“Bathroom?” I asked.
Tripp laughed. “Scarlett, I said this is where I crash, not where I live. There’s a difference.”
“So you have a home.”
“Are you worried about that?” Tripp asked. “You need a guy with a big house. Fancy car. Good job.”
“Stop it,” I said.
“Come and make me,” he said.
He grabbed me and pulled me tight. Our lips were an inch from touching. His hands slithered down my back to my ass. He squeezed again and groaned.
“I can’t wait until band practice is over,” he said. “And that’s something I never say.”
“Oh yeah?” I pushed from Tripp and lifted my shirt a little. I slipped my thumbs into my pants and pushed, showing Tripp my panties and that I had listened to him. “I can’t wait until band practice is over either.”
Tripp’s mouth fell open and I took my chance and walked by him. He surprisingly didn’t grab me and throw me to the bed. It was more seductive to be able to walk away from Tripp but it would have been hotter for him to grab me.
I stopped at the top step and looked over my shoulder. He stared at me but his eyes were a little dazed.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m cool,” Tripp said. “I need a drink.”
“Water?”
He laughed. “Not this week. Trust me, Scarlett. Not this fucking week.”
His lip curled at the word week. I had touched on a nerve. I let it go, again, but I knew something was going on with Tripp. Maybe he faced the same kind of stuff I did. Decisions, regrets, secrets.
I moved down the steps and at the last one, I had an image flash into my mind.
His hands are so sweaty. Like he had them in water before touching me. But the smell… the horrible smell. Sweat. Heavy breathing. Just don’t say my name. Don’t ruin my name. Please don’t ruin my name…
“Scarlett?”
I gasped.
I looked up and saw Tripp dangling one of his feet right over my head.
“You getting down?” he asked.
“Yup.”
I jumped from the last step and moved to find Maggie. She stood at the drums, running a finger along one of the cymbals. Tatum sat behind the kit, ready to play. Logan traded the acoustic guitar back to the bass.
“Guess I’m late,” Tripp whispered as he walked by me.
He put his guitar on, kneeled down, took a large drink from the bottle of vodka, and stood up. I noticed the way Tatum and Logan looked at each other behind Tripp’s back.
They were concerned for Tripp.
And right then, so was I.
My heart raced in a different way for Tripp.
Something was wrong. And the vodka was there to mask it.
Before the tension could grow or anyone could say something, Tripp called for a song and Tatum counted off with the drumsticks.
When the song started, it was a raw sound. On stage, the band had the venues sound system to balance their sound. But in the garage it was natural. I slowly walked to the front of the garage, next to Maggie, and we stood there listening to a song I never heard before.
Maggie leaned in and said, “I never heard this one. Must be new.”
Tripp turned around, his head bobbing, looking at Tatum. He then looked at Logan, eyeing the way his fingers moved on the neck of the bass. Then he took to the mic and started singing. His voice was so amazing. He could make it sound smooth or add a little roughness to it, whatever the song needed.
At the chorus, Tripp closed his eyes and belted out lyrics, holding long notes, teetering on the edge of screaming. No matter what, it was an awesome song. And the lyrics I picked up on had more meaning that just becoming the next DownCrash hit. After the first chorus, they played again, Tripp checking on the band. Then the entire song fell apart when Tripp slid his hand up the guitar and screeched out a few notes, standing with his lips to the mic. Logan followed next, doing the same with his bass and Tatum went off in his own way, breaking into a speedy drum solo.
Logan stepped to Tripp, saying something I couldn’t make out. Tripp nodded, smiled, and then reached for his bottle of vodka. He took a drink and then turned, throwing his guitar pick at Tatum.
“Dude!” he yelled and Tatum finally stopped.
“What?” Tatum yelled.
“We need the next verse,” Tripp said.
“We have it,” Tatum said. “You need lyrics, bro.”
“Yeah. Let’s do this acoustic for a few minutes, okay?”
Logan stripped himself of his bass and Tatum stood from the drum kit.
