Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
ANOTHER FRIDAY NIGHT WITHOUT A LEGENDARY PARTY AT THE NEPO BABY’S PLACE? MAKES US WONDER WHAT CLUB HE’LL BE STUMBLING OUT OF INSTEAD.
GREER
“You’re staring again,” Tripp rumbled without dropping his eyes to meet mine.
And he was right.
Because despite all that was happening around us at Gilded’s bar, I wasn’t looking at any of it. I didn’t care what celebrities and politicians were indulging in what kinks.
I was too busy staring at Tripp. It was easy to do since he’d positioned me right on his lap after he’d said we were having a drink.
Well, I was having a drink. He was having water.
“Do I have something in my teeth?” he asked as he finally looked down at me.
My cheeks flushed as I shook my head.
“Then what is it?”
“I watched Old Flame today.”
With my body literally on his, it was impossible to miss the way he braced. His brow rose, but his expression and tone were otherwise blank as he murmured, “Oh?”
“You were really good. Like, really, really good.”
He relaxed. “Glad you think so.”
With all the praise he’d received over the role, I didn’t expect my inadequate compliment to mean much, but I was wrong. His words were genuine, as was the small smile he gave me that crinkled his eyes.
“That doesn’t explain why you’ve been staring at me since I picked you up,” he added.
And I had. I’d known that I wouldn’t be able to look at him the same way, and it had nothing to do with being starstruck.
Impressed with his talent, sure. But my reaction stemmed from him just being him.
From what we’d done the night before. From knowing there was all that intensity beneath his easy-going surface.
But mostly, I hadn’t been able to stop imagining what it would be like to watch him touch himself the way he’d done outside of the cottage in the movie.
I cleared my suddenly dry throat. When that did nothing, I reached for my drink. Tripp got to it first, holding it out of reach as he waited expectantly.
“Please, Sir,” I tried.
He handed it to me, and I took a few large sips to settle my nerves.
It did exactly nothing.
I lowered the glass, and Tripp took it from my hold to set it back on the table.
One of the blank-faced servers suddenly appeared. “Another tequila?”
“No, thank you,” I said since that small amount of alcohol was settling in my stomach about as well as magma in a plastic bowl.
The server didn’t respond to me. He didn’t look at me. He stayed right where he was, only leaving once Tripp shook his head.
I glared at his retreating back before Tripp’s arm banded tighter around me.
He ran his large hand along the silky fabric of my black dress until it rested just under the curve of my breast. Lowering his head so his mouth was at my ear, his lips skimmed its shell as he explained, “While you’re here, no one will talk to you. Not without my okay.”
“Is that a rule for everyone?” I asked.
“No. It depends on the kind of relationship they have. Sometimes, it’s the man who can’t be spoken to. For others, neither have any limitations.”
“But I have a limitation?” I surmised since he hadn’t told the server otherwise.
“Correct.”
It was ridiculously over the top and caveman-esque and unnecessary.
And so hot, I was fairly certain my arousal was going to ruin my panties.
I scanned the room through new eyes. Some groups sat together and talked, but there were a fair number of guests who seemed separated by an invisible bubble—including Tripp and me.
I’d been surprised when we’d first sat that no one came to talk to him.
I’d chalked it up to the privacy and discretion that was likely guaranteed with the high fees, along with the fact most members were successful in their own right.
There was no reason to fawn amongst peers.
The truth was much more tantalizing, and a tremor went through me that was far from unpleasant. Tripp didn’t miss it. Using his hold, he repositioned me so I could feel the long, thick evidence that he was just as affected by his words as I was.
It was almost enough to distract me from the very important conversation we needed to have.
Almost.
“We need to talk,” I forced out.
“Once we’re in a room.”
“The same one as yesterday?” Knowing he kept the window closed should’ve been a letdown.
At the very least, it should’ve dampened the sexiness.
It didn’t. The experience itself was unbelievably hot on its own, and I’d been relieved to learn we’d had it without an audience.
The taboo aspect of being watched was infinitely better in theory.
If he wanted to take me back in there, though, I would go.
