Page 53 of Up in Smoke

This is happening. And it’s happening with the most drool-worthy man on planet Earth. Before he has a chance to redirect my line of sight again, I return to his eyes.

“Tell me something you want before I keep going.”

“Take your shirt off,” I blurt out in one breath.

As quickly as he reaches for the back of his shirt collar and pulls it forward and over his head, his hands are back on me.

“Better?”

I nod. Nothing could have stopped me from dragging my fingertips down his chest and over his abs. Solid, bare muscle has never looked or felt this good.

The sleeve of tattoos on his left arm is the only place decorated with ink, and there’s something intentional and dramatic about it that makes me want to mark the untouched skin on his chest with a bite or two.

He searches my eyes while I try not to whimper as his thumb increases pressure and movement over my clit.

“Kiss me,” he says.

I’m usually the one chasing down a kiss in situations like this. Tripp wants it and isn’t afraid to make that clear. I run my tongue over my lips and lock in on his expression, searching desperately to detect any hesitation. I only have half a second to try and find something that was never there.

He falls back, pulling me with him and crashing our lips together before I have a chance to fulfill his request. One closed-mouth kiss turns instantly to colliding tongues. It’s smooth but infused with heat. My chest presses against his. His head tilts left as mine tilts to the right.

It’s not gentle in any sense of the word. No warning comes before my panties are yanked to the side, and his middle finger pushes inside me.

“Fuck,” I breathe out, leaning away from our kiss to momentarily lose my mind.

“Do you have any idea how sexy it is that you’re so wet? I’m weak for that shit, Mace. You’re soaking my hand, and it feels perfect.”

I gasp as he pulls out of me and brings the finger to his mouth. Even without him working inside me, somehow, the tingles rage on.

He hums deep, and it makes me shiver. The sight of his lips wrapped around the taste of me makes me tremble even more.

It’s fuel to the fire building under my skin. I haven’t thought too hard since he directed me to get out of my head. But now, the realization is inescapable, and I can’t help but let the thought take shape. I’m already close. So close.

A tiny marching band makes its way to the finish line in my mind, poised and ready for the loud and celebratory moment when I finally smash through the banner.

I bite the corner of my bottom lip and smile as Tripp returns his hand to my opening. When I crash down on his chest again and our lips meet for the second time, the new flavor on his tongue is sinfully erotic. I love it more than I expected to. More than I should.

I pull away with a sudden realization. I’m going to like this part way too much, I know it. “Should we be kissing? Maybe we should have made a rule about not doing that.”

Meanwhile, I’m internally hoping he disagrees. Please disagree.Please.

He’s caught off guard and looks sad about it for a split second. I almost giggle because of it.

“I’ve been finger-fucking you. And you’re worried about kissing?”

“It’s intimate?—”

He pulls my face to his and huffs a tiny laugh. His definitive words barely slip out before he forces our lips together again.“You’re done making suggestions for now. That’s my job. More kissing.”

He devours me then, hungry and urgent. If he wants more, I damn sure do. Not just more kissing, but more of everything else he is doing. Without me saying it . . . he knows.

My tells. My quirks. He knows them all.

This time with two fingers, he sinks back into me. My lips cease movement, and I sigh into his mouth.

Rather than pumping them in and out, his fingers curl. There’s no slow build. It continues—intense and precise. Again, and again. While squeezing my eyes closed and riding the rhythm of his way-too-talented fingers, he attempts to pull my lips back to his.

“Please don’t stop. Keep going,” I beg quietly.

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