I kept calling out to Tripp as I slowly made my way through the second floor. I tentatively peered into each open doorwayI passed, unsure what I would find but knowing to my soul I wouldn’t want to see too much of it.
Shockingly, all of them were empty—including the one that was obviously his bedroom. There was a heavy-duty electrical lock on the door, but like the one on the front door, it didn’t do much good if it wasn’t armed.
Unlike the rest of the house, his space was not a barren wasteland of off-white, gleaming marble, and cold tile. It was decorated in dark woods, cool grays, and deep teals. There were more discarded clothes dotted around the floor and on the plush bench in front of his oversized bed.
I’m beginning to suspect Tripp might be a nudist who has never heard of a hamper…
I did another sweep for a passed-out body before my eyes caught on the opposite wall.
Only it wasn’t a wall at all.
More floor-to-ceiling windows showed off a balcony and a gorgeous view beyond it.
I took a step into the room before I could catch myself, wanting nothing more than to sit on that balcony to take in the view that I bet went to waste more than it should. Since that was an invasion of my boss’s privacy—a boss I still needed to confirm was alive and breathing—I hurriedly retreated to the hallway to resume my search.
I was running out of doors when I reached what I assumed was a guest room. Unlike most of the others, there was at least a bed and some furniture. Ugly furniture that I bet was expensive despite the fact it looked useless, soulless, and insanelybreakable. Or maybe not. Maybe it was the best stuff around. I had no clue, and I lost all interest—and thought—when I stepped in to see Tripp asleep in bed.
Asleep andnaked.
On his stomach, a blanket just barely covered his ass. His muscular legs were exposed to show a perfect amount of dark hair. I hadn’t been aware there was a perfect amount of leg hair a man could have, yet there we were. Even in sleep, his back seemed tense and flexed. As did the small bit of his face that I could see with his arm in the way.
Should I leave? Wake him? Throw something at his head and hope for the best?
I checked the en suite to make sure there wasn’t a terrified companion holed up there calling the cops at my intrusion on their good time, but it was empty.
With a reluctance that had me doubting every step, I tiptoed toward the bed, gently reached out, and nudged Tripp’s shoulder before jolting back in case he smacked me like Maddie did when I woke her.
He didn’t.
He didn’t even stir.
I tried again, garnering the same result.
Well, he’s breathing.
But I’m still not so sure he’s alive.
Being less gentle, I shoved his shoulder hard and added a firm, “Tripp.”
That did it.
Gray eyes going wide, Tripp pushed up onto an elbow and tilted his head to blink at me. His hair was in complete disarray and dark stubble covered his etched jaw. I braced for him to yell at my intrusion, but it never came. Instead, a lazy smile split his face as he pushed his hair back. “Greer.”
Oh God.
I’d never hated my name, per se, but I wasn’t always a fan of it. As a kid, it’d been too easy to twist into dumb taunts since it rhymed withrear. As an adult, it was just… uptight sounding. As boring and bland as the rest of me.
Not when he said it, though.
He really makes my name sound sinful.
Hot.
Full of spice rather than unseasoned rice.
He doubled down on the sleepy charm by happily murmuring, “You’re here.” His own words—since I was seemingly incapable of creating any—seemed to sink in to wake him up more. “Wait,whyare you here?” He glanced at the empty bedside table, then back to me. “Is it Sunday already?”
“No, Saturday. Tony called me.”
