Hard Love (Trophy Boyfriends #3) - Sara Ney Page 0,83
so maybe this was meant to be in a weird, messed-up way. Warm and fuzzy he is not. Blunt and straightforward? There has never been a man more so.
I love not having to guess what’s on his mind and I’m determined to be the same way.
We’re quiet all the way to a more residential area, anticipation making Tripp’s knuckles grip the wheel tighter, his jaw clenching. I watch his profile, fascinated by the way I can almost see his heart beating out of his chest. He’s excited.
Nervous, too?
Hard to say.
I resist the urge to wring my hands, shifting in my seat, the seatbelt becoming a straitjacket, keeping me from what I really want to be doing: climbing into the back to get busy.
This is so unlike me, but it feels like me.
Gosh, this whole year has been a year of firsts: first real job, first time living alone, first time flipping a person in public and not at the karate studio, first time having sex in a vehicle.
“Oo, there’s a spot!” We’re on an offshoot of a road off a road, where brownstone houses line the street and a church sits on the other side. Lots of trees. Plenty of shade.
He’s skeptical. “Uh—in front of the church?”
Good point. “Okay, keep driving.”
He drives slowly up the narrow road, lined with cars and parking meters, searching for a spot. We happen upon a park—but not the kind where children play. It’s more of a grassy knoll, surrounded by a fence and trees and benches, and it’s completely devoid of people. No dogs, no kids, no one sitting on a bench to read. Across the street are row houses, mixed with older apartment buildings—not the kind with doormen.
The street is all but deserted.
And. He easily finds a place to park.
I want to puke, stomach going absolutely wild, one butterfly turning to two, then four, then—
“We can just head back to your office if you change your mind.” He’s giving me an out I have no intention of taking, despite my nervous belly.
“The train is already in motion,” I tease, unbuckling my seatbelt and turning to face him. “Unless you’re scared?”
Did those words come out of my mouth? Since when do I challenge huge, hulking guys to bang me in public spots and accuse them of being scared if they don’t?
Rude, Chandler.
Back it up.
“I’m sorry, that’s not what I—”
The truck gets slammed into park, his seatbelt flying from his shoulder, metal buckle hitting the driver’s side door he shoves open in an instant.
“Back seat.”
Roger that.
I follow in hot pursuit but climb over the center console instead of exiting and coming in through the extended cab door, shoes on the floor in front of me, discarded so I don’t soil the seats.
This is so exciting!
I didn’t start dating until I was in college, so I was older by the time I’d lost my virginity; none of those experiences, though new, were as exhilarating as what’s happening with Tripp right now.
The best part is? I have a feeling this is new to him, too.
His body is monolithic, taking up most of the back seat, his thick thighs spread, offering me little choice but to climb onto his lap. Straddle him. Our mouths fuse, naturally—no hesitation, already seeking their rhythm.
Confident that no one can see us—not with the overcast sky, mature shade trees lining the sidewalk, and the truck’s dark-tinted windows—my fingers roam the buttons of my shirt, plucking each one free, one at a time.
My head hits the ceiling. “Ouch!”
Tripp chuckles before his mouth latches onto the skin of my collarbone and he groans, hands caging my waist. “Fuck you smell good.”
Thank heavens for that—I didn’t wear deodorant this morning.
Or like, any morning? Ha ha.
He doesn’t seem to give a shit; I could probably be covered in crap and the man’s hands would still be all over my body—roaming my upper torso, eyes heavy-lidded from lust.
“So fucking pretty,” he mutters while his fingers find the clasp of my bra, the lacy one I threw on last minute that didn’t seem practical but which I’m grateful for.
Vanity has its rewards.
He appreciates my efforts with the palms of his hands, then lips, tongue and teeth nipping at my nipples. I could stay like this forever, letting him lavish my body with kisses…
My hips slowly begin doing the only thing they can do in a situation like this: they grind. Round and round on the hard erection straining at the front of his jeans.