My eyes narrowed. “I thought you were bringing me home.”
“I did.” He gestured behind him. “I didn’t specifywhosehome.”
I should’ve demanded he take me to my apartment. We’d already blurred more than enough lines for the night. A night that was a one-time occurrence. Stretching it out any longer was a bad idea.
A terrible, very bad idea.
Yet my mouth remained pressed closed.
Tripp must’ve expected the protest I didn’t voice because he was already geared with his justification. “My place is closer to Gilded. It’ll be quicker in the morning to drop you at your car from here.”
“Okay,” I said because I was too tired to argue, and it was a logical reason for me to stay.
And my brain was all about logic.
His brows lifted, but he gave a firm nod as he echoed, “Okay.”
He helped me from the low car, and my exhausted steps were slow and trudging as we walked inside. I expected him to ask if I wanted to watch TV or something, and then I would have to explain that I was a loser who was usually long asleep by that point. But he didn’t. He steered me right up the stairs, not stopping until we were just inside the bedroom.
Hisbedroom.
“Tripp,” I started, and his shoulders went back as he stared down at me. I thought he was going to chide me for not calling him Sir.
And, honestly, I kind of wanted him to.
If any other man had demanded to be called an honorific like that, I would’ve laughed in their face as every bit of moisture in my sex disappeared. But Tripp was different. It felt good. Natural. And naughty since he actually was my boss.
I’d never gone through any sort of wild or rebellious phase, but apparently, it wasn’t too late.
Or I was sick in the head, but I was too tired to dig into that right then.
It was for nothing anyway. His brow lifted expectantly as he waited for me to speak.
Which I would.
As soon as I remembered what I was going to say.
Oh.
Right.
I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “I can sleep in a guest room.”
“Those mattresses are basically new and still hard as shit.” Moving across the room, he opened the double doors to a closet that was twice the size of my whole apartment—and that was just what I could see from my vantage point. He returned with a tee and handed it to me. It was buttery soft, and I twisted it as I looked up at him.
I wondered if he was going to sleep in the bed with me.
I wondered if I would let him.
Or if I would beg him to.
I opened my mouth, unsure what was going to spill out.
I didn’t get the chance to say anything when he gestured over my head. “There’s an extra toothbrush in the bottom left drawer. I’ll be three doors to the right. The same room I was in Saturday.”
God, has it really been less than a week?
So much has changed.
