ONE MORE TRIPP

Prologue

Three years ago...

Somewhere in Las Vegas

EYES WIDE, TRIPP Wrylee jolted to sit in the bed, surveying the surroundings. He was in his hotel room, still wearing the same clothes he was on last night. After he and his best friend Kayden Braxton closed a deal, he invited Dax Easton to join them at the club, for old time’s sake. What a coincidence—he was there for his cousin’s fiance’s bachelor party.

Fuck! What time was it? A surge of fear pushed his confusion back of the time he had left to prepare. It was his big day after all.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand to find the battery drained. He tossed his clothes down to the bed and grabbed a new white shirt—no time to change his pants. He rushed to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, ignoring his throbbing temples. He grabbed his suit jacket on the chair before he headed toward the elevator.

He groaned softly when the elevator suddenly turned into like the slowest fucking thing ever invented. The fact that he didn’t know what time it was, he was losing his shit. They would be losing their only chance. He would be losing her, and she was probably thinking he changed his mind and ditched her.

He slammed his hand against the reception, startling the receptionist. “What time—?” His gaze up to the wall clock. Thank fuck! He had one hour left. “Thank you, lady.

The lady receptionist stared at him, confused. “You’re welcome. Sir.

As time ticked by, his chest was heaving, his lungs were burning as he raced to cross the street, hoping the traffic enforcer would not stop him. He might have to force himself to punch someone who would try to catch him.

The jewelry store came to view. He was assisted with what he needed. When he was asked about the size, he couldn’t answer—it wasn’t like he had time to measure her little finger. What he only had was exploring her mouth with his tongue, tasting her sweet lips, and among other things. For a notorious playboy like Tripp, he hadn’t scored on her yet, and it challenged him.

Now he was torn to be being the luckiest man or being stupid for believing that he was madly in love with her. Still, it didn’t ease the knowledge of the fact that they were two completely different persons. He once thought this would never work, and he never pursued any woman before, let alone an innocent girl who wasn’t even a woman yet—she may be of legal age, but Tripp knew she was still a virgin. He was a cocky bastard while she was this cardigan girl, yet, it didn’t even bother him a bit.

“Can I exchange if this won’t fit?” He looked down at the two rings on his hand. “Nevermind, this would look just perfect on her.” He then paid and left.

Damn it. He was fashionably late.

He was still catching his breath as he entered the white chapel, catching everyone’s attention. His glazing eyes searched for his girl, hoping it wasn’t too late for their turn. Then there she was. At first, he didn’t recognize her. Besides the fact that she was the most beautiful human being he’d ever seen, sometimes she made him utterly speechless.

He sauntered closer, never breaking his gaze away. She ditched the cardigan. She was wearing a lacy white long sleeve knee-length dress, and Tripp thought he’d just seen an angel—his angel. His headache was gone. She was like his drugs, and he became instantly addicted to her.

“Hi,” she said breathlessly, her sweet breath fanning his sweaty face. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming. I was worried.” She bit her so plump bottom lip nervously. Something twitched down there with interest, Tripp managed to ignore it before he would embarrass his bride.

He held her soft and small hands, squeezing lightly before pressing them against his lips. “I can’t only come to you if I am not breathing anymore.” Jesus, where did that come from? Sometimes he had to question his sanity since he arrived at this city.

“There’s one couple more before our turn. Glad that you are here now, Tripp.” Her eyes—the color of the sea shone—the way she looked at him, so innocent and pure—one of many reasons that kept him awake with a raging hard-on every night since he first saw her.

After this, he would be corrupting her in so many ways possible. At least she was his by that time.

Their names were called.

“Are you ready?” he asked her once again.

“Yeah.” Tripp could see the nervousness written all over her face.

“Are you sure this is really what you want to do? Once we’re done, there’s no turning back, baby. You are mine, and I will be yours. Forever.” He mentally hit his head. How the fuck did he become so mushy?

“Yes. Yes. Let’s do this.” She nodded excitedly.

He liberated and corrupted her completely, but he didn’t feel any guilt. At first, he let her lie to her friends every time they met, then he convinced her to follow their feelings, and when she accepted his proposal, he knew their lives would going to change forever once they left this Sin City.

They stood in front of the officiant. With a short sermon about marriage and things he said repeatedly for probably a million times, Tripp didn’t pay much attention. He couldn’t focus—his eyes, his mind, his heart was solely on his future wife, and how he would make her feel good, he would take her over and over again in his hotel room.

Tripp would have laughed at himself if he ever thought of meeting someone before he came to Vegas for a business trip. It was the most cliche and the dumbest thing he would never do. For one thing, he had no plan on getting into a relationship. If it was for sex, he could have any women in his bed, effortlessly. But right now, for him, life was too short to make it lavish. What was important for him was to have this girl or he’d be damned.

Three days were long enough for Tripp to wait, and he’d been helplessly and restlessly crazy in love with her. At this moment, all he ever wanted, like the air he breathed was to be both of them legally as a husband and wife.

Mr. & Mrs. Wrylee. It rang perfectly.

“Tripp?” Someone was calling his name. A pinch on his finger forced him back to the ceremony.

“Do you a ring?” the officiant asked.

“Yeah.” He fished out the velvet square box.

“Repeat after me. I, state your name—”

“I, Tripp Raker Wrylee—” He slipped the ring into her finger as he recited his vow, and it just fit perfectly. It was beautiful and the most precious thing he’d ever given to someone, and what more perfect was that it was to his wife.

Next chapter