To my surprise, the three guys then sat all facing each other, each one holding a guitar. Tripp looked at me and smiled.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I didn’t realize how you guys did all this,” I said.
“You all play guitar?” Maggie asked.
“Well,” Tatum said, “when we were in high school, we were told to keep quiet more times than not, so if we wanted to practice, we had to go acoustic.”
“It’s more fun,” Logan said. “If you can write a good song on an acoustic guitar, then it’ll sound good plugged in.”
“You ladies can take a seat,” Tripp said. “If you want.”
“Of course,” I said.
Maggie and I sat down.
Tripp had a small table next to him with a notebook and pen. We watched as they started playing the new song, strumming the same chords but the song sounded different. Tatum strummed and tapped the tips of his fingers off the guitar, actually creating a drumbeat.
It was amazing.
It was… really hot.
Tripp sang with a clear voice, verse into chorus. When he got back to the verse, they stopped, and slowly, they strummed the chords one a time, letting Tripp find his inspiration and work through the song line by line.
There were undertones of remembering, of memory, how pain could exist no matter what. I could tell by the way Logan and Tatum looked at Tripp that something special was happening. Every time Tripp stopped and went back to the beginning of the line or verse, Logan and Tatum followed. They didn’t speak. They didn’t stop playing. I lost track of time and when Maggie’s cell phone went off, we both realized it had been almost an hour.
Tripp penned the last of the lyrics and then went through them in his notebook.
“This is good,” he said.
“Really good,” I added.
He looked at me and the look in his eyes took my heart to another place. Tripp was just something special. More special than he probably knew. But maybe I could tell him.
“Okay,” he said and stood up. “Enough on this one for now. Let’s get loud again.”
Tatum took the guitar off his lap and spun it around in his hand, somehow keeping it from dropping. His eyes were on Maggie as he did it.
Maggie batted her eyes and the sexual tension started to build again.
The band took their spots and Tripp said something to Tatum. A few seconds later, they were playing a song I recognized. A song from the club. The night Tripp called me on stage. The night Andy punched Tripp.
Speaking of which, I could still see a small cut at the corner of Tripp’s mouth.
They played and Tripp sang like it was nothing. They obviously played the song hundreds of times, but seeing them play it with such passion and ease was amazing.
When the song ended, Tripp called an end to band practice. That meant they each started messing around in their own musical ways. Tatum tapped along his drums, looking for new patterns and technique. His eyes focused on the drums, the cymbals, the sound. Logan turned around and faced his amp, his head nodding as he plucked the thick notes on his bass.
And of course, Tripp strummed chords up and down the neck, his eyes dazed off. His lips casually moved, trying to find the next set of lyrics that mattered to him and to anyone who heard and understood their music.
He had me in a trance as I walked towards the mic. I wasn’t sure
if he noticed me or not so I put my hands around the skinny neck of the mic stand and moved it out of the way.
“You like holding things like that?” Tripp asked.
“It’s not that skinny,” I whispered, “trust me, I would know.”
Tripp laughed and when Logan and Tatum looked at me, my cheeks started to turn red.
He went for the vodka bottle again, his guitar hanging around his neck. It looked right. It looked sexy. He drank and drank, smacking his lips together, and then offered me the bottle.
“No thanks,” I said. “I have to drive.”
“Suit yourself,” he said and took another drink.
I looked at Tatum and saw Tatum staring at Tripp. When his eyes moved and met mine, he shook his head for a few seconds and then nodded for me to go to the back of the garage.
I nodded, knowing I’d need to find a way to break away from Tripp.
Maggie grabbed my wrist and tugged at me.
“Scarlett, I need to talk to you,” she said.
The band started to clean up, getting their instruments put away, rolling up chords, taking care of their equipment. Tripp went back to his notebook and started reading the lyrics back to Logan and Tatum, looking for feedback.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I have to take off,” Maggie said and pouted.
“Why?”
