Uncontrollable

by Shannon Richard

  But Beth was beginning to think that when it came to Tripp, she’d probably never be able to fully catch her breath.

  * * *

  The lasagna didn’t burn.

  By the time they’d finished their first round in bed, the lasagna had finished its first round in the oven. Tripp removed the aluminum foil and it went back in for another fifteen minutes, until the cheese was bubbling and golden brown.

  While the main course finished its progression to perfection, Tripp and Beth finished getting dinner ready. He’d told her to sit down but she didn’t listen. She never listened.

  Instead she threw her hair up into a messy bun on the top of her head and went about figuring out where everything was in his kitchen. She pulled out plates and silverware to set the table and fetched their wineglasses from outside and refilled them.

  There was something about her moving around his home—barefoot and wearing the denim shirt he’d had on earlier—that fascinated him beyond words. Maybe it was because every time she stretched to get something out of one of his cupboards the back of the shirt rode up high on her thighs, giving him just a flash of lacy underwear.

  Or maybe it was just her moving around his space with ease.

  Or maybe it was just her.

  They lingered over dinner, talking and eating, Tripp was constantly distracted by the fork disappearing between Beth’s lips. He’d never been more fascinated by a mouth in his life. It was her smile and her laughter.

  Even when their plates were clean they didn’t move away from the table; instead Tripp pulled Beth’s feet up into his lap. When he started massaging them she moaned, another favorite thing of his that she did with her mouth.

  Their back and forth questions from earlier continued, usually one for one unless the conversation evolved…which it did a number of times.

  They talked about music, favorite bands, the first live concerts they’d ever been to. Hers had been to see Britney Spears; her sister had gotten tickets to the show in Orlando and they’d gone down together. His first concert was the Rolling Stones, and he’d gone with his dad and his best friend Landon.

  She told him more about her love for gardening, how she loved being outside with her hands in the dirt.

  “Yellow roses were my mom’s favorite flower,” she told him, her words more than a tad wistful. “And they became mine and Colleen’s, too. Every spring they’d bloom like crazy in the backyard.”

  “Those weren’t the flowers that Duke destroyed, were they?”

  At the sound of his name, Duke perked up from where he was lying a few feet away.

  “No.” Beth shook her head. “Duke didn’t touch those.”

  “Well, that’s something.” Even though the truth of Grant borrowing the dog was all out in the open now, Tripp would still feel terrible if those had been a casualty.

  “Speaking of Duke? Why did you pick that as his name? If I’m remembering correctly, you went to the University of Georgia, so it’s not after Duke University, is it?”

  “He’s definitely not named after the school.” Tripp shook his head as his thumb started in on the instep of her right foot. “He’s named after The Duke, as in John Wayne.”

  “Ohhhh, so you’re a classic Western fan.”

  “I feel like I lived in those movies I watched them so much. Until I was thirteen I was pretty damn sure I was going to be a cowboy.”

  “Why did you decide you wanted to be a fireman?”

  His ministrations on her foot stopped, and as tempted as he was to break their gaze, he didn’t. “The answer to that question isn’t short or simple.” Nor was it going to be easy for him to talk about. But she’d asked and for some reason he didn’t want to keep his answer to himself.

  “I’ve got time.”

  “That you do. Especially as we’ve already established you’re staying the night.” He’d made it pretty damn clear that he wanted her in his bed all night. She’d agreed with very little persuasion. “All right, well, I’m going to have to start from the beginning, when my parents met in college.”

  “Oh, we’re going way back.” Beth settled back into her chair; the foot that wasn’t in his hands moved up his inner thigh.

  “Yup. Forty years, to be exact.” He raised his eyebrows at her as he stopped her foot’s ascent. “You going to behave?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Good.” He put her misbehaving foot on his knee before returning his attention to the instep of the other. “My dad was a senior in college, my mom a junior. And my mom’s best friend was my Aunt Caroline. They were sorority sisters, met their freshman year when they pledged at the same time. As for my dad, his best friend was my Uncle Westley. They’d played baseball in high school, and as things would go, they both ended up getting athletic scholarships to UGA.”

  His hands moved from her foot to her ankle, and then to her calf, his fingers increasing the pressure as he moved up.

  “My mom and dad started dating first, and it was about a month before my aunt and uncle crossed paths. For my uncle, it was love at first sight. For my aunt? Not so much. It took him weeks to convince her. On his way to pick her up for their first date, he got a flat tire…in the rain. When he finally got there to pick her up, he was an hour late and covered in mud. My aunt was furious at this point and slammed the door in his face. But he wasn’t giving up.”

  “Determination. I like it.”

  “As you should.” He reached forward, grabbing the seat of her chair and pulling her close enough to drape her legs over his lap. “So he bangs on the door until she opens up again, and it was then that she notices the bags in his hands. He’d stopped by this hole-in-the-wall Chinese takeout restaurant and picked up about ten different cartons of food. He tells her she can either be pissed at him and go hungry, or she can let him in and share a Chinese food smorgasbord.”

  “She let him in, didn’t she?”

