Page 51 of Wake Me Up
Pushing his palms from the counter, he starts toward me. His eyes drink me in, but his smirk is gone, and replacing it is an intense look. When he gets to me, he stands still for a moment until, suddenly …
He yanks the towel from my body.
“Much better,” he says, eyeing over his work. “Though I wish you’d take the suit off. You know, I almost didn’t even tell you to bring one.”
“And why is that?”
“Because then you’d be standing here, naked, right now.” He reaches out, brushing his fingertips along the fabric on my stomach. “Don’t ever cover up, Freya. You’re too fucking perfect for that.”
I blush and laugh at the same time, widening my eyes at him. “You, sir, have never seen me naked.” I wince. “Which is pretty insane because we are, you know … married.”
“So, let’s change that,” he drawls quickly, not missing a beat. “Lose the suit, darlin’.”
My mouth hangs open. “No way in hell!” I look down at myself, wrapping my arms around my front. “I’ve had three kids, Tripp. The women you’re used to being with? I’ll bet their stomachs don’t jiggle if you slap them, and they certainly don’t look like a faded road map.” I sigh. “Trust me, you want me to cover up.”
His eyes darken, and he bends a little closer. “If I wasn’t so set on not pissing you off tonight, I’d rip that fucking suit right in half right now, Freya.” His voice is deep and calculated. “And after I did? I’d fucking worship every single inch of you with my mouth too.”
A shiver runs through my body, hardening my nipples, and I move my hands up higher to try to hide them, but I’m sure it’s no use. He sees it, too, because he smirks before he puts his hand on my waist.
“Come on.”
Turning away from me, he starts down the hallway. I follow slowly to not seem too eager, and he leads us out onto the patio, where there’s a hot tub. Next to it is an impressively large in-ground pool with the cover over it, like it’s closed down for the winter.
“Sucks you have such a beautiful pool and live in a state where you only get to use it … what, three months out of the year?”
“I don’t swim,” he utters, sliding the hot tub cover off.
I frown. “So, you just enjoy the hot tub instead?” I smile. “I’ll admit, I’m the same way. Unless a pool is, like, a minimum of eighty-six degrees, my ass isn’t going in it.”
I move onto the steps of the hot tub before swinging my legs over the edge and lowering myself down. It’s so hot compared to the cold November air that it almost prickles my skin, and I feel like a bunch of teensy needles are poking me. Once I’m fully submerged though, it feels freaking incredible.
When he tugs his T-shirt over his head, I swallow roughly before my eyes move downward. Through his swim trunks, I can see just how long he is. Which is no surprise since I’ve not only felt it under his jeans, but seen it on a screen too.
That still doesn’t make it any easier to look away though.
“I don’t really use the hot tub either,” he utters as he climbs in, lowering himself much slower than I did.
“Oh,” I say, leaning my head against the cushion. “Did the pool and hot tub just come with the house or …”
Sitting across from me, he rests his arms on the edge of the hot tub. His hot gaze is on mine, and I pull in a breath.
“No. I had them put in a few years ago,” he answers. “My sister has two kids. I figured, when they come to visit, they might want to swim.”
The more time I spend with this man, the more surprised I am by how truly selfless he is.
“Tell me more about your sister,” I say before smiling. “How old are her kids? And are they boys? Or girls? Or one of each?”
“A boy and a girl.” He doesn’t smile proudly when he tells me, but I can tell he is proud. He’s just not the type to boast. “Jack is four, and Jenna is two.”
The thing I’ve noticed about Tripp is ninety percent of the time, his answers are bare minimum. He says what he needs to say and nothing more. But it doesn’t make me feel like he doesn’t want to talk. It’s just who he is. And to be honest, I find it sort of endearing.
“Do they live in Maine?” I can’t stop asking questions. I want to know more and more about this man. I want to know about his family. Everything.
“Nah, they live in Alabama.” He drags a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. “She and her husband live about an hour away from my mom.”
I shouldn’t ask anything else. I shouldn’t poke and prod, but curiosity killed the cat, and I find myself wanting to learn everything about this mysterious man who’s across from me.
“You said you lost your dad when you were a kid and that your mom raised you and your sister alone.” I almost choke the words out, second-guessing saying them at all. “When did he die?”