Hell, I would go into almost any of the rooms with him.
He shook his head. “A different one. I’ll get a text when it’s ready.”
Another surge of giddy anticipation filled me, tempered only by the daunting unknown of what I was stepping into and the even more daunting conversation we needed to have first.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long for his phone to vibrate.
Like he was just as anxious, he immediately lifted me to stand before doing the same.
He kept his arm wrapped low around my hip as he steered me down the hall.
Each time we neared an open door, my breath caught in my tight lungs only to whoosh out when we continued on.
When he finally turned into one of the rooms, there was no breath to catch.
I wasn’t sure I would be able to breathe again.
Like the windowed room, there was a bed and a padded bench. But there were also foam wedges, something that resembled a gymnastics pommel horse, wall mounts, and the same lush armchairs as out in the bar.
And all of it had restraints attached, including the wall. Thick leather cuffs with shiny metal buckles.
I jolted as the door closed behind me with an ominous finality, but I couldn’t drag my focus away from the metal buckles.
Not easily undoable latches.
Not flimsy Velcro.
Not fake containment with a simple clasp to undo like the fluffy gag handcuffs sold in the back of naughty novelty stores.
I jolted again when Tripp gripped my jaw to tilt my head back as he ordered, “Talk.”
“Is this just a bondage room?” I didn't even think to be self-conscious before admitting, “I read about them when I was researching.”
“Of course you researched. Did you color-code your findings?”
It was a teasing question, but there was no derision in his tone or on his face. If anything, his gray eyes were dark and heated.
Like he found my type-A nonsense sexy.
I shook my head. “Not this time.”
“Disappointing.” He released my face and dipped to span one of my thighs in his large hand before trailing up, dragging my short dress with him. “And what did you think of your research?”
“It was interesting,” I whispered. “In theory, at least.”
As much as I liked when Tripp held my arms, the idea of being restrained was on a completely different level that I wasn’t sure I could get behind—and that was with the easily removable bindings I’d seen in online examples.
He made a murmur of acknowledgement before sliding his hand farther under my skirt until he encountered lace. He leaned back to look at the delicate black fabric that I’d had to dig through my underwear drawer to find. “Pretty. But I think I prefer the ones from yesterday.”
I started to laugh because there was no way that was true, but the noise died in my throat at the sincerity on his face.
His shoulders pushed back, making him seem even taller and more intimidating. I was used to the way he focused in until I felt like I was the only person in the world, but it was ratcheted up to infinity with the dominant intensity in his stare. “I told you to talk.”
“Okay,” I agreed instantly, though I didn’t say anything more.
While I’d gotten ready, I’d formulated a precise conversation, including rebuttals for a variety of responses he might have.
All of it seemed to have flown out of my head.
I scrambled to remember the bullet points.
“I have another hard limit. At least, I think it’s a hard limit. ”
“What is it?”
“I don’t want to be called mean names. I saw that some people like that, but if you call me a bad girl, I think I would have a panic attack.”
His lips twitched like he was fighting a smile. “I couldn’t do it even if you wanted me to. You’re too perfect.”
I couldn’t stop myself from swaying into him.
“What else?” he prodded when my thoughts again scrambled.
“I said last night was a one-time thing.”
He gave a pointed look to the new room that we’d only just stepped into. A room that I initiated the visit to.
“Obviously, I changed my mind on that. I want to explore more, but I’m also not looking for anything beyond that.
” I tucked my hair behind my ears as I rushed to tack on, “Not that I think you are. I just want to put it out in the open in case you were worried I was going to read too much into this.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
“Good. Because I’m not.”
I forced my mouth closed before I kept babbling under Tripp’s disconcertingly blank stare.
“Anything else?” he finally asked.
I shook my head.
“What do you say if you don’t like something, siren?”
It wasn’t the first time he’d called me that name. At first, I’d assumed it was something he called all women, like a more unique sweetheart or honey. But in all of the coverage of him I’d watched, he never said it. Instead, he always got the interviewer’s name and used that, building a rapport.
My curiosity got the better of me, and I answered his question with my own. “Why do you call me that?”