Running From Love (16 page)

Charla Duval stood beside Trevor, which meant that Ryan Murphy was also somewhere in L.A. They’d sent flowers and called after Therese’s death, and talked of coming in for Trevor’s birthday party, but nothing had been confirmed then. Now here  was Charla, the woman who had been Poppy’s roommate during her last six months at Mesquale and who had quickly become Poppy’s best friend. The smile widened across Poppy’s face as she got closer. She waved to Charla, who returned it. Poppy climbed the small set of stairs from the sand to the deck, where Charla, with her white-blonde hair and gargantuan smile, stood. She pulled Poppy into a hug. 

“You’re here!”

“I’m only sorry it took us this long to get here.” Charla pulled back and her gaze searched Poppy’s face. “How are you doing?”

The corner of Poppy’s mouth lifted and she shrugged. “Okay.”

“Well, you look good. Well fed and rested and showered. I’m impressed.” Charla glanced toward Trevor. “But when I saw the spread he had laid out this morning for the four of us, I wasn’t surprised. Does he just hang out and cook for you all day?”

“Pretty much. Wait.”—Poppy’s gaze shifted to Trevor—“Did you know they were coming today?”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “There was talk, but weather was dicey and everything depended on getting the jet off Mesquale.”

“Don’t blame Trevor for not telling you. We wanted to surprise you, not be a cause for disappointment if the weather didn’t cooperate.” Charla wrapped an arm around Poppy’s waist. They first few raindrops fell and they walked through the sliders into the kitchen. 

“Yo, Poppy!” Ryan called from the kitchen, where he was intently making mimosas. “Not sure why I’m doing this and not that guy”—he nodded toward Trevor— “since he’s one of the best bartenders I’ve ever known.”

“Man, you worked right beside me for months before any of us knew who you really were,” Trevor joked.

Ryan walked to Poppy and pulled her into a hug. He whispered into her ear, “I’m sorry for your loss.” His eyes examined her face. Ryan understood loss at the deepest level. His fiancé and their unborn child had perished years before in a horrible car accident when Ryan had been driving. “If there’s anything you need … even just someone to sit quietly and say nothing. I can be that friend.” His smile was warm and understanding.

Poppy’s malaise seemed to lighten. She’d missed Charla, and by extension she’d missed Ryan too. Ryan had been Trevor’s roommate, and dating Charla, before he’d outed himself as the new owner of Mesquale, the Tahitian resort where they’d all worked. The four of them had spent good times together drinking and dining and sitting on the sand. 

“Thank you.” Poppy had grown better able to respond to the support that people wanted to give her. At first she’d pretended that nothing was wrong, that nothing had happened, that because Therese had been absent from her life for more than twenty years, Poppy had no anguish over the loss. She’d been lying to herself and not fooling anyone around her. She’d started to unpack the pain, but she’d also learned that in moments like this, social moments, she could tuck the idea of her loss away for perusal later.

Ryan handed her and Charla each a mimosa and Poppy curled up on the sofa. She tucked a chenille throw over her body.

“How long are you in Los Angeles?” she asked, hoping it would be for a while. She wanted her friend to be here with her to talk and just be together.

“Well, he’s got Mesquale business and we’ve got this big birthday party to go to.” Charla eyed Trevor. “Plus, I’ve got some wedding business to attend to.”

“Oh my God, that’s right! Show me, show me! I’ve only seen pictures of the ring.” Charla sat beside Poppy and held out her hand. A gargantuan rock of a diamond sparkled and on either side were two more diamonds. 

“Oh, Charla, it’s beautiful! I’m so happy for you.” Poppy pulled her friend close. “Nice work, Mr. Murphy,” she said. “I’m impressed you were able to recover so well from that fiasco of yours.”

“You say fiasco, I say best thing that ever happened to me and Mesquale.”

“How’s the planning going?” Poppy asked. Charla and Ryan weren’t waiting. Their wedding was planned for three months from now.

“Well it’s kind of easy to plan when your soon-to-be-husband owns one of the most luxurious five-star resorts in the world.” Charla smiled. “But the tough thing has been finding a dress. I thought we could look while I’m here.”

“Seriously?”

Charla nodded. “I still need to find your dress and my dress—”

“Hold up … I don’t think I actually agreed to be in this wedding.”

