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As he lathered up with the bar of cheap motel soap, Tripp mentally combed over the murder scene. Of course, he’d already been there a few times. Each time he drove there, he couldn’t bring himself to enter the house or even get out of the vehicle.
But when it came time to enter it with Alexia, he had no doubt that he would wear a deadpan expression and give away none of his emotions because they’d be locked deep inside where he was trained to keep them. Alexia would be watching him closely too.
After his shower, he dressed in clean clothes from his duffel. A glance in the mirror revealed a hell of a bruise darkening on his thigh. Damn, the woman really got him good. He had half a mind to walk out in his boxer briefs and let her see the damage she’d done.
He’d last all of five seconds before he was sporting wood, though. Just being in her presence was starting to fill his head with too many lurid images of stripping her clothes off just to see the womanly curves he suspected were hidden beneath her androgenous detective garb.
Once he slipped on a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt, he stepped into the motel room.
His heart gave a hard lurch at the sight of Alexia lying on her side. She’d removed her boots and untucked her blouse, but that was as cozy as she got.
The view of her trim hips barely dipped at her waist. Tripp’s cock jerked behind his fly. Just as he guessed—Alexia had one of those lean, toned bodies and what curves she lacked she made up for with those legs.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. Christ, those legs. He wanted to spread them and—
Her voice broke through his rampant thoughts. “Feel free to sleep on the floor.”
“It’s wet.”
“I know.” A smile filled her tone, which brought a grin to his face.
He walked to the bed and stretched out with his arms stacked under his head and his dick hard enough to pierce metal. He’d never slept next to a woman without putting his hands on her. If Alexia were unattractive, this would be much, much easier.
“It seems like you’re teetering on the edge of the mattress. There’s a good foot of space, you know,” he said.
“I’m good.”
“Suit yourself.” The hour was much earlier than Tripp might retire on base, but he’d learned early in his military career to catch some shut-eye whenever the opportunity presented itself.
He was just starting to drift off when Alexia said, “Do you hear that dripping sound?”
“Yes,” he rumbled.
Now that she’d pointed it out, he was aware of a steadytap-tapof water hitting the floor. By morning, the carpet would be even wetter.
If I roll over, Alexia will be wetter too.
Several more minutes passed.
The mattress heaved as she flipped onto her back. “How can you sleep with that noise?”
“Hm?”
The flat of her hand slammed into his arm. “The dripping. How can you sleep through it?”
“This is white noise to me.”
She let out a low moan that would wake Tripp even if he’d already been dead a week. That sound…the low rasp rippling past her lips…had his heart pounding and his balls throbbing.
“What have I done?” she asked herself.
“I’m starting to ask myself the same thing.”
The weak scent of coffee wafted to Alexia’s nostrils but it wasn’t strong enough to alert her brain that she should wake up and drink some. Then she heard humming.
She cracked an eye. Oh god, this was no nightmare—she reallywassharing a room with Tripp.
His broad back was to her, those shoulders rivaling the size of the Humvee she’d hit him with. And that ass…
