Chapter 26 A Little Danger
A Little Danger
Tripp
My heart has finally settled from its rampant beating in the barn. Quinn is showering while I use Wes’ old room to clean up. The thought of her wet and naked in the room right next to mine is almost too tempting to resist, but we’ve probably pushed our luck enough for one day.
I tug on a clean shirt, forcing my thoughts into safer territory. I will my pulse to slow, convincing myself I can behave during dinner, that I can wait several hours or possibly days to touch her again.
The bedroom door clicks open, and Quinn sneaks inside in nothing but a towel, flipping the lock with a coy smile on her lips.
I raise my brows at her, my heart kicking up in my chest once more. “What do you think you’re doing, Quinnie?”
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “I can’t wait until later,” she says simply, eyes flicking down to where I’m already hard for her. “I want you now.”
The way her eyes track down my bare chest to the waistband of my underwear tells me exactly what she came in here for.
I cup my dick over the fabric of my boxers. “Is this what you want, honey?” My voice is a rumbling whisper.
She nods eagerly.
I cock my head to the side. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
Her smirk is fucking devious. “I don’t think you’ll last very long with my mouth on your cock anyway.”
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
I’ve never wanted a woman’s mouth on me so much in my life. But there’s a whole house full of people waiting downstairs, and getting caught would be a goddamn disaster.
She must see my uncertainty because she doubles down. “Please?” Her blue eyes plead with me, and I’m a puddle in her hands.
How the fuck can I say no to that? Even with the risk of someone walking in and finding her on her knees for me. She knows it’s dangerous, but I’m starting to think this good girl likes a little danger.
The way I want Quinn Dawson is all-consuming. It’s impossible to see reason and rationality when she’s standing in front of me in nothing but a towel, skin still damp from her shower.
My smile is cocky as my voice drops to a low rumble. “If you want it so bad, then you can crawl for it."
The flash of heat in her gaze has my body on edge, poised like an arrow notched and ready to fly.
She drops to all fours and slowly crawls toward me. The towel slips lower, teasing the slight swell of her breasts, and I grit my teeth against the urge to rip it away, throw her on this bed and have my way with her.
When she reaches me, her hands skim up my thighs, pausing at the waistband of my boxers. She peers up at me, eyes wide and hungry.
Her warm breath ghosts over my thighs, and I want nothing more than to feel that warmth wrapped around me.
I curse under my breath and slide my thumb along the line of her jaw. “Please...” I mumble, fully comfortable being the one begging now.
She smirks and tugs down my boxers just enough that my cock springs free, thick and hard, a bead of pre-cum already glistening.
She leans forward, lips brushing the tip before her tongue darts out to taste me.
“Fuck, Quinn,” I hiss, my head dropping to the wall at my back.
She lingers, tentative at first, then bolder as she wraps her lips around me and slides down my length.
My hand wraps around her hair, searching for something to anchor me to this world as a pleasure so intense I can barely hold it together rolls down my spine. A groan tears from my throat, and I desperately try to stay quiet, to bite it back, but the way she feels... it’s damn near impossible.
The suction of her mouth, the urgent way her tongue moves against me—she was right. I’m not going to last. She hums, pleased with herself when I have to quiet another moan with the back of my hand. I feel the vibration of that hum in my balls, and it nearly makes my knees give out.
She takes me to the back of her throat, and I see fucking stars.
“That’s my girl,” I breathe. “Just like that. Take it all, honey.”
She glances up at me through her lashes, and the sight nearly does me in. Innocence mixed with pure sin.
My hips jerk forward unbidden, and she takes it, relaxing her throat until I’m gone, completely lost in the wet heat of her mouth.
“Quinnie, honey, I’m gonna—fuck—” My warning is cut off in a strangled groan as my release tears through me.
I spill into her mouth, and she swallows every drop like a damn angel. When she finally pulls back, her lips glisten, and I wipe at the corner of her mouth with my thumb. She looks mighty pleased with herself.
“Holy hell,” I pant, still trying to catch my breath. “You’re gonna kill me.”
She just smiles, tugging the towel tighter before she stands up. “Guess we'd better get downstairs before they come looking for us.”
But before she can turn to leave, I grab her arm and tug her to me, capturing her mouth with mine in a kiss that’s tinged with a longing I don’t quite understand. I can taste myself on her, and it’s nearly enough to make me hard all over again.
When I finally let her go, she peers at me wide-eyed for a moment before ducking her head and slipping out of the room.
I don’t know if the kiss was meant to thank her or brand her. Maybe both. All I know is that when I walk down those stairs, I have to pretend I’m not desperate for her to be mine.
The smell of chicken baking in the oven fills the house, warm and familiar. Wes is chopping lettuce while Sawyer stirs something at the stove. And for a second, I’m caught off guard by the pinch of jealousy that hits my chest.
Watching Wes and Sawyer together the last few months has made me long for something that’s always felt a bit out of reach.
Their partnership, the way they work together, even how they bicker over decisions—it reminds me of what I saw growing up.
The kind of love that’s steady and comfortable, worn in like an old pair of boots.
It’s what Dad always wanted for me. And for a long time, I thought it would just fall into my lap when I was ready for it.
But despite my best efforts, no one’s ever seen me as more than a good time.
Even now with Quinn, all she’s looking for is a friend to supply benefits.
And I’m happy to give her whatever her kinky little heart desires, but goddamn, it knots my stomach to know I don’t get to keep her, once all her little fantasies are checked off the list.
