Chapter 26 I'm so fucking nervous right now. Me. Tripp Talmage. To some, that wouldn't prove anything, but those who know me-or fans who have followed my career-they'd know I don't get nervous. It's not in my bones. Yet here I am, sitting across the table from the most breathtaking woman, and I can hardly form a sentence. When Freya texted me this morning, saying that her in-laws wanted to take the kids to stay at a hotel with a pool for the weekend before Aviana's surgery, I never expected her to ask me if I was free to hang out. But she did, and so here we are, sitting at my table, eating the chicken Parmesan I made for us. "You know, this is really good," she says, wiping her mouth and setting the fork down. "And I hope this doesn't sound bitchy, but I didn't expect you to be a cook." "No offense taken," I say with a deep chuckle. "I don't have a never-ending list of shit I can cook. It's more like ... ten things, tops. But I'll tell you, I've pretty much mastered those ten things." I don't tell her that I've had to master them because I'm almost always alone. I don't want her to feel bad for me or look at me like I'm pathetic. "I'd say you have." She smiles. "Thanks for having me over." Something has been bugging me, but I'm scared to ask her because I'm not sure I'll like the answer. Inhaling and exhaling quickly, I go for it. "Do, uh ... your in-laws know you were going to come over here?" I feel like a dick the second the words leave my lips, and I wish I could take it back. She doesn't owe me any explanation-ever. So, why did I feel the need to ask? There's concern on her face, but it's mixed with joy. "Believe it or not, Helen is the main reason why I am here," she says, the corner of her lips turning up. "She and I had a good conversation, and even though I think I'll always feel guilty because I don't want anyone to think I'm trying to replace Jamie, hearing her words helped me. A lot." She pauses, a bit of emotion filling her face. "Also ... all three kids know I'm here tonight." "They do?" I can barely even whisper it because I'm surprised. "Yep," she says sweetly. "Cane was the first to talk to me the other day." She laughs. "He heard us on the phone when I called you about the tickets. And the other two? I talked with them this morning." "And how'd that go?" I hang on to every word coming from her lips, suddenly unable to eat. "Let's just say, all three were pretty persistent that I spend some time with you and they go with their grandparents." She stops, biting down on her bottom lip. "Please ... don't make me regret telling my kids, Tripp." When her last words come out in a weak whisper, I push my chair back and stand. Taking the few short steps next to her, I kneel down and cup her hand in mine. "I won't, darlin'. You have my word." I bring her hand to my mouth, pressing my lips to it. "Thank you for being here." She smiles down at me, her eyes glossing over a bit before she bends forward and throws her arms around me, pulling me in for a hug. I'm not afraid I'll hurt her. I would never. I'm scared that I'll get more attached to her and her kids and she'll push me away. But even as cliché as it sounds ... this is a risk that's worth taking. She is a risk worth taking. I look at myself in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric that's stretched against my chest before pulling my hair up into a ponytail and then looping it around into a bun. When Tripp told me to bring my swimsuit, I almost died when I thought about how I didn't own anything that was even a little sexy. I mostly have all one-pieces to cover up my stretch marks, but when I was going through my suits, I found one that I'd never worn. A tankini that shows off only the bottom of my stomach with a high-waisted bottom. It's far from sexy, but it's the closest thing to it that I'm going to feel comfortable in. Grabbing the towel from my bag, I drape it around my body and walk out of the bathroom. This seems crazy-to be headed out to get in the hot tub with Tripp. But he is my husband, and I suppose there are worse things we could be doing. So, I'm going with it. When I round the corner, he's standing in the kitchen with his palms on the countertop. His eyes take me in, and he smirks. "You seriously brought a towel from home?" He narrows his eyes. "Is that ... a Disney towel?" I look down sheepishly but then shrug. "I'm a mom. I always bring things that I probably don't need." I slap a hand against my forehead, cringing. "I was afraid I'd be changing in the bathroom and I wouldn't find a towel. I didn't want to have to walk out without one. Figured this was the safest bet." Pushing his palms from the counter, he starts toward me. His eyes drink me in, but his smirk is gone, and replacing it is an intense look. When he gets to me, he stands still for a moment until, suddenly ... He yanks the towel from my body. "Much better," he says, eyeing over his work. "Though I wish you'd take the suit off. You know, I almost didn't even tell you to bring one." "And why is that?" "Because then you'd be standing here, naked, right now." He reaches out, brushing his fingertips along the fabric on my stomach. "Don't ever cover up, Freya. You're too fucking perfect for that." I blush and laugh at the same time, widening my eyes at him. "You, sir, have never seen me naked." I wince. "Which is pretty insane because we are, you know ... married." "So, let's change that," he drawls quickly, not missing a beat. "Lose the suit, darlin'." My mouth hangs open. "No way in hell!" I look down at myself, wrapping my arms around my front. "I've had three kids, Tripp. The women you're used to being with? I'll bet their stomachs don't jiggle if you slap them, and they certainly don't look like a faded road map." I sigh. "Trust me, you want me to cover up." His eyes darken, and he bends a little closer. "If I wasn't so set on not pissing you off tonight, I'd rip that fucking suit right in half right now, Freya." His voice is deep and calculated. "And after I did? I'd fucking worship every single inch of you with my mouth too." A shiver runs through my body, hardening my nipples, and I move my hands up higher to try to hide them, but I'm sure it's no use. He sees it, too, because he smirks before he puts his hand on my waist. "Come on." Turning away from me, he starts down the hallway. I follow slowly to not seem too eager, and he leads us out onto the patio, where there's a hot tub. Next to it is an impressively large in-ground pool with the cover over it, like it's closed down for the winter. "Sucks you have such a beautiful pool and live in a state where you only get to use it ... what, three months out of the year?" "I don't swim," he utters, sliding the hot tub cover off. I frown. "So, you just enjoy the hot tub instead?" I smile. "I'll admit, I'm the same way. Unless a pool is, like, a minimum of eighty-six degrees, my ass isn't going in it." I move onto the steps of the hot tub before swinging my legs over the edge and lowering myself down. It's so hot compared to the cold November air that it almost prickles my skin, and I feel like a bunch of teensy needles are poking me. Once I'm fully submerged though, it feels freaking incredible. When he tugs his T-shirt over his head, I swallow roughly before my eyes move downward. Through his swim trunks, I can see just how long he is. Which is no surprise since I've not only felt it under his jeans, but seen it on a screen too. That still doesn't make it any easier to look away though. "I don't really use the hot tub either," he utters as he climbs in, lowering himself much slower than I did. "Oh," I say, leaning my head against the cushion. "Did the pool and hot tub just come with the house or ..." Sitting across from me, he rests his arms on the edge of the hot tub. His hot gaze is on mine, and I pull in a breath. "No. I had them put in a few years ago," he answers. "My sister has two kids. I figured, when they come to visit, they might want to swim." The more time I spend with this man, the more surprised I am by how truly selfless he is. "Tell me more about your sister," I say before smiling. "How old are her kids? And are they boys? Or girls? Or one of each?" "A boy and a girl." He doesn't smile proudly when he tells me, but I can tell he is proud. He's just not the type to boast. "Jack is four, and Jenna is two." The thing I've noticed about Tripp is ninety percent of the time, his answers are bare minimum. He says what he needs to say and nothing more. But it doesn't make me feel like he doesn't want to talk. It's just who he is. And to be honest, I find it sort of endearing. "Do they live in Maine?" I can't stop asking questions. I want to know more and more about this man. I want to know about his family. Everything. "Nah, they live in Alabama." He drags a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. "She and her husband live about an hour away from my mom." I shouldn't ask anything else. I shouldn't poke and prod, but curiosity killed the cat, and I find myself wanting to learn everything about this mysterious man who's across from me. "You said you lost your dad when you were a kid and that your mom raised you and your sister alone." I almost choke the words out, second-guessing saying them at all. "When did he die?" He breaks eye contact now, looking over toward the ocean. "When I was eleven." "Oh gosh, Tripp," I whisper. "I'm so sorry. And I hope it's okay that I asked. I didn't mean to be pushy." His ocean-blue eyes move back to mine now, and he gives a subtle shake of his head. "Nothing to be sorry about, darlin'." He flashes me a small, reassuring smile. "We're married, you know. So, you know what that means. You can ask me anything you want." "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. Setting me down on the bench, he tugs my bottoms off before wrapping his hand around his dick and working his hand up and down his hard length. "Spread your legs, baby. I'm fucking starving," he says gruffly and drops to his knees. Out of pure and greedy desperation, I part my legs, and for a moment, he hangs back. "Such a fucking pretty little pussy," he utters with a dazed look in his eyes. "Hold on tight, baby. I'm going to fucking consume you until you can't take it any longer." When he moves forward, burying his face between my thighs and spreading me further apart, I can't stop the slew of moans that come from my lips. He devours me, licking my pussy like he's taken a goddamn class on going down on women. I'd probably be jealous, wondering about where he learned to be this amazing at it, but it feels too good for me to even form a thought that deep. "Tripp," I whimper, thrusting my hands into his hair as my body is splayed out on this bench. "Fuck ... Tripp." His palms run up my sides, and he grips my flesh roughly, using my skin to thrust my center back and forth against his face. Deep, desperate groans come from his lips, but I can't reach his cock to help him ease his ache. "Stroke your cock." The filthy words come from my mouth, and I'm not even the least bit ashamed. I'm too turned on from that, and I can't think of anything hotter than him pleasuring himself while he pleasures me. His hand drops from my side, and within seconds, it slides up and down his length. His mouth doesn't miss a beat as he glides his tongue back and forth, bringing me to the edge, and I know it won't be long till I'm falling over. "I'm so close." My eyes shift from his mouth between my legs and his hand making a jerking motion. "I want to watch your dick explode, Tripp. Please ... give that to me, and I'll come all over your face." I don't know if it's my words or if he's just at the point of no return, but one last stroke, and cum shoots from the tip of his dick, spraying on his own hand, and I swear I feel some hit my ankle. That's it. That's all it takes, and I'm bucking my pussy against his face and tugging his hair while I cry out his name. "Tripp," I practically shriek out, throwing my head back as black spots begin to dance in my vision. "Shit ... Tripp." My nails dig into his scalp, and my entire body quivers in pure ecstasy while I rock against him like I never want this orgasm to end. Eventually, it does though. But unlike before, when I dry-humped his leg, I don't try to run away, and I also don't feel like I'm going to cry. Instead, I smile down at him. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Well, that was fun," I say, still out of breath. "Definitely would do it again." "Damn straight you would." He crawls upward, putting his palms on either side of me. "Because your pussy was the best thing I've eaten in a long time. And now ... I'm going to have frequent cravings. And just so you know, I don't have much willpower when it comes to my cravings, sweet thing." He kisses me, and I'm not even grossed out because he makes everything so damn sexy. "I know you said no sex because baby steps and all, but do you have time to watch a movie?" he asks, tugging me onto his lap on the seat beside me. He pushes my hair over my shoulders and kisses my neck. "I'm not ready for you to go yet, darlin'." Wrapping my arms around his neck, I can't fight the foolish smile that spreads across my face. It's so big that my cheeks ache. "I'm not ready to leave yet either, Coach." "Good," he whispers. "Because I wasn't going to let you if you tried." His eyes narrow slightly. "Not this time." Maybe it's because I know him better now than I did the last time I was here or I've seen how he is with my kids. Whatever the reason, I trust him now more than I did then. And that trust is making me look at him in a whole new light. In Tripp's bed, we watch Fool's Gold because it's one of my favorite movies and he let me choose, but I'm having a hard time concentrating. When I massaged his legs, I meant it to be sexy. Now I'm wondering if he really is in pain. I grab the remote from beside us and sit up. "Can I ask you something?" "Maybe. Is it that you'd like to ride my face? Okay ... fine, I guess that's all right," he drawls, giving me a playful wink. "I'm kidding. Sure, go ahead." I gently rub my hand along his thigh, moving it to his hip. "Is your body, like ... actually in pain every time you play?" For some reason, I'm whispering. It just seems like such a sobering subject. "I'm sorry if this is rude to ask. Please don't feel like you have to tell me." The look on his face tells me he's genuinely surprised I asked, and he sits up slightly, bringing his pillow up on the bedframe. "I've been playing pro hockey for eleven years," he says, giving me an almost-sad grin. "And before that, I played hockey year-round just to make sure I got the chance to make it to the NHL. My body has been through a lot. And while I take good care of myself, what I do for work isn't exactly easy on me." "Yeah," I whisper, dragging my hand up and down his leg. "It may sound ignorant, but I never thought about that. I never thought about the injuries and all the repetition of the same movements." I lean forward, pressing a kiss to his chest. "I'm sorry that you're going through it. It can't be easy." "No big deal. Lot of worse things going on in the world than my problems." He shakes my words off-just like I knew he would. He reaches forward, rubbing his fingers on my chin. "You know what would make it better?" "What?" I eye him over skeptically. "If you sat on my face." He winks. Smacking his stomach, I grab the remote and push play. Fool's Gold starts to play again, and I settle back, nuzzling into Tripp's side. For a man who is the best listener, he certainly doesn't like to talk about himself.