did.

“Truth or dare,” I said simply, winding that tiny piece of hair around my finger, then letting it fall. “I’ll go first.”