Page 18 of Tripp

“My long-ass legs?”

“Yeah. I had to run just to keep up with you. What are ya, seven feet tall?” He stood taller and smiled bigger, his rugged beauty almost knocking me on my ass for real that time.

“Six four.”

“You’re the biggest man I’ve ever seen,” I blabbered, continuing to crane my neck just to see his face. My confession rattled me even though it was an innocent statement.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, sweetheart.” He chuckled, licking his lips before turning away from me and strolling into what I assumed was his bedroom.

Standing in the doorway, I watched him dart about the room, disappearing into a closet before reentering the space. Grasped in his hands was a plain red T-shirt. “Will this do?”

“For what?”

“For bed. Or like I said, you could sleep in the nude. But if you go with that option, you better lock this door or I’ll be payin’ you a visit.” He wriggled his brows and I found him even sexier than before. A playful Tripp, albeit inappropriate, tugged at something inside me, but I didn’t want to dissect any of what I was feeling right then.

“What about the shorts?”

“What shorts?”

“You said you had a T-shirt and shorts I could change into. So, where are the shorts?” I shuffled my feet but beyond all reason kept my eyes pinned to his. I found our banter soothing, although the sexual attraction toward him ran rampant inside me, threatening to erupt at any moment if he didn’t walk away.

With a few simple steps, he towered over me, holding his shirt in front of me. “I think this will be plenty. It’ll hide . . . everything.” Why did he look disappointed after he spoke? Standing so close tested my restraint. I feared if he didn’t move back, and do it soon, I’d throw myself at him and beg him to have his way with me. Which, much like going home with a stranger, was completely out of character for me.

Pulling me back from my fantasies, he pointed toward the bathroom and said, “You can change in there.”

“What smells so heavenly?” I rounded the corner as my stomach threatened to eat itself.

“I thought you said you didn’t have much of an appetite,” he responded, wiping his hands on a nearby dishtowel.

“Well, it’s back in full force now.” Walking up behind him, I moved to his right to try and peer around him but he shifted at the last second, blocking my view of whatever he was dishing out on the plate. Because I couldn’t see the food he’d prepared, I did the next best thing. Taking a deep breath, I inhaled the delicious aroma, closing my eyes and allowing the savory smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes to waft through my nose.

“Did you just smell me?”

I was still lost to the aroma of a home-cooked breakfast when Tripp surprised me with his question. My eyes popped open and my lips parted in surprise. I took a step back and fervently shook my head. Words escaped me, and in my silence I allowed myself to quickly take in the man in front of me. The smirk on his face was most definitely arrogant, but for some reason it worked for him. Made him sexier, if that were at all possible. His shirt stretched across his broad chest and the image of what lay just underneath was anything but hidden. He wore dark-washed jeans, the fabric fitted in all the right places. When I looked lower I saw he was barefoot. I’d never been so happy to see a man’s feet before.

“Well . . . did you?” he asked again.

“Uh . . . what?” I shook my head and tried a different response, something that didn’t have me sounding like a complete idiot. “No, of course I wasn’t smelling you. I was smelling the food.”

“Are you sure? Because I’ve been told I smell incredible.”

“I’m sure you have, and by plenty of women at that.”

“Not anyone who counted,” he offered. A fleeting look passed over his features but was gone before I could read into it. Retreating a step, he glanced at me from head to toe, similar to what I’d just done to him. His quirked brow made me self-conscious all of a sudden, even though I was fully clothed. “I like you in my shirt.”

Finally peeling my eyes from him, I looked down at the oversized shirt covering my body. With my gaze still averted, I responded. “Yeah, it does the trick.”

Tripp cleared his throat, but it wasn’t until he did it again that I raised my head. The way he stared at me was as if he wanted to eat me alive, and given the sexual tension between us I could only imagine exactly where he’d like to start on my body. Clenching my thighs together, I tried to squelch the sudden throbbing, but it was useless; the only thing that was gonna help me right then was a cold shower. I tried to think of something to say but the only thing my lust-induced brain could come up with was “You have a stain on your shirt.”

“Where?” He pulled the material away from his body and I caught a peek of his lower abdomen.Look away.But I couldn’t. “I don’t see it,” he huffed, pulling his shirt higher up his body so that I had a full view of his stomach. Can men have eight-packs? Because he sure as hell did.

“It’s right there,” I answered, tearing my eyes away from his naked skin and stepping closer until my hand covered his, moving the shirt until I touched the stain. “Here.”

He smiled, looking at where our hands touched. “Hazard of cooking, I suppose.” Swallowing my sudden brazenness, I stepped back and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. I was nervous, sure, but it was more than that. Desire. Want. Lust—you name it.

“Looks like I better take this off before I stain it again.”

Before I processed his words completely, he lifted his shirt, revealing first his defined abdominals and then his pecs. Furrowing my brow at the sight of the many scars littering his torso, I didn’t ask what had happened, figuring it was too personal for him to reveal such a thing to a stranger, even though he’d insisted said stranger stay with him that evening.

---