“Oh, you agreed,” Charla said. “By virtue of being the person who talked me into giving this guy a second chance.”

A small flush heated Poppy’s cheeks. “That was me?” Everything seemed so long ago. Those moments on the island of Mesquale, when Charla had come back and she’d seen Ryan and the two of them had finally acknowledged their love. While not so long ago, it felt like a lifetime. Since that time she’d left Trevor, left Mesquale, helped her sister, Trevor had found her, Therese had passed and now … She looked at Trevor standing beside Ryan, the two of them talking and laughing. And now what? Now Charla was here to pick out a wedding dress and go to Trevor’s birthday party and …

Poppy’s chest tightened. Her breathing grew short. She was here. With Trevor. Living with Trevor and had been for … a while. What? How had this happened? She wasn’t in Hong Kong, she wasn’t living her life. Her eyes glanced down at Charla’s ring as Charla continued to talk about the four wedding boutiques she wanted to visit in the next two days. Poppy closed her eyes. Her head … pressure like a vise around her scalp. She pressed her fingers to her forehead. No. Too much. Too, too much.

“I’m sorry, Charla, I’ll be right back.” She stood and dashed toward the stairs that lead to the master suite. She didn’t look back at her friends. She didn’t want to see them exchange of looks of concern over her abrupt exit. She could already hear the heavy silence, could imagine the whispers about what had just happened and which one of them should come check on her.

No one should come check on her. She needed to be alone. She wanted to be alone. She’d become entangled in a life that she hadn’t wanted. She’d allowed herself to get swept up with people, loads and loads of people and their emotions, and the responsibilities that came with these people and their expectations. Poppy paced in front of the wall of windows that overlooked the Pacific. Rain streaked the windows and on the other side of the glass, the ocean grew white-waved and angry.

“Babe?” Trevor stood just inside the room. “You okay? Can I get you anything?”

“You can get me my suitcase.” Poppy ran her fingertips through her hair. “Where did you put it? Are you hiding it so I can’t leave? And my passport, why don’t I have my passport—”

“Babe.” Trevor walked closer to her. “Your suitcase is right inside the garage and your passport is in your purse. You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Poppy turned on Trevor. Her jaw tightened. Anger built a furious fire in her chest. “I can’t do this Trevor, okay? I can’t do any of this. This … this Suzy Homemaker thing isn’t me. Weddings and mimosas and brunch with long-time friends? That’s not me.” She pressed her hand to her chest. Her heart beat like a hummingbird’s.

“It’s Ryan and Charla. No one expects you to be anyone you’re not. We don’t want you to be—”

“That’s just the thing. I don’t want a
we
who wants anything from me, okay? I want
me
. I want to be alone and live alone and go where I want, when I want, and not have to worry about picking out dresses or being at birthday parties on time or seeing your mother on Sundays or who is having what and where and when. Okay? I don’t want that life, I never wanted that life, and I told you that, Trevor. I told you I couldn’t have that life, that I needed my freedom. And then I came here to help and you came here and found me and then Therese died and oh my God.” Poppy sank to the floor and covered her face with her hands. “I have to leave.”

“You don’t have to leave.” Trevor’s voice was hard with a hint of ice in it. “You can leave any time you want to, Poppy, but you don’t
have
to, let’s be really clear on that. Leaving is a choice just like staying is a choice. One that we make for each other every day.”

Poppy lifted her head and her gaze locked with Trevor’s. Dogged determination lined his mouth. He was right. They were both making a choice, each day they woke up, to stay. No one forced her to remain and no one forced him either. “You’re right,” Poppy said, her voice softer. “I just … I start to feel so overwhelmed and pinned down … so I don’t know … I just—”

Trevor knelt beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. “I understand that feeling.  Where everything is already decided for you and you’ve got no choices and you feel like you’re locked into something you don’t want and nobody even asked you.” His gaze was warm and swept over her face. “I’ve felt all that since I was a kid. But being with you, I don’t feel trapped anymore. I want to be here. I want to be with you. I want to build something together. Of course we can change it or leave it and build other things, but right now, today, the choice I’m making is for you and me to be together.”

