Chapter 14

Tripp

I lay down next to Millie, pulling her against me until her head is resting on my chest. I’m not ready to let go of this moment, not yet. My dick is still hard and I need time to get myself under control which won’t be easy. I have her sweet taste in my mouth, her scent in my nose, and her sounds replaying over and over in my head.

I’ve never in my life wanted someone’s orgasm like I wanted Millie’s. It was as if I was a man possessed and her release was my salvation. Now that I’ve gotten what we both needed so desperately, it’s hard to walk away.

Literally.

I just need a little longer to feel her close to me. A little longer to be wrapped in her scent. A little longer to live in this bubble of just the two of us.

She hasn’t said anything, but her fingers are softly tracing my chest, keeping me turned on. In an effort to distract myself from breaking any rules, I take in her bedroom.

It’s as eclectic as the rest of her apartment, a cozy sanctuary where every detail seems to tell a story. The mismatched nightstands, each with its own unique charm, flank a wrought iron bed that, despite its vintage feel, blends seamlessly with the room's character. One of the nightstands holds a book, ready to be read, a reminder of her love for quiet moments of escape. The queen-sized bed is dressed in a patchwork quilt of jewel tones, each vibrant square adding a burst of color and personality. The bed is decorated with an array of feisty red pillows, creating a space that feels both inviting and thoughtfully curated. The cream-colored walls provide a perfect backdrop for the colorful photos that hang above the bed, each one a quote, possibly from her favorite books, framed and displayed with care. The room feels warm and inviting, with heavy curtains drawn.

The overall vibe is one of warmth and individuality, a reflection of Millie’s unique style and the life she’s created within these walls.

And I want to be a fucking part of it.

Millie lifts her head, her sated eyes connecting with mine. “About Oliver,” she begins.

I press my finger against her lips and force a grin I don’t feel. “You should go out with him, Millie. Of course, you should. This thing we have going, it’s all in fun. There are no feelings or attachments. You’re helping me and I’m helping you. That’s it. You deserve to go out and find someone.”

The words taste like acid coming out. I don’t mean any of them. At least there are feelings, on my end, but I will never make her feel compelled to me. That’s not how relationships work. They shouldn’t happen out of pity or obligation.

If Oliver Moore wants to be with Millie and she wants to be with him, it’s not my place to stand in the way. Just because I’ve felt this attraction toward her for a long time, doesn’t mean she feels the same. I know she doesn’t. How could she after dating my brother?

The thought of Oliver and her being together feels like a knife in my heart—an ache of feeling like I’ve lost something.

Something I never had.

Millie stands up and adjusts her sundress as she clears her throat. “Right, as long as we have that settled.”

Fuck, I thought maybe, just maybe she’d protest. That she would say she’s starting to feel something for me, but I think it’s just the hopeless romantic I so desperately want to be. Like the hero of my book.

Just as she opens the bedroom door—her not-so-subtle way of kicking me out—an idea springs to my mind.

I stand up and nod as I exit her bedroom.

I may not be able to express my feelings to Millie, but my hero can. When she reads what I send her, she’ll be reading about my feelings for her .

“I’ll send a few chapters in the next few days,” I say, grinning down at her.

Her eyes light up and it makes me want to pump my fist in the air. She’s going to read the words I am too chicken shit to ever say to her. She may realize it and even if she doesn’t, at least the words are spoken.

One way or another.

“I can’t wait,” she says, opening the door.

“That makes two of us.”

She follows me down through the bookstore and unlocks the door to let me out. Before I walk through the door, I lean down and press a soft kiss to her lips.

“Next time I’m around, save us both some time and keep your panties in the drawer,” I whisper. Confusion flashes across her face and I grin. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to get between you and Oliver. Help is help, little bunny.” I step outside and nod. “Sweet dreams.”

“Damn, it’s been so busy today,” I say, leaning against the counter in the kitchen.

Griffin wipes his brow with his towel and nods. “Yeah, but it’s good business.”

I’m sure it is, but I’d rather be home writing more. I sent Millie a few chapters and I’m anxiously awaiting her reply.

We haven’t spoken since the other night and it’s killing me. I want to show up at her place and break her rules. I want to know what it feels like to be buried deep inside her tight pussy. I want to remind her what it feels like to have my mouth on her.

When she told me I was the first man to ever eat her out, I could’ve come. The thought that someone else could get a taste of her makes me feral. I want to be the only one who knows her taste.

