I scrambled up from the couch, probably resembling something from a cartoon. I’d barely unlatched the door before it was pushed open.
Sure enough, Tripp was actually there.
In my building.
At my apartment.
In the hall with a baseball hat pulled low on his head.
Again, like a cartoon character, my tongue wanted to unfurl as steam shot from my ears. I had no clue a man could look soungodly hot in a baseball hat—much less one that was facing forward not backward—yet there we were. I only got a brief glimpse of it before the hat was tossed carelessly to my floor.
The hotness was nearly enough to distract me, but common sense with more than a little fear won out. It was two days before Christmas, and most people were gone, but not everyone. “What’re you doing here? What if someone sees?—”
My words were cut off. My fear was extinguished. And every ounce of common sense left my body when he gripped my head and kissed me.
Brutally.
Frantically.
It was far from the first time we’d kissed, but there was something different about it that I didn’t understand. Keeping the connection, he backed me into the apartment, kicking the door closed behind us. He didn’t stop until my ass was jabbed against the edge of the little table in my kitchen, and even then, he simply lifted me onto it before positioning himself between my thighs that he forced open.
One of his hands speared into the underside of my messy bun before his fingers closed into a tight fist that tugged the strands. His other gripped my jaw, tilting my head up. He kept kissing me between words as he bit out, “I got your texts.”
“I saw,” I said. He dropped his face into my neck to lick the skin there, and it was nearly enough to make me lose my train of thought.
“Sped the whole way here,” he added, explaining how he’d gotten there so fast.
“You don’t speed,” I pointed out.
“Not with you in the car.”
“You shouldn’t do it with you in the car, either.” My chiding probably would’ve been more effective if it wasn’t undercut with moans and the desperate roaming of my hands on the back of his head.
“Noted.” I didn’t know if that was an attempt to shut me up, but it didn’t matter because he stole my ability to say anything more with another bruising kiss. If that wasn’t already enough, he rocked against my core. With only my pajama pants and his track pants in the way, there was no stiff denim to restrain his hardness or dull the sensation. I clutched his shirt in an attempt to somehow remove it without having to separate our mouths.
His movements were just as frenzied, shifting the table until the bottle of tequila fell from it to shatter on my floor. He tore his mouth away with a violent curse and looked at the boozy carnage. “How much of that have you had?”
“None.”
“Thank fuck.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
WE GUESS THERE WON’T BE A REPEAT OF THE NEPO BABY TACKLING ANY HOLIDAY DISPLAYS THIS YEAR. DISAPPOINTING.
GREER
Ididn’t get the chanceto ask Tripp what he meant before I was suddenly lifted. His large hand spanned my ass even as I instinctively wrapped my arms and legs around him. He took a few steps toward my hall, and I hurriedly directed, “To the left.”
When we reached my room, he moved straight to the bed. He didn’t set me on my feet or release me. He kept his secure hold as he lowered me to the mattress and followed me so his body covered mine. He kissed me before sliding down to nip and tease my neck, my chest, and back up again, all while keeping his body close to mine.
It was good.
Sogood.
I didn’t want to lose that connection, either.
But I wanted him naked.
