Page 42 of Halloween Town

They were so close that their breath mingled. Thom dipped his head to speak in her ear, his breath ruffling her hair. “Do you want to go inside the theatre itself? You haven’t seen it since it was renovated, and it’s a lot quieter in there.”

She could say no, she should say no—being alone with Thom was dangerous for so many reasons—but Poppy nodded before she could talk or think her way out of it. Thom lightly gripped her wrist and led her toward the open doors of the theater itself. In front of them, rows and rows of velvet-covered seats stretched out toward the wooden stage, glowing in the light spilling in from the lobby. It was a lot quieter in here, and darker. Thom closed the double doors behind them and, instead of heading for the stage—impressive with its super high, deep green, velvet curtains—he veered left and led her down the back row of the theater. When they reached the end of the row, a door slammed from somewhere deep inside the theater, the noise coming from behind the stage. The lights within the sconces, high above their heads, flickered.

“Ghosts?” she asked, because it had been that type of night.

Thom’s lips curved. “I don’t believe in ghosts,” he told her. “But if there are any around, then they can all just fuck off.”

Poppy released a shaky laugh.

“There are only two people who matter right now, and that’s you and me,” Thom added.

His words resonated because being here was a choice. They were here together because it mattered; they mattered. Whatever was bubbling between them mattered. They hadn’t been forced in here, or manipulated. She was here by her own free will.

And she was staying.

Thom moved closer to her, and she felt the wall behind her back, grateful for its coolness as Thom radiated heat. He lifted his hand, and Poppy wondered where he’d touch her, but his hand hovered above her sticker, not touching the fabric of her shirt.

She grimaced, and Thom, being Thom, instantly noticed. “Does it bother you?”

She could brush it off and tell him that she was fine, that it was a gimmick but, because she needed a moment to find the courage to admit out loud that the sticker was a thorn in her emotional flesh, she hesitated before answering him. “Mmm, it does.”

Thom nodded, and she inhaled his delicious scent, something woody but with a hint of the sea. The urge to put her nose to his neck and nuzzle him was so strong that she had to close her eyes and breathe deeply.

“Open your eyes for me, sweetheart.”

Poppy’s breath caught at the expression on his face. It was similar to the way he used to look at her when they were kids, empathy and understanding, the smallest hint of exasperation. But underpinned now with delicious heat. “Can I?”

What was he asking? Could he kiss her? Rush her home and take her to bed? Before she could ask, and before she made a fool of herself, he tapped the sticker with his index finger. “Can I take it off?”

Oh…

She nodded, disappointed, though her mind was elsewhere. Thoughts of his big, muscled body pressed against hers, of his lips tracing her skin, sliding lower … sliding into her, completing her—had eclipsed the damn sticker entirely. All she wanted now was to be seen.

But naked. By him. And she didn’t care that she was newly single, only recently out of a relationship. She wanted this man.

She’d wanted him from the moment she’d first laid eyes on him again.

Thom tapped the sticker again, and she sighed, a little pissed off, a lot frustrated. Thom carefully peeled the sticker from her shirt, his movements unrushed, his fingers brushing the fabric.

“Same old Poppy, so impatient,” he murmured as he pulled aside her shirt to touch her bare skin. “But so very lovely.” He stroked her skin, igniting baby fireworks. Not wanting to be left behind, Poppy lifted her hand to remove his sticker, allowed it to flutter to the floor, and echoed his movements, moving aside his shirt to stroke her thumb over the V of bare skin. Thom’s breath hitched as their hands bumped, and he covered hers with his, squeezing gently.

“I see you, Poppy,” he said, his voice a quiet rumble. “I always did.”

She nodded. “I know. But wanting to be seen is dangerous.”

“Not by me. But if it helps, being emotionally guarded doesn’t always keep you safe; it keeps you alone.” Thom swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. Instinctively, Poppy stood on her tiptoes and kissed that masculine bump.

She dropped back down, her hand still in his. The silence between them lengthened and stretched, thick and charged and completely honest. Thom waited, leaving it up to her, giving her space, giving her grace. She could fall into his arms, or she could walk away, and there would only be acceptance and no judgment. There was freedom in that, and it made her bold. “Just for now, just here…” she whispered. “But no promises.”

“Got it,” he rumbled back, still making no move to touch her. Stepping sideways, Poppy fumbled for the lifted seat closest to her.

Thom cocked an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” he asked.

She gestured to the seat. “I was going to stand on the seat to, you know…” she blushed, her words fading. God, she sounded so stupid. “You’re tall, I’m not,” she muttered.

Thom nodded. “True. But I have a solution for that.” Without warning, his arm banded around her waist, and he lifted her up and held him against him, their faces perfectly aligned. “Problem solved.”

Poppy couldn’t resist the urge to skim the pad of her thumb over his surprisingly full bottom lip.