Poppy’s body tingled. She loved him. She wanted him. He kissed her, and the heat that terrified her and yet caused her to cling to him burned through her body. With his lips pressed to hers, she lay back into the lushness of the plush, soft rug. She yanked at his shirt and pulled it over his head. She needed him with a fast and furious intensity. A want so deep there was a hard ache between her legs. She wanted Trevor to fill her, to make her feel the closeness and the rightness of them together. His mouth slid down her neck and his hand trailed over her body. 

Then a thought occurred to her, and she pulled away. “What about—”

“They went to a wedding boutique in Malibu.”

And with his words any concern for their friends on the first floor slipped from Poppy’s mind. “Please. I want you. I want you so badly.”

Trevor had their clothes off in an instant. Their skin pressed together. His lips again trailed over her belly, to the slick spot between her legs that throbbed with ache and want and desire.

He parted her legs with his hands. “Baby, you’re so beautiful.” His tongue slid down her center and then his lips closed around her nub and he sucked her into his mouth. His tongue circled her clit, licking the engorged flesh. Her hips bucked upward, but Trevor’s hand held her still.

“Oh Trevor, oh my God, please,” she panted out. Her body edging along the sharp cliff of desire. His tongue stroked in a slow long circle, while his mouth sucked. His hand caressed the tight bud of her nipple. Her body tightened. Each muscle hardening in aroused pleasure.

He pulled his mouth from her sex and her hips rolled upward, unbidden and yet needing, seeking the release that his mouth would provide. His lips trailed up over her body until they were face to face. She hitched her leg around him and rolled him to his back. His hard sex was between them. She needed this, she needed him inside her, she wanted this glorious feeling of being alive. She hovered above him and the head of his hard cock edged into the tight muscles of her sex. He clasped her breast with one hand. She wanted this. She had to take him, have him deep inside her.

“You’re beautiful.” Trevor’s fingertip stroked her clit, still engorged and sensitive from his mouth. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” His touch nearly sent her over the edge. Her sex clenched and she slid the head of Trevor’s cock into her hot center.

“Poppy. God, Poppy.” Lust shadowed his face and his muscles tensed as he fought the urge to ram up into her. She slowly lowered her body down his shaft.

Trevor’s breathing shortened and the muscles in his jaw flinched. His hands clutched her hips. Her body tightened around his thick shaft.

“Fuck,” Trevor breathed out. She raised up and then slid back down. His hands grasped her breasts and he lifted up to pull her nipple deep into the needy heat of his mouth. Sucking with such intensity her sex quivered. His teeth scraped against the aroused flesh of her nipple. Poppy’s hips moved forward and back.

In this moment she felt no fear, no uncertainty, no walls closing in, no expectations she couldn’t meet. In this moment only she and Trevor and the heat between them existed. All-consuming pleasure and a deep love.

Her control was nearly gone. His fingers again found her clit and circled the sensitive flesh. She rode him harder and faster. Her head dropped backward. She grasped his thigh with one hand and rose up and down, her body now moving to a fast rhythm, their flesh slapping together. Their skin. Their flesh. She tilted her head forward to watch the spot where his hard cock met her soft flesh. Her entire body tightened at the sight.

“Oh my God Poppy, Poppy.” Trevor’s voice was thick with want. With a quick movement he flipped her onto her back so he was above her. “You’re mine, Poppy. You’re mine.” He rammed into her sex deep and hard. She pulled her legs tightly around him. Pleasure washed over them both. His eyes locked to hers, their coupling flying high into the sky, into the unlimited pleasure of this moment and what felt like forever.

*

Trevor padded across the living room floor bare-assed naked. He lit the fire and turned toward the wall of windows. This house, this space, afforded them privacy and luxury and time alone, and yet … Poppy had been nearly overwhelmed by just the talk of having to attend a birthday party and a wedding. Of course her feelings were raw from Therese’s death, and she was processing deep emotions. But he couldn’t have provided her any more stability and safety than he had over the last month, and yet she’d still wanted to run. The fire roared to life.

Trevor padded back toward the kitchen. He and Poppy wouldn’t see Ryan and Charla again today because Ryan had a business dinner tonight, and then the two of them were holing up in their hotel for a romantic evening. Of course their friends understood what had happened with Poppy today. Trevor pulled cheese and fruit and wine from the refrigerator. He was being damned supportive, and that was why her wanting to leave earlier had thrown him. He got that she was grieving, but she’d been accusatory, as though he were forcing her to stay. No one could ever force Poppy to do anything.