“My best friend from high school, Anna, called me. She needs to talk. Life stuff.”
“Life stuff? Is she okay?”
“I don’t know,” Maggie said. “Probably.”
“But we’re with DownCrash,” I whispered.
“No, you’re with Tripp. Enjoy yourself. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I never do,” I said and smiled.
Maggie said her goodbyes to everyone, leaving Tatum’s mouth open and his eyes racing as he tried to figure out Maggie. That’s how she worked. She either went for the throat or let someone chase her.
I walked Maggie to the door and as she left, Tripp appeared at the door, his hand slipping over mine as I held the doorknob.
“You’re staying,” he said and nibbled on my ear.
Heat flooded my body and I bent my knees. “What makes you think that?”
“Because, we have a deal. I want to see those panties.”
“I want to see those tattoos.”
“Well, we just need to kick these other two out,” Tripp said. He turned and yelled, “Logan! Tatum! Practice is over. Get the fuck out!”
My mouth fell open. That’s one way to do it.
Both Logan and Tatum offered Tripp their middle fingers. Logan finished packing up and grabbed Tripp’s notebook. He walked it to Tripp and said, “What should we call this song?”
Tripp’s eyes went to the book. My eyes went to Tatum, who stood near the back of the garage, his eyes on me. I slipped away and made my way to him. When I stood a foot away, I realized just how sexy he was. He didn’t have as many tattoos as Tripp, but his left arm was a half sleeve from his shoulder to his elbow. His lip ring and crystal clear blue eyes did the rest though.
“Hey,” I whispered.
Tatum looked beyond me for a second, his tongue flicking at his lip ring.
I wondered what it was like to make out with someone with a lip ring.
I shut my eyes for a second.
Who the hell was I becoming?
“Okay, listen,” Tatum said. “I know you noticed Tripp drinking.”
I nodded.
“It’s kind of bad, okay? He needs someone this week.”
“Just this week?” I asked.
“He’ll tell you when he’s ready, or if he wants you to know. It’s not my place. I’m just letting you know that the drinking’s going to get worse. Day and night, non stop.”
“He’ll kill himself,” I said.
Tatum shrugged his shoulders. “Sometimes I think that’s what he wants.”
I looked back and saw Tripp pointing to the notebook. He looked… okay. He held the bottle of vodka by its small neck. When he took a drink I realized the bottle was almost empty. That meant he drank an entire bottle of vodka in the hour I was there.
“I think he tries during this one week,” Tatum said. “But as fucked up as it sounds, this is when he writes the best songs, too.”
“And you guys go along with it?” I asked. I felt my blood starting the boil. Why didn’t his band step in and help?
“It’s not like that,” Tatum said. “Trust me, when you find out, you’ll understand. Okay?”
I looked at Tatum. His eyes were honest and worried. He swallowed and took a deep breath.
Was he holding back tears?
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just… I don’t know, I just met Tripp and I feel like he’s changing my life.”
“Well, you’re fucking with his life too. In a good way, I think.”
“Oh yeah?”
Tatum nodded. “Put it this way… he loves to kiss and tell. Or I guess I could say, fuck and tell. But when he came home after that night with you, he told me you two looked at stars. And he wouldn’t say another thing.”
My heart tingled, matching the feeling inside my stomach and between my legs. Tripp had romance buried inside him, in his own way.
“So what do I do?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Tatum said. “There’s nothing you can do. I’m just letting you know. It’ll get worse. And if you’re with him through it, you’ll understand.”
I opened my mouth to say something else and Tatum touched my shoulder, squeezing for a second, and then was on the move. He strutted his way to the front of the garage and offered input on the song title. I stood in the background again, watching the three members of DownCrash make a decision.
I wished Maggie had stayed.
Then again, I needed to figure this out on my own. Part of my problem had always been people’s opinions and thoughts. That’s part of the reason why I held my deepest secret so close to my chest. I refused to be treated like a victim or to be treated differently. And maybe that’s how Tripp felt. Whatever pain clawed at his insides, he couldn’t let it out just yet.