Sawyer glances my way as I come down the stairs. “Took you long enough to change,” she says, arching a brow at me.
Is she onto us?
I will nonchalance into my body and shrug. “Maybe I just didn’t want to get put to work in the kitchen.”
The screen door squeaks open, and my mom and sister step in, arms full—Allie carrying a big glass bowl, Mom holding a breadbasket wrapped in a dishtowel.
“Vern, I’m glad you’re doing okay,” Mom says as she heads into the kitchen.
She sets the breadbasket on the table and squeezes my shoulder in greeting.
Pops’ mustache twitches as he pulls his gaze from the television. “Deanna, it’ll take more than a clogged artery or two to keep me down. What’d you bring me, Allie? Dessert?”
“Pops,” Wes grumbles from the kitchen. “Don’t push it.”
“Sorry, Pops,” Allie mumbles, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. “No sweets for you. But I made some fruit salad, and Mom made some homemade bread that’s delicious and still warm.”
Quinn comes down the stairs barefoot in a pair of artfully holey jeans and a striped shirt that hangs off her shoulder. She looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world, but the way her gaze quickly darts away from me tells me she’s just as aware of what happened upstairs as I am.
Her damp hair falls in natural waves down her back, and her skin is still flushed from what we just did in the bedroom, her lips a little swollen. She looks soft and warm and so damn pretty I can’t tear my eyes away from her casual descent.
I go breathless at the mere sight of her and have to push down the sudden urge to kiss my way up her exposed shoulder, to bury my nose in the crook of her neck and breathe her in.
Her cheeks go slightly pink when she glances my direction and catches me staring.
“Quinn, honey, it’s good to see you,” Mom says, breaking the spell as she wraps a nearly rigid Quinn in a hug at the bottom of the stairs.
Quinn clears her throat, holding my gaze. “It’s good to see you too,” she says, the words a touch too bright. “How’ve you been?”
“I’ve been busy, barely have had a moment to catch my breath. I was so grateful when Tripp invited us to welcome Vern back—and that Sawyer offered to cook.”
“I’m glad you could make it,” Quinn says, fingers nervously playing with the hem of her shirt. “I know spring is chaotic around here.”
She’s trying her damnedest to play it cool, but I know she’s replaying what she just did to me up in that bedroom.
“In the best way,” Mom says. “I like keeping busy.”
Mom threw herself into a new job as the county’s 4-H program coordinator after Dad passed. Spring meant her calendar was full of enrollment deadlines, wrangling volunteers, and fair prep.
“So does Quinn,” Allie chimes in from the counter. “She got herself a pot-bellied pig from a rescue.”
“Almost lost the pig, too,” Wes teases.
“You should’ve seen her and Tripp chasing that damn thing through the mud,” Pops says, chuckling. “Both of them were slipping and sliding all over the place.”
Red creeps into Quinn’s cheeks, and I ease back in my chair and snort. “That thing is smarter than I gave him credit for.”
Quinn lights up. “Pigs are actually just as smart as dogs. If I had to guess, he got bored and wanted a little field trip.”
Sawyer sets the last dish down on the table and wipes her hands on a dishtowel. “Alright, grab a seat before everything gets cold.”
Chairs scrape and dishes clink as everyone settles around the table in a comfortable, noisy shuffle. I nudge the chair beside me out with my boot, casual as I can manage. Quinn hesitates only a second before slipping into it.
She passes me the bowl of fruit salad, squirming a little in her seat when my fingers linger on hers a touch too long.
“He needs a new enclosure,” I note. “Sooner rather than later.”
She nods. “Good thing you ran to town yesterday and grabbed everything.”
“If Sawyer doesn’t mind helping Wes with the cattle again in the morning,” I say, glancing her way, “I can help Quinn put something together.”
Sawyer lifts a brow and slides into her chair with a smirk playing on her mouth that makes me think she sees right through me. “Sure. You two make a pretty cute pig-wrangling team.”
Quinn chokes on her drink. Under the table, I press my palm to her knee in a steadying touch, narrowing my eyes at Sawyer. She definitely suspects something. And she's absolutely being a little shit-stirrer.
Thankfully, Wes—completely oblivious to the tension—changes the subject.
“Have you started the job hunt yet, Quinn?”
She pokes at the food on her plate with a fork, shifting in her seat. “Not yet. Pops just got home. He’ll need some help for a while.”
“Oh, poppycock,” Pops huffs. “I’ll be back to full speed in no time.”
“Pops,” she says gently. “We’re doing this the right way and following the doctor’s orders.”
“You’re okay with taking that long of a break?” Wes asks.
It’s the same thing I’ve been wondering. Quinn’s never been one to slow down—not even when she’s running on fumes. She’s always burned the candle at both ends and still found a way to light a match.
“Hell, I’m not going to need you here all damn day,” Pops grumbles. “I’m sure Dr. Dillard could use an extra hand at the clinic. He’s getting older, you know.”
Quinn gives him a soft smile. “Trying to get me out of the house already, Pops?”
“Oh, pah! Like I could.”
“That’s right. You’re stuck with me now,” Quinn says with a grin, gaze flicking back to mine.
That statement hits hard, landing with a thump right in my chest. It has me feeling some type of way I can’t quite articulate. Because the truth is, I don’t mind being stuck with her.
Not one damn bit.
She looks away, her expression shifting. Her smile stays, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
And for a moment, I wonder what she’s thinking about.
Or who.