Page 22 of Wildest Dreams

Tripp sighs, his defeated brow lifting so he is looking at me.

“You don't have to,” he looks tired.

“I know, but I think it may be best,” I nod and now it's my turn to bow my head.

Nothing but silence surrounds us, and on that last note, he walks towards me and takes a seat in the rocker next to me.

And that's how we sit until the early hours of the morning.

No words.

No noise.

Just each other’s company.

CHAPTER SEVEN

TRIPP

Iwake stiff-necked and cold. It takes me a moment to realise where I am.

The sun peeks between the mountains, the low sun ready to greet today and the sound of the eagle's piping notes settle my realization.

Rolling my head to the side, I gaze to where she was sitting last night and I see I'm alone.

Sighing, I push out of the rocker and stretch my arms up then bend my neck, cracking each time and man, it felt good.

Walking into the house, no one is there to greet me. I tiredly trudge into the kitchen, fill the coffee pot and put it on, then my tired legs take me to the bathroom. My eyes are like slits, my head pounds.

Opening the door, a scream wakes me up and that's when I see Dixie wrapped in a towel.

“Shit, sorry—I'm so sorry,” I hide my eyes and back out of the room.

I turn, walking to my bedroom and slam my door.

I groan, annoyed that my cock is hardening over the sight of her.

Kicking my boots off, I climb onto my bed and fall face down. My mind fills with images of Dixie. I've seen her body before, many times. But something about it today felt different. It had been years. Her body had changed, in the best way. Curves in places where they never were before, boobs more rounded and fuller.

My cock swells and I am desperate to jerk off, but I restrain.

Rolling onto my back, my eyes pin to the ceiling and I try to think about everything other than her silky wet skin.

I'm not alone with my thoughts long when a glum looking Pacey walks into my room like a stroppy teenager.

“Tripp,” he grunts, falling onto the bed next to me.

“Pacey,” I roll my head to the side, looking at his side profile. He still looks baby faced. Soft stubble and golden locks.

“I feel like death.”

“I'm not surprised,” I sigh, my eyes back on the ceiling.

“Did I say anything out of line last night?”

“You blamed me for Austin,” and now it's Pacey's turn to look at me.

“You know I didn't mean that man...” he pauses, breath held.

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