I steal one too. “It feels like I'm sixteen again—sneaking candy, hiding out under the stars.” I glance at him, a smile tugging at my lips. “The only thing missing is Wes stomping over here to tell us we need to stop messing around and get back to work.”
“He’s always such a killjoy.”
I snort. “He seems more at ease here,” I say. “Like he’s finally found his place. His person, too.”
Tripp nods. “Yeah, he has. Sawyer brings out the best in him, and I swear he’s softened those sharp edges of hers a bit.”
I sigh, peering up at the sky as his thumb strokes mine. “I want that, you know? That kind of day-in, day-out love. Where you make each other better. Where you can be your whole self and know the other person is doing the same. You might bicker, but at the end of the day, there’s no one else you’d rather fight with. That imperfectly perfect kind of love.”
Tripp’s hand tenses in mine. “That sounds nice.”
“Yeah, it does.” My chest squeezes, a heavy ache pressing against my ribs. I know that kind of love exists. I’ve seen it in Wes and Sawyer, in my parents too. But knowing it exists only makes me wonder if I’ll ever have it for myself.
Useless Damn Cow
Tripp
After last night, I want Quinn by my side constantly. But I’ve still got a job to do. She’s outside feeding Winston when I pull up to the ranch, and she looks up the moment I slam the truck door. A smile curves her mouth, lighting her face like she’s just as excited to see me as I am to see her.
It takes everything in me not to rush up to her and gather her in my arms while I shove my tongue down her throat.
It’s ridiculous—the absolute giddiness that hits me the second I see her. How I can’t stop thinking about her, wondering what she’s doing when I’m at my house and she’s here.
I wander over to the pen we built together, instead of heading straight to the stable to get the horses tacked up. Wes might throw a hissy fit, butI’ll deal with his grumpiness if I have to. It’ll be worth it to get to talk to Quinn this morning.
“Does he like the new digs?” I ask.
Winston is covered in mud and is happily finishing off some carrots that Quinn must have brought out as a treat for him.
“He seems happier, don’t you think?”
I watch him tromp around the enclosure now that the carrots are gone, tail wagging back and forth like a goofy-looking dog. The content snorts he makes as he roots around make me grin.
“Yeah, he does look happy out here. Let’s hope he doesn’t figure out a way to escape the pen, or that garden you’ve been working so hard on is bound to get ruined.”
She glances back toward the house, her brows knitting together in an adorable frown.
“We built this like Fort Knox. If he escapes from here, I think I’ll have to change his name to David Blaine or Criss Angel.”
I snort.
“So, last night was…” she trails off, not quite meeting my eyes, though the teasing lift of her brows tells me she’s trying to play it cool.
I give her a wide grin, my eyes tracking down her outfit this morning. Leggings cling to her like a second skin, and her cropped T-shirt shows a sliver of the smooth skin on her stomach that was covered in my cum a few hours ago.
“Yeah, it was,” I agree, readjusting my Stetson.
Last night was intense, and I wanted to make sure she got everything she needed. This was about her, after all. But even though I’m still woefully out of practice, I don’t think I can keep myself from being inside her next time.
The thought of sliding into her slick heat has me half-hard in my Wranglers, and I have to adjust myself to keep her from noticing.
She brushes her hair off her neck, sweat glinting at her collarbone, and it takes everything in me not to drag her around the back of the house and press her against the siding.
“So,” she says, a devious glint in her eye, “I think I want you to fuck me.”
God help me.
I cough, startled at her bluntness. “You think so, huh?” I raise my brows, amused at the flush tingeing her cheeks.