  “She sure did. They were married a year and a half later, right after Aunt Caroline graduated. As for my parents, they waited a few years until my dad finished law school. As it was bound to happen, my mom and my Aunt Caroline found out they were pregnant within a month of each other.” Tripp circled his fingers around her knee before moving to her thigh.

  “Of course they did.”

  “There was no other way for it. So my Aunt Caroline had Landon, and a month later I was born. As things were meant to be, Landon was my best friend.”

  “Obviously.”

  “They lived in Savannah, which was only an hour and a half away. We saw each other at least once a month, sometimes even more often than that, what with holidays and vacations. Summers were spent at each other’s houses. Half the time at mine, half at his.”

  Tripp paused in his story for just a moment and he looked down. He started rubbing his fingers across the hem of the oversize shirt Beth wore.

  He cleared his throat before he continued, still looking down as he traced the thread of the seam. “It happened during the summer when Landon and I were at my house. We were both twelve at the time. We’d been out riding our bikes all afternoon and my mom liked for us to check in every hour or so. As we rounded the corner to our house, I saw her sitting on the front porch, sobbing.”

  This was where the story took a turn. Beth must have sensed it, because she reached forward and covered his hand with hers, her thumb tracing over his knuckles.

  Tripp looked up at her before he continued. “Uncle Westley was an accountant at a pretty big firm in the downtown area of Savannah. His office was on the fifth floor. The electrical fire started on the second.”

  Beth’s eyes closed hard before she opened them again.

  “Instead of just saving himself, he tried to get everyone else out of the building. He saved nine people’s lives that day, but he lost his. It was a bad fire—seven people died, including two firefighters.”

  “Tripp.” She whispered his name on a sigh, flipping his hand and pressing her palm to his. “He’s the reason you became a fi
refighter. Your Uncle Westley. He ran into the fire when it wasn’t his job.”

  “Yes.” He nodded, twining his fingers with hers.

  “What happened to Landon and Caroline?”

  “They ended up moving to Kingsland a year later. Their house was just down the street from ours. Caroline still lives there. She didn’t remarry; she couldn’t.”

  “That’s how it was with my dad after my mom died.” She shifted in the chair, the back of her thighs moving against the top of his. “And what about Landon? Are the two of you still best friends?”

  “We are. He lives in Macon now, with his wife Jasmine and their three kids. Wes is eight, Clarissa six, and Tiffany two.”

  “How did they meet?”

  “Law school.”

  “Really?” A small smile turned up her soft lips. “So he carried on your dad’s legacy, and in a way you carried on his dad’s. How poetic.”

  “Poetic? I don’t know that I’ve ever looked at it that way.”

  “Well, I do. What you chose to do with your life is an amazing tribute to your uncle.” She pulled their joined hands up, placing a kiss to the back of his hand. “I’m sorry he’s gone.”

  Such a small gesture, her lips brushing across his skin, but it was comforting beyond measure.

  “He was a good man. One of the best men.” His free hand was at her thigh, fingertips brushing just underneath the hem of the shirt.

  “Thank you for telling me about him. For sharing that part of yourself with me.”

  “Thank you for listening.” He looked into her soft blue eyes, knowing full well that sharing that particular part of himself was not something small…and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Definition of Boyfriend

  The hot spray of the shower pounded against Tripp’s back and shoulders, doing absolutely nothing to ease the tension that tightened every muscle in his body. Typically, showers relaxed him. Not this one. No, this one required him to lock his knees and grit his teeth.

  Not that he was complaining or anything. Not in the slightest. Why in the hell would he complain? Beth was currently on her knees in front of him, his cock in her mouth. This was a much better way to start the day than lingering over a strong cup of coffee first thing in the morning.

  Much, much, better.

  One of his hands was braced against the tile wall, the other cradled the back of her head. He didn’t push her down the length of him; there was no need to guide her. He just liked to feel her moving over him. Her mouth descending before she’d come back up in a slow, wet pull. Every time she got to the tip she swirled her tongue before starting the process all over again.

  “Beth…” Her name came out of his mouth on a long, low groan but he ceased to know how to speak when she reached up and started stroking his balls.

  “Hmmm,” she hummed around him, her lips the farthest she could go down his shaft.

  The vibration shot through him like a live current, going to every nerve. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as pressure built at the base of his cock. And then he was letting go, giving into the warm, perfect suction of her mouth. Her tongue working him over until he didn’t have anything left.

  It took a second for his brain to reconnect to his body. When it did, he opened his eyes and looked down at the woman who still knelt before him. He reached for her, pulling her to her feet. Her skin was hot under his hands. Feverish. The heat in her blue eyes intense…needy.

  “We aren’t even close to being done,” he told her as he reached behind him and shut the water off.

  “Thank God.”

  He grinned as he moved both of his hands to her sides, skimming them down her hips and to her thighs. A second later he was pulling her up, her arms looping around his neck as her legs wrapped around his waist.

  The glass shower door opened with a simple push and Tripp stepped out, carrying Beth through the bathroom and to his bedroom. They were both dripping wet, the water from her hair running in rivulets down her shoulders and back. But he had absolutely no intention of stopping to grab a towel.

  The second he got her on the bed, his mouth landed on her neck, and then he was moving across her chest—pausing for more than a moment at each of her breasts—and down to her belly. Every place his lips touched, he licked the water droplets that beaded on her skin. She was panting by the time he pulled her legs over his shoulders, but that was nothing to the cry of pleasure she made when he buried his face between her thighs.

  He’d never get over the taste of her, would never get over the sounds she made. They drove him out of his ever-loving mind.

  It didn’t take all that long before she was coming against his tongue, her fingers tightening in his wet hair as her hips moved, seeking everything he gave her. There was no stopping until she was good and truly finished, her core no longer clutching with her release, her hands loosening in his hair. It was then that he gently pulled her legs from his shoulders, kneeling up between her thighs and looking down at her body. Her skin glowed, her breasts rose and fell as her chest heaved for breath, her nipples erect.

  Yeah, he was already hard again.

  He reached for the nightstand, pulling out the first condom he touched. Beth’s eyes were on him, watching as he opened it and rolled it down his length.

  His cock bobbed against his abs as he moved closer to her, still kneeling between her thighs. Her feet were planted flat on the mattress, her legs bent. Skimming his hands up from her calves, he pushed out when he got to her knees. He spread her wide and she shifted restlessly on the bed.

  “So perfect.” He ran a finger across her glistening folds. And all mine.

  The breaths that escaped Beth’s mouth were still unsteady, and they became even more so as he played with her, dipping his fingers inside, touching her clit, making her wetter and needier.

  “Tripp!” She moaned his name on a plea.

  She wasn’t the only one who was desperate. He replaced his fingers with the tip of his cock, grabbing her hips and pulling her to him at the same moment that he thrust forward.

  “Yes!” Her scream filled the room as she closed her eyes, her back arching off the bed and her hands wildly clutching at the sheets.

  The bed creaked as he moved in and out of her, her breasts bouncing with every thrust. He liked this position, liked looking down at her as he took her from this angle. The only problem? He didn’t have access to her mouth.

  He grabbed her hands as he came down on top of her, pinning them above their heads as he claimed her mouth. Their fingers twined, linking together. Beth’s legs came up and wrapped around his waist, her ankles locking above his ass.

  The harder he thrust into her the more her body responded. Her hands held onto his in a fierce grip, like she was never going to let go; her heels dug into his ass to spur him on; her mouth hungrily ate at his, demanding more. Neither of them let up, the push and pull of their bodies on that mind-bending, pleasure-filled pace.

  He knew when she’d gone beyond the edge, knew when she was consumed by her orgasm. Her nails dug into the backs of his hands almost painfully as she ripped her mouth from his and screamed his name. He buried his face against her neck as she tightened around his cock, the delicious pulse of her core bringing forth his own release. A long, low groan rumbled out of his chest as he let go, getting lost in the pleasure…

  …getting lost in her.

  It took a minute for Tripp to surface, and when he did he pulled up and looked down into Beth’s face. Her eyes were open and focused on him, filled with wonder and pleasure. Her wet hair was spread out across his pillow and that flush of passion stained her cheeks.

  She wrecked him. He knew then, figured it out in that moment, that he’d never be the same after this woman.

  She’d already changed him, and if that wasn’t just a little bit terrifying he didn’t know what was.

  * * *

  Beth spent the morning and a good part of the afternoon wit
h Tripp, leaving his house a little before two. As she needed to get dressed in more than his T-shirt before picking up the kids, it was understandable, but he hadn’t wanted her to leave. And since she’d stayed at his house until the last possible minute, it led him to believe she hadn’t wanted to leave, either.

  A small consolation.

  When Beth headed out the door, it wasn’t lost on Tripp that they hadn’t exactly had that conversation he’d intended for them to have. Sure they’d quite accurately established that there was something going on between them…they just hadn’t established what they were going to do about it.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to figure that out, because he did. It was just that he’d seriously gotten distracted. It was hard not to when Beth hadn’t really been wearing clothes almost the entire time she’d been at his house.

  But they would have that conversation, just as soon as they were in the same room again…and fully clothed.

  Tripp occupied himself once she’d left. Since he hadn’t gotten as much work done on Koko as he’d planned on the day before—not that he was complaining about that change in his agenda in the slightest—he was spending a few hours under the hood. It was a nice day outside, and there was a cool breeze coming in through the garage door. He needed to enjoy this weather while it lasted; it would be like a sweatbox in there once summer rolled around.

  Duke was lounging in the grass a few feet away, basking in the sunshine one minute and then rolling over into the shade of the house when he got too hot. After an hour or so he finally settled on staying in the shade, falling asleep on his back. The only movement coming from him was his steadily rising and falling chest and the occasional twitch of his paws as he dreamt.

  The dog must’ve really been out for the count, because he didn’t react at all when they were joined by someone else. Well, Grant didn’t so much join them as hide in the bushes on the side of the house. Tripp spotted the little guy peeking around the corner. His sandy blond head was visible for just a moment before it disappeared again.