You Were Mine (Rosemary Beach 9)

His mouth was still at my ear, telling me things that only prolonged this. How he could smell me and how my come was coating his fingers and how hard he was. I had forgotten about his dirty talk. He had a very powerful way with words.

“Stop!” I gasped out, needing to breathe.

He was holding me tightly against him as his hand remained cupped between my legs. “Stop what, sweetheart?” he asked, running his mouth up and down my neck as his heavy breathing heated my skin.

“Don’t talk,” I begged. He had to stop talking. It was too much.

A low chuckle vibrated through his chest, and I realized I still had his very expensive shirt clasped tightly in my fists. I let go and tried to smooth it out, even though my body didn’t want to function properly. “Can I talk yet?” he asked.

I looked up at him as he watched me, the need still glowing in his eyes. “If it’s not dirty,” I said, still sounding like I had run a mile.

He laughed out loud this time and pulled me tighter to him as his hand slowly eased out from between my legs.

“S’not funny,” I said, laying my head back against the trunk of the palm tree.

He bent down and kissed the corner of my mouth. “You don’t like it when I tell you how good you feel?”

Oh, I liked it all right. “Your dirty mouth should come with a warning. It’s lethal,” I informed him as my heart slowed and my breathing evened out.

He smirked, then dropped his eyes to my legs, which were still straddling his thigh. I lowered my leg that I had wrapped around his waist. “My very wet pants leg believes you enjoyed my dirty words just fine,” he said, looking back up at me.

I was on my tiptoes in my heels to keep from completely sinking down onto his thigh. My calves were starting to burn. Damn man was too tall. “I need you to move your leg before I get a cramp in my calf,” I told him.

“Why will you get a cramp?” he asked, looking down. “Stop standing on your tiptoes. I’ve got you,” he said when he saw what I was doing.

I sighed and enjoyed the oxygen as it filled my lungs. “You’re already complaining about your wet leg. It will get much worse. I’m a bit of a mess,” I admitted.

“Not complaining about that, sweetheart. It’s sexy as hell. I can smell you on me, and it’s fucking amazing.”

Oh, God, there he went again. I shook my head at him and put a finger over his lips. “No more of that. I mean it. I have to pull myself together and walk back inside.”

Tripp grinned, and his lips felt so full underneath my finger that I wanted to trace them and lick them. “You can’t go back in there, sweetheart. Your dress is wrinkled, I’ve pulled most of your hair down, your lips are swollen, and I’d bet the soft skin on your neck is all red from my obsession with it. Then there’s the fact that you aren’t wearing panties, and you smell like sex. It’s intoxicating, and I refuse to let someone else smell it.”

Oh. Yeah. I couldn’t go back in there. I needed alone time for real now.

“I’m going to straighten myself up and go inside and give our good nights to Della and Woods. I’ll make an excuse for you.” He stopped and studied me a moment. The look in his eyes made me tingle between my legs again, though that should have been impossible. “Then I’m coming to you. I need you naked, and I want inside you.”

He didn’t give me time to reply. He dropped his knee and steadied me, then straightened my dress before walking back to the tent. I watched his long legs and the way his wide shoulders looked in that jacket. I waited for the guilt to hit me. I hadn’t been with anyone since Jace.

But it didn’t come.

Which made me angry. At myself for betraying Jace. At Tripp for making me want him. At life because I knew what I’d had with Tripp was destroyed. It could never be again.

Tripp

Once I was within the glow of the tent lights, I glanced down to check myself. Other than my shirt being wrinkled, I was fine. Besides, I didn’t intend to stand around long. I wasn’t giving Bethy enough time to change her mind.

Luckily, Woods and Della weren’t dancing. They were talking with Rush and Blaire. I slipped around the side so I didn’t have to walk through the tables and speak to anyone. Rush’s gaze found me first. My wrinkled shirt didn’t go unnoticed, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Where you been?” he asked in a slow, amused drawl when I finally reached them.

The other three pairs of eyes swung to look at me. Woods didn’t look thrilled, but Della seemed to be OK about my leaving Charity. A smile tugged on her lips.

“Your, uh, um,” Blaire stammered, looking at my wrinkled shirt. She glanced at Rush for help.

He chuckled at her reaction, and Blaire’s eyes went wide with understanding.

“Did you and, uh, Charity hit it off, then?” Blaire asked, her voice sounding unsure.

Charity? Fuck no.

“He abandoned Charity a while ago,” Woods said in an annoyed tone.

Della looked up at him and slapped his chest. “He did not. He talked to her, and she told him to go. It’s OK now, you don’t have to be upset with him.”

Woods looked relieved. “Good. Let’s not set him up on a date again. Too much damn stress.”

Della laughed and turned her gaze back to me. “Sorry about all that. I was trying to be helpful. I didn’t know . . .” She trailed off.

“It’s OK. I know, and I appreciate the thought. Uh, listen, tonight’s been great, and I’m really happy for y’all. But Bethy had to go back to her hut, and I’m going to make sure she gets there safely.”

Rush tried to smother his laugh with a cough. Woods didn’t even try. Assholes. They could at least pretend to believe me for the women’s sake.

“Oh, of course. Tell Bethy thank you for everything, and if we don’t see y’all in the morning before we take off, we’ll see you when we get back from our honeymoon,” Della said.

“Have fun,” I told her, then glanced over at Blaire, whose curiosity was all over her face. If I didn’t get out of there fast, she was going to start asking questions.

“You, too,” Woods replied with a smirk.

Before they could see the grin on my face, I turned and headed for the exit.

Bethy was sitting in the lounger outside her hut as I walked up. She was lost in her thoughts. It didn’t look like she had even gone inside. The heels she’d been wearing were dangling from her fingers, but other than that, she hadn’t changed. Fear of where her thoughts might be swept over me.