I paste on a teasing grin to mask the surge of heat low in my gut. “I’m scandalized, Quinnie.”
She splashes water at me, laughing softly, but I just shake it off like a dog, sending droplets flying. A few hit her, and she wrinkles her nose, but that playful sparkle is still in her eyes.
She glides through the water to the spot right in front of me, close enough that her knees touch mine beneath the surface. Her smile turns slow and wicked.
“You gonna tell me I shouldn’t be having such inappropriate thoughts about you?”
I give her a crooked smile, the kind that I know is walking a dangerous line. I’m asking for trouble. I know it. But with Quinn this close, her eyes cloaked in a sultry haze and fixed on mine—I don’t give a damn.
“I’ve been thinking highly inappropriate things about you,” I say, voice low, “multiple times a day, every single day since you got here.”
To hell with it. I’ve never said no to Quinn before. I don’t know why I would start now... over a kinky bucket list of all things.
I guess I’ll let myself slide down the slope after all.
Atta Fucking Girl
Quinn
My stomach flutters as his gaze flicks down to my mouth. The joking tilt to his features fades, replaced by desire, and I find myself caught in the weight of it—fascinated by the stark hunger I find lurking behind his teasing.
The way he’s looking at me is like a lure, pulling me toward him. My body moves forward without a second thought as he keeps talking.
“Those shorts you wore the other day while you were gardening?” he says, voice low and rough. “Pure torture. I was half-hard all fucking day. The second I got home, I fucked my fist to thoughts of you in those tiny things and I still couldn’t get you out of my head.”
My breath catches in my throat.
“So, I went to the bar to clear my head... and what did I find? You dancing on the bar, looking like a fucking wet dream. I wanted you then and there. Hell, so did every other man in that bar.”
He shakes his head, jaw tight.
“And then after what you told me in the back of my truck?” He leans toward me, his voice a rumbling whisper. “Quinn, I swear to God if you were sober, I would have fucked you right there and made sure you left satisfied.”
Jesus Christ.
Why was hearing exactly what had been going through his head so insanely hot?
His knees are spread, and I step between them. My body humming, my chest tight—I want to close the little distance between us—to finally know what it feels like to be touched by someone like Tripp Matthews.
I’m trapped in the liquid heat of his gaze, rooted to the spot, unable to move anywhere but forward. My knees bump the edge of the seat as I take another step closer.
My heart kicks up in my chest as his eyes rake over me, slow and hungry, making my nipples tighten beneath the thin fabric of my bikini where his gaze catches and lingers. A slow, devilish smirk curves his mouth before his hand slides to my hip, fingers pressing into my skin as he pulls me onto his lap.
He exhales, the sound rough and tinged with anticipation. “Fuck it.”
His lips brush across mine tentatively, like he’s tasting a new flavor for the first time. It’s a wicked tease of what I really want, gentle and achingly sweet.
He pulls back too soon, his forehead resting on mine as his thumb draws slow circles on my hip. The air between us hums—charged with longing, and the moment stretches, thick with tension.
His fingers glide over my spine and my pulse thrums in my throat as we breathe the same air. His breath is laced with the scent of beer—dark and heady as sin. It shouldn’t be this hot, but God help me, I’m completely intoxicated, aching for more of him after just one taste.
I shift, my knee sliding against his cock. He’s already hard, and we’ve barely even touched. The realization that I did this to him drags a tortured whimper from my throat.
Tripp tenses, reacting instantly to the sound. “I want to make you come, Quinn.” His voice is a wrecked whisper, like his restraint is hanging by a thread as he slides me further into his lap until I’m straddling him. One hand cradles my jaw, angling my face to his.
And then his mouth is on mine, setting a spark alight.
This kiss isn't tentative—it’s confident and sure and all-consuming. I’m completely obliterated by the way his lips claim mine. God, I’ve dreamed about this moment, and it’s better than I ever imagined it could be.
