Page 34 of Wake Me Up (New England Bay Sharks #5)

“Is that how it goes?” I tease him, understanding that he may want to lighten the mood.

“Well … do you mind if I ask how he passed away? And please, don’t feel like you have to answer.

It’s just … like I told you before, I understand now why you’re so good with the kids. You’ve been in their shoes. Sadly.”

He runs his hand through his hair impulsively. “ Cancer.” The word comes from his mouth roughly, like it wasn’t easy to say. “I got to say goodbye to him though. I’m sure your kids would give anything to have been able to do that.”

It’s almost like he’s downplaying his loss. As if it doesn’t count the way it did for my kids because he knew it was coming. That’s the furthest thing from the truth though.

“That might be true, but they didn’t have to watch him get sick,” I say as gently as I can. “I’m sure that was hard.”

“Yeah,” he utters, looking straight ahead, his eyes no longer connecting with mine. “It fucking sucked, but sometimes, that’s life, right?”

His gaze shifts around, and he looks back at the water again. His eyes squint a bit before he leans forward, holding his hand up. “There’s a seal right there. See him?”

I look, but I don’t see anything. “Where?” I whisper, like I’m actually going to scare the damn thing away, being all the way up here, if I’m too loud.

“Come here,” he says, motioning for me to move toward him.

Standing up, I walk to his side and look out at the ocean. It’s almost dusk now, but there’s still enough daylight to see the water.

Taking my hand in his, he lifts it up, pointing to where the seal is. He positions his body behind me, almost resting his chin on my shoulder.

“I see it,” I say, excited when I finally spot it, but unable to stop myself from thinking about his dick right behind my ass with very little clothing between us.

“He’s out for a night swim,” he murmurs, and my skin erupt into goose bumps.

His hand stays over my own, and he laces his fingers through mine, making my heart lurch. We quietly watch the creature for a few minutes as it swims around before finally going underwater.

Tripp releases my hand and collapses on the seat beside mine, but keeping his hand on mine, he pulls me over onto his lap, so now, I’m straddling him.

“Is this okay?” he asks, looking up at me.

When I give him a small bob of my head, his palms skim to my waist, digging his fingertips in the slightest.

“Tell me something about you, Freya. ”

With his hands on my body, my brain doesn’t want to work. I feel drunk, but I know I’m simply under a Tripp Talmage spell.

“There’s not much to know.” I shrug bashfully. “I’m a widow. I have three kids. I work at the bakery.” I wink. “And I make a mean pastry.”

He doesn’t crack a smile or laugh. Instead, he tilts his chin upward more, making it so that our lips are just inches apart.

“I know all of that stuff. What did you want to be when you grew up?” he rattles off.

“Let’s just say, my plans jumped around a lot.” I chuckle. “For a while, a doctor. Then an astronaut. At one point, a pilot.”

“And now?” he drawls.

“Gramp Frank needs me at the bakery,” I say, trying my best to keep my voice unchanged. “And I love to bake.”

His eyes rake over my face, examining me.

“So, if you spend your entire life at Frank’s Bakery, you’ll be happy?

” There is no judgment in his tone. He’s not trying to make me feel like that dream wouldn’t be enough; he’s just genuinely asking me a question.

And from the way he’s gazing up at me, I know he really does care about the answer too.

I should lie and say yes. The truth is, I don’t hate working at the bakery. And besides, my grandparents built the business together, and now that she’s gone, he needs someone to help run it, and I’m the obvious choice.

“Yeah, I guess,” I peep. I know he sees right through me, so I sigh.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to own a farm, but one that’s run like a business.

You know, a farm to come see animals, but also has all the things like apple picking, strawberry picking, tractor rides …

and a bakery too. Maybe even a small café that does pizzas or something.

” My eyes widen when I talk about this because no one has ever asked me about my dream now that I’m old enough to actually have one.

“I went to this place once in New Hampshire, and it had a corn maze in the fall and a Christmas tree farm in the winter. I would love to have the chance at something like that.”

I stop, realizing I’ve been talking nonstop, and he’s just sitting there, listening. Smiling nervously, I surprise myself when I loop my hands around his neck.

“Okay, now that I went on my insane dream tangent, it’s your turn to share.”

“Not so fast,” he says, sliding his hands up and down the fabric of my suit. “You never did say where this dream farm place would take place. Maine, or … where?”

“Ideally somewhere in Maine or New England because other parts of the country just don’t have autumn the same as we do and it’s my favorite season.

” I give him a teasing smile. “Not saying you Southerners don’t have a proper fall.

I’m sure you have your own version of autumn. I’m just so in love with ours here.”

“Is leaving Portland in your dreams, or do you like it here?”

I subtly rub my fingers into his neck. “What is this, an interview?” I giggle.

“Um … well, I like Portland because my family is here. But truth be told, I’d love to live in a part of Maine that is more rural.

Portland’s great and all, but the sound of honking horns all day at work?

” I scrunch my nose up. “I could do without that.”

Before he can fire another question my way, I widen my legs, straddling him a little tighter. “And what about you, Tripp Talmage, the infamous coldhearted goalie for the Sharks?” I dip my chest a bit lower. “What’s it like, living your dream?”

His expression becomes unreadable, and I hate that he can do that, making it so hard for me to know what he’s thinking or how he’s feeling.

“It’s, uh … a dream come true.” He says the words, but I’m not buying it. “Just not sure how many seasons I got left in me—that’s all.”

“Really?” I whisper, frowning.

I know Tripp is now in his thirties and has been in the game a long time, but I guess I didn’t realize that he was even considering walking away from hockey. He’s a true staple when it comes to the Sharks. I can’t even imagine the team without him.

“My hips are pretty worn out, darlin’,” he says with a slight chuckle. “I’m practically a dinosaur, really.”

If he’s been in pain, he hides it well. I’ve watched him in a few games recently, and he held himself together like absolutely nothing was wrong. I suppose he has to though because if his opponents sensed his weakness, they’d zero in on it.

I dip my body back slightly and slide my palms down either side of his body, skimming them along his flesh until they land on his hips.

“Does it hurt right now?” I whisper, working my fingers over his hips gently .

“Nah, I’m fine.” His voice is raspy, and he drags in a long breath as a result of my touch.

I continue working my fingers over his hips, feeling his cock harden beneath me, which sends my brain into a frenzy, but I try to fight off the dizziness and carry on.

Scooting almost completely off his lap and sliding my hands a little lower, I rub my palms along his thighs.

“What about your legs? They must get so tired after all the work you do on the ice.” My voice is throatier than it probably needs to be, but taking charge like this and having him at my mercy beneath me … it’s doing something to me.

His pupils are huge now, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob while he swallows sharply.

“Yeah, they get pretty sore,” he utters, his lips parting.

I massage his thighs slowly, working my hands over his huge muscles, but making sure not to graze his cock. Not yet anyway.

I move my palms higher and higher, moving them slightly inward, but still not enough to know if he’s turned on or not.

Suddenly, his hand slides over mine, and he tilts his chin up slightly as a low growl falls from his lips.

He uses his hand to graze my palm over the bulge in his trunks …

and I have my answer. He’s definitely turned on.

And feeling that … makes the throb between my legs intensify.

“That’s what you do to me, Freya,” he utters, rubbing my hand against his steel dick once more. “Just from one touch, my cock is standing up straight just for you.”

“Tripp.” His name rushes from my lips, and when he drops his hand from mine, I shock him when I reach for the waistband of his shorts and peel them just enough so that his cock springs out.

Wrapping my hand around his length, I thrust my hand back and forth.

I may have touched him through his pants the day we got married, but this is the first time I’ve had my hand on his huge, bare cock.

“Fuuuck,” slips from his teeth in a hiss. “Just like that, baby. Stroke my cock. Feels so good.”

His palms run up my thighs, and his teeth grind together .

“You’re so hard,” I practically pant, turned on just from watching him fall apart at my touch. “I want to make you come.”

“You keep jerking my dick like that, and my cum is going to fill this fucking hot tub,” he growls before his palms grab my waist. “I need to fucking be inside of you, Freya.”

“Not yet,” I whisper. “Small, sexy steps, Talmage. And that means no sex … yet.”

“Can I at least eat your fucking pussy?” he grunts desperately. “Please fucking say yes.”

“I want to make you come.” I pout, jerking his dick harder.

“You can make me come while you ride my face, darlin,” he drawls before he stands up, pulling me up with him.

He lifts me up, and my legs wrap around his waist before he walks us out of the hot tub and toward the back of the house. What I don’t expect is a freaking sauna to be brightly lit and waiting for us until he kicks the door open and walks us inside.