Because we were already friends.
Because he already knew me.
We finally peel ourselves off the chair and make our way to the bathroom, skin sticky with sweat and tequila. His fingers thread through mine as he leads me up the large staircase.
The second floor has the same feel as the first. Exposed wood beams, warm colors, and a homey atmosphere that makes me want to curl up and stay right here forever.
Steam fills the bathroom as I step into the warm water, letting it rinse over me. Tripp follows me in, his big hands gliding over my back and shoulders as he reaches for the soap.
For a while, neither of us says anything, the only sound the rush of water against tile. But the question has been sitting heavy on my tongue since last night.
“Can I ask you something?” I say, turning to face him.
He smiles at me, his body covered in suds. “Shoot.”
I step out of the spray of water. “You said before it’s been a long time since you’ve had sex, right?”
He runs a hand through his wet hair, water dripping down his chest. “Yeah. It’s been about five years.”
My eyes widen. “Why?”
He exhales slowly, then shrugs. “It was a promise I made my dad before he died. He didn’t want me to keep chasing meaningless sex. I think he was scared that when he was gone, I wouldn’t have anyone left but Mom and Allie.”
“And you never broke the promise until now?”
His gaze lifts to meet mine, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “No. I never broke it.”
My stomach twists, suddenly unsure. “Are you okay with what we’re doing? When I asked you to—” I gesture vaguely—“I didn’t know you’d made that promise.”
Tripp had always been the king of casual. I figured he’d be up for a little fun while I was here. But now guilt coils in my chest—tight and sharp—like I’ve made him break something sacred. Like I pulled him away from a vow to a man he loved and lost.
He tilts his head, considering.
“This feels different from what I did back on the rodeo circuit. It’s not some selfish town-to-town kind of thing. I’m not sleeping around, and I’m not going to. What we’re doing—it’s about you.
“I’m happy doing this. With you. And if this is what you need to figure yourself out, then I’ll keep doing it. I’ll fuck you until the end of time, Quinnie. Happily.”
The way he says it is so matter of fact, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
No games.
No pressure.
Just Tripp—steady and solid and exactly what I need right now. He’s giving me something I didn’t even know I’d been craving—an acceptance that feels like devotion, reverent and grounding. My chest squeezes, tight with something warm and overwhelming.
I exhale a breath that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Only you would follow up a sweet sentiment with a horny afterthought.”
His grin is completely unapologetic. “You love my horny side.”
“I do,” I say, brushing my fingers over the sharp line of his jaw. “I really do.”
Then I kiss him—slow and unhurried.
The slide of water between us reminds me of the tequila. Of how he made me feel mere minutes ago.
My pulse ratchets up in my chest, and my breathing quickens as he kisses me deeper, tongue sliding across mine like we didn’t just come together in his living room.
Water pours between us, gliding across heated skin. I run my hands down his slick chest as he reaches above me for the detachable showerhead. The spray disappears—and then returns, teasing down my spine before curling around to my stomach.
