You Were Mine (Rosemary Beach #9)(37)

I didn’t return to the table with Dean, though. I kept walking. I needed to find a quiet spot and gather my thoughts. Seeing Tripp in close conversation with Charity, their heads bowed together, was too much. I’d been ready to climb into his arms, but he had walked away easily enough.

Ugh. I was being catty. I hated that. I was not that girl.

Once I was out from under the tent, I went toward the darkness and away from the lights and the servers’ area. I couldn’t go back to my room yet. That would be rude. I just needed a few moments to myself. Maybe a good pep talk before I went back in there.

The cluster of palm trees was the closest thing to privacy I could find, so I headed down the small hill toward them. The sound of footsteps behind me stopped me, and I turned around to see Tripp closing in quickly. What was he doing?

He caught up to me and grabbed my hand. “Keep going,” he said as he kept his eyes on the palm trees.

“Why?” I asked, confused, as I started jogging to keep up with him.

He didn’t respond. When we were in the shelter of the trees, he grabbed my waist and pushed me up against one of the fat trunks. “Where were you going?” he asked, searching my face like it had all the answers in the world.

His hands were still on my waist, and his grip, although it wasn’t painful, was firm. “Uh, well, here,” I stammered out.

“Why?” he asked, stepping closer to me.

“I needed a moment alone,” I admitted. And you were all chummy with Charity. But I didn’t say that part. It would confuse things. Tonight was just a moment in time when we could forget the past. Nothing more.

“I was coming to get you to dance again,” he said, lowering his voice as he moved in closer and tilted his head down toward me.

“You looked very busy to me,” I replied before I could stop myself.

He moved one of his hard thighs between my legs. “I was talking. Did that bother you?”

Yes. “No, of course not.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he replied as he reached up and ran his thumb over my jaw then behind my ear before letting his fingers trail down my neck.

“Tripp,” I managed to say, although my voice was off.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he replied, now running a finger back up my neck.

“Wh-wh-what are you doing?” I was really stammering now. Oh, God, I couldn’t handle this.

He bent his head and inhaled deeply against my neck. “I wanted to do this while we were dancing. Your skin’s so soft and smells so damn good.”

I wanted to tell him we should stop. This couldn’t go anywhere. It would only add to the pain. But my head tilted back, and I arched my neck instead. An open invitation.

Tripp groaned just before his lips touched my skin. The hot tip of his tongue darted out and licked its way up the side of my neck, and then he pulled my earlobe with his teeth gently before kissing his way to my mouth. I knew it was coming, and all I could do was hold my breath in anticipation.

When his lips covered mine, reality ceased to matter. That moment was all that mattered. Tripp’s hand reached down, grabbed one of my legs, and pulled it up. I wrapped it around his waist as he moved his leg in tighter between my thighs.

His mouth opened over mine, and I gave him what he was asking for. The taste of tonight’s champagne assaulted me as his tongue slid over mine slowly, as if he was trying to savor me. I slipped my fingers back into his hair. I needed to hold him here. I didn’t want this to end. This feeling . . . I’d forgotten it. So many times, I thought it was just a young girl’s imagination that had made me think it was this good. But my memory needed no embellishment.

Everything else in life fell away when Tripp’s mouth was on mine. Tasting him was only part of it. The intimacy of each lick and caress was like a flame being ignited.

Tripp’s hands eased up my thighs and under my dress until he was cupping my bottom. He froze, and everything stopped when his hands met bare skin instead of panties. I’d forgotten that I had forgone panties to avoid a panty line.

He inhaled sharply, tore his mouth from mine, and looked down at me. The desire that pounded in my veins and awakened every inch of my body was there in his eyes. “No panties,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

I shook my head because speaking was too much.

He slowly slid his hand down until he met the wetness that he’d caused. He lowered his forehead against mine and closed his eyes tightly while his finger began to move between my open legs. His breathing was hard and labored, as if he kept forgetting to breathe and had to gasp when he remembered to.

I squeezed his shoulders and trembled as his finger remained so close to where I wanted it to touch.

“You’re soaked,” he said, then hissed in a breath.

I was aware of this. I could feel it dampening my thighs. He began to move his finger, and I buried my face in his chest and cried out. He slipped one finger inside, then slowly started pumping it in and out. I moaned and panted, with my mouth muzzled against his chest.

“So hot and tight. God, I love touching you like this. I’m going to rub that swollen clit now, sweetheart. Hold on to me,” he said just before his thumb did as he promised.

My head fell back as I screamed out his name.

“Fuuuuck,” he said, grabbing my head and pulling it back against his chest. “That good? That hot little * wants to be taken care of? You’re squeezing my fingers so damn tight I swear I’m gonna end up coming in my damn pants.”