Logan and Tatum left. Tripp closed his notebook and tossed it to a small table against the wall and then motioned me towards him. When I got close enough, his arm went around me and he pulled me close.
He was a little drunk and he offered me a drink again. I declined, again, and Tripp finished off the bottle of vodka.
“It’s good,” he whispered. “So, so good.”
“Why so much?” I asked. “Hiding something?”
Tripp looked right at me. “I’ll tell when you tell.”
“Tell you what?”
“Whatever you’re hiding,” he said. He touched my nose with a finger and smiled. “And Scarlett, I know it goes well beyond string bean.”
“Yeah, well maybe it doesn’t,” I said.
My heart twisted, feeling as though it had thorns wrapped around it.
“Soon enough,” Tripp said. “The world will know everything. At least we can hope.”
I wasn’t sure what the hell he was talking about but his mood changed as he slid to face me. His eyes were lit up, fierce and sexy. He looked left to right, at his arms, then looked down at me. His fingers touched the bottom of my shirt and lifted it. His pointer finger touched just below my belly button. As he drew a straight line down, I groaned, finally able to release some of my sexual frustration. His finger pulled at the button my jeans, undoing it with ease. He pushed at the top of my zipper and managed to move it down a little, just enough to see my purple panties. Their light color wasn’t so light between my legs thanks to the moisture Tripp created.
He touched the top of the panties, teasing me by moving left to right. He gently put his fingers, one by one, into my panties. I gripped his arms, my hands tight against his muscles and tattoos. When we looked at each other, I knew there was no stopping it.
Tripp’s fingers continued down, running along my smooth skin until he fou
nd wetness. His fingers curled, my body so sensitive to his perfect touch. I throbbed and ached as his middle finger touched my tender hole. He smiled and pushed, gently penetrating me. My warmth and wetness accepted him as my nails dug into his arm. I felt my toes curl and my body thrust, wanting him so bad. He made small circles and slid deeper and deeper, until all of his finger was inside me. He had his entire hand against me and as his middle finger moved, I felt pressure against my clit, exemplifying the pleasure.
When he added his ring finger, I whispered his name.
“Tell me, Scarlett,” he whispered. “Tell me how it feels…”
He put his head to mine. His breath smelled of vodka and desire. I licked my lips, trying to keep my mouth from running dry.
Two fingers inside me now. The pressure and pleasure increasing wildly. Tripp twisting his fingers as they move. He knew exactly what I wanted and how I needed it without speaking a word. Our heads were still touching, his eyes so dark and deep, wanting to be honest, it drove my body wild. When he started moving faster, adding harder thrusts with his fingers, I clawed at his arms more. My eyes moved side to side, realizing that I was holding onto his tattoos. The colors, the shapes, the ink and how hot the entire moment was finally caught up to me. I was in the garage that DownCrash used to practice. Where Tripp wrote songs. Where Tripp played songs. Where the feeling of music, power, honesty, and the touch of sex between Tripp and I lingered.
I looked down and saw his hand inside my pants and panties. I saw a little of myself and could see the way Tripp’s hand moved, matching the intense pleasure.
Tripp nudged my head with his nose and then kissed my forehead. When I looked back up at him, his lips were attacking mine. The kiss started as hot as I needed it to be. The tingling sensation that started in my mouth thanks to Tripp’s tongue ended between my legs thanks to Tripp’s fingers.
I started to come and let out a whimpering sigh, losing my breath for a few seconds. I thrust myself hard at Tripp. His other hand touched at my lower back, holding me tight to his hand and body. My mouth was open as I moaned over and over, going with the heavy pulses of my sex as the orgasm rocked me in a way I never felt one do before. Tripp kept his lips to mine, his mouth open too. We didn’t kiss, our lips just bumped into each other’s over and over.
The Stronger, Safer Kind (The Boys of DownCrash #1) (new adult contemporary rockstar romance) Page 10
