My thumb falls to the button of his jeans just as he slides his hand down the back of mine. He grips my ass, groaning into my mouth, just as desperate and greedy as I am. I can feel the hard press of him through soaked denim.
His hips roll into mine, fingers skimming the waistband of my underwear.
“Hey, did y’all get him back in?” Wes’ voice cuts through the barn.
Tripp jolts away from me like he’s been burned, and my heart goes into my throat.
“Yeah,” Tripp croaks. “We got him.”
Wes walks in, holding a short metal chain that clinks in his hands. “Here. You can use this to lock him in so he doesn’t get out again.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, unable to meet his eyes.
Tripp grabs the chain and loops it around the gate, locking it in place.
“Sawyer’s got supper going,” Wes adds. “You should clean up a bit. You’re both filthy.”
I swipe at my mouth with the back of my hand, suddenly too aware of how flushed and disheveled I must look.
Tripp glances at me, his lips twitching with barely contained amusement.
“Sure,” he says, voice low. “We’ll do that.”
If only Wes knew how filthy we really were.
A Little Danger
Tripp
My heart has finally settled from its rampant beating in the barn. Quinn is showering while I use Wes’ old room to clean up. The thought of her wet and naked in the room right next to mine is almost too tempting to resist, but we’ve probably pushed our luck enough for one day.
I tug on a clean shirt, forcing my thoughts into safer territory. I will my pulse to slow, convincing myself I can behave during dinner, that I can wait several hours or possibly days to touch her again.
The bedroom door clicks open, and Quinn sneaks inside in nothing but a towel, flipping the lock with a coy smile on her lips.
I raise my brows at her, my heart kicking up in my chest once more. “What do you think you’re doing, Quinnie?”
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “I can’t wait until later,” she says simply, eyes flicking down to where I’m already hard for her. “I want you now.”
The way her eyes track down my bare chest to the waistband of my underwear tells me exactly what she came in here for.
I cup my dick over the fabric of my boxers. “Is this what you want, honey?” My voice is a rumbling whisper.
She nods eagerly.
I cock my head to the side. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
Her smirk is fucking devious. “I don’t think you’ll last very long with my mouth on your cock anyway.”
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
I’ve never wanted a woman’s mouth on me so much in my life. But there’s a whole house full of people waiting downstairs, and getting caught would be a goddamn disaster.
She must see my uncertainty because she doubles down. “Please?” Her blue eyes plead with me, and I’m a puddle in her hands.
How the fuck can I say no to that? Even with the risk of someone walking in and finding her on her knees for me. She knows it’s dangerous, but I’m starting to think this good girl likes a little danger.
The way I want Quinn Dawson is all-consuming. It’s impossible to see reason and rationality when she’s standing in front of me in nothing but a towel, skin still damp from her shower.
