I groan. “Don’t let it go to your head, Casanova.”
A rich grumble rattles in his throat. “Later,” he says, “I’m gonna make you come so hard that you see stars.”
And with that promise, he bounds off the porch and gets in his truck, lips curved in a devilish grin.
At supper, Sawyer informs everyone Pops will come home from the nursing home next week. I try to concentrate on making a mental list of everything I can do to make Pops' homecoming a smooth transition, but it’s hard to focus when Tripp is sitting so close.
His arm brushes mine while Sawyer and Wes talk about all the progress being made on the ranch. I shift in my seat, trying not to think about how hot and hard Tripp felt pressed up against me while we made out on the porch.
Luckily, supper isn’t a long, drawn-out affair. We’ve all been running around like crazy trying to get things done, and tomorrow will be just as busy. After helping clear the plates, Tripp and I say our goodbyes and slowly walk toward the driveway.
“You have a copy of that naughty little bucket list of yours for me yet?” he asks, voice low and teasing.
I fight a smile. “No.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. Idohave a list, but it still feels weird spilling all my dirty desires to anyone. Even Tripp.
“Are you gonna need some tequila to loosen that tongue so you can tell me all the depraved things you dream about doing with me?”
I glance back at the house instinctively, heart thudding, like Wes somehow heard that.
“Probably,” I murmur.
I’ve never spoken so openly with anyone about sex. I’m not used to it. And while I feel safe with Tripp and trust him wholeheartedly, part of me is still unsure of how to voice my desires.
“Come over.” He moves toward me, but his eyes flick to the house and he steps back again, like he doesn’t trust himself not to touch me if he gets any closer. “I want to make you come again.”
“Okay,” I say a little breathlessly.
He hops in his truck with a cocky smile, and I climb into my car, following him down the long gravel driveway. My fingers tighten on the steering wheel as I replay what he just said.
I want to make you come again.
By the time we pull up to his house, my whole body is on edge, humming in anticipation.
When we get inside, he wastes no time pulling out a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses. He fills them both before handing me one and clinking it with his.
“To kinky bucket lists,” he says, knocking it back in one smooth motion.
I toss mine back and swallow as it burns its way down my throat.
He steps closer, his hands already gripping my hips as he backs me against the kitchen island—like he can’t keep himself from touching me a single second longer.
“Tell me what you want to try, Quinnie.”
He leans in, tequila still lingering on his breath, arms bracketing me in.
“Everything,” I whisper, a gentle buzz warming my skin.
He gives me a crooked grin. “I'm a little rusty. Everything might overwhelm me. Maybe we should start slow.”
I want to feel dirty and raw and out of control with need. I want to stop thinking and just let myselfwant. But I’m not sure how to tell him all that.
So I swallow hard and nod.
“Tell me one thing you want tonight.”