“Kicked ass today, Griff,” Callum says, stepping into the kitchen and breaking my thoughts.

“Couldn’t have done it without Tripp’s help,” Griffin replies.

Callum looks at me and a grin almost hits his lips. It doesn’t, because Callum rarely smiles and if he does it’s because something great happened at the brewery.

“Hey, you good for the party tomorrow?” Anya asks, stepping into the kitchen and breaking my thoughts.

“Of course, I am, baby,” Griffin says from behind the line.

"I am the master," Brock declares with a playful smirk, holding a clear pitcher of amber beer aloft.

"Master of drinking?" Griffin teases, his laughter bubbling up as he leans casually against the kitchen line, a knowing grin on his face.

"Well, yeah, but that’s not what I’m talking about." Brock’s eyes gleam with mischief as he reaches for a row of empty glasses lined up on the counter. With a practiced hand, he pours a splash of the beer into each glass, the sound of the liquid filling the room. The rich, malty aroma wafts up, teasing our senses. "Try that."

We each grab a glass, curiosity piqued, just as Shepherd strolls in, his presence commanding as always.

“Wait, let me get Shep some,” Brock says, rushing to pour another glass. His excitement is palpable, his movements quick and eager.

Once we’re all holding a glass, we take a collective sip. The room falls into a brief, stunned silence as the taste hits us—smooth, complex, with a perfect balance of hops and sweetness that lingers on the tongue.

"Holy shit," Shepherd says, his eyes wide as he stares at Brock, disbelief written across his face.

“Yeah, I’m gonna second that statement,” Callum adds, taking another long sip, his usually stoic expression betraying a hint of amazement.

Brock stands tall, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest, soaking in the praise. His eyes sparkle with triumph.

"Brock, wow, this is seriously amazing," Anya says, her voice laced with genuine admiration as she swirls the beer in her glass, savoring the aroma.

"Yeah man, it’s the best thing you’ve made in a long time," I chime in, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. The flavor is still dancing on my palate, leaving me craving more.

Brock raises his arms in a mock display of grandeur. "Well, am I the master or what?"

Laughter erupts around the kitchen, the camaraderie thick in the air—except for Callum, who simply rolls his eyes, though a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Get this brewing and we’ll come up with a name,” Callum replies, always the practical one, but even he can’t hide his approval.

“If you can get enough for tomorrow night, we could serve it at the party as a special introduction,” Anya suggests, her eyes lighting up with the possibilities. The idea hangs in the air, full of promise.

“That’s actually a really great idea,” Shepherd agrees, nodding his head, his usual calm demeanor slipping into excitement.

Griffin downs the last of his small cup and nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, this might be my new favorite. It would be great for making beer batter.”

Callum points to Griffin, nodding in agreement. “Now that’s a hell of an idea.”

“You have any more?” I ask, already eyeing the pitcher, eager for another taste of what might just be Brock’s masterpiece.

Brock comes over and wraps his arm around my shoulder. “Come on now, baby brother. You think I’d let everyone taste this masterpiece without having more? Maybe you should hang back tonight and give me a hand for once. See what it’s like to be brewing.”

“Yeah, our rush is over and I’ve got plenty of servers on,” Griffin says.

Anya claps looking around. “It’s been a minute since we introduced a new beer. It’s like having a baby.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a really good analogy,” Shep says with a grin.

“You know what I mean. It’s exciting and new,” Anya corrects.

“When we came up with the idea for Atta Boy, this is exactly what I imagined. We’ve come a long way since we first opened, but one thing will forever remain unchanged—family. That’s what this brewery is all about. It’s our family doing what we love and doing it together,” Callum states, looking around.

“Family is everything. I can’t wait until August is old enough to be working here alongside me,” Shepherd says, grinning as he imagines his son being a part of this.

Everyone starts talking and I stand there watching it all. The passion and love they have for this brewery is unmatched. It makes me feel guilty for not feeling the same. I should feel the same. This is supposed to be my legacy.

Why do I not feel it?

“You see, Tripp, this is what Atta Boy is about. Our family working together and being damn proud of it,” Callum says, standing next to me.

“I know,” I reply.

“Good, so take Brock up on his offer. It’s time for you to see where you fit in here,” he says, slapping my back.

Where do I fit in? I love my family. I adore being in their company, but do I fit in?

Maybe it’s time I try.