He rocks into my fist, groaning. “Shay. Fuck, that’s good.”

I lean forward and press my mouth to the tip of his cock. The way he jerks under my lips sends a rush of power through me so potent I feel like I could do anything. I run my tongue along the underside then grip him at the base of his shaft before I take him into my mouth.

Maybe this is reckless, but we’ve already crossed lines, and right now, there’s nothing I want more than to make him come.

He threads his fingers through my hair, not so much to guide me but as if he’s trying to hold me, to keep more contact between us. I work my mouth over him, pulling him deep for a few strokes before releasing him completely and licking his tip with my tongue.

When I pull him deep again, he tugs lightly on my hair. “Shay.”

I look up at him, increasing my suction. He releases a loud groan and the metal walls around us vibrate.

He closes his eyes. “Shit, I want to come inside you.”

I release him and stroke his wet shaft in my fist. “Condom?” The word breaks on my tongue because I want that too.

He grimaces. “Fuck. I’m sorry. Are you . . . on anything?”

I bite my lip. It’s so damn tempting. “Yes, but I haven’t been tested since I found out about George’s . . . indiscretions. Until I know I’m healthy, we shouldn’t risk it.”

Swallowing hard, he nods. “I get it.”

I grin. He thinks this is over, but I’m not done yet. “Just enjoy letting me live out a teenage fantasy,” I say, and I’m treated to another groan as I take him back in my mouth and suck every bit of pleasure from him I can.

“What were you going to say earlier?”

We’re walking back to the main house and the sun is setting. It’s a beautiful evening, but I was reluctant to leave our bