I glance up and meet Pops’ gaze across the table. He chews slowly, bushy gray eyebrows pulled together, like he’s puzzling something out in his head.
My stomach flips and I grip Tripp’s hand, forcing him to stop his slow trek up my thigh.
Pops looks between me and Tripp, then back at his plate.
“Hmph.”
I have no idea what that sound means. No clue why he was looking at us like that, but it puts me on edge.
“Relax,” Tripp murmurs under his breath as Sawyer and Wes start bickering about something.
Right. Think Zen thoughts. I’m cool as a cucumber.
I shove another bite of fajita in my mouth and pretend my heart isn’t about to beat out of my chest as we finish the meal.
Cute? More Like Insane
Tripp
I’m dying to touch you again.
Today was torture.
Quinnie
I know. Edging was not on my list.
Are you touching yourself right now?
Not yet.
But now I’m thinking about number five.
I’ve memorized that kinky bucket list she finally gave me.
Number five: Get myself off while youwatch.
And fuck, it sounds like pure torture—but the best kind.
I’ll be there in five minutes.
You’re gonna wake up Pops
I can be quiet...
But I’m not so sure you can.
Just text me when you get here.
I sprint down the stairs and grab the bag I prepped earlier and my keys from the counter. I’m out the door in under thirty seconds. All I want is to be near her—to see her, watch her.
Within minutes I'm pulling down the drive to Dawson Ranch, hoping Pops doesn’t wake up and ask why I’m here. I’m not sure I’ll be able to come up with a good answer, especially with my dick already straining against my jeans.
My balls have been aching since today in the mud. Her body sliding against mine—hot and slippery. I’m desperate to touch her again.
For old time's sake, I do something incredibly stupid and climb the tree beside her window. The trunk’s still slick from last night’s rain, and it’s definitely more difficult than I remember. But I manage, inching across the limb that stretches out over the porch roof.
It’s probably the dumbest thing I’ve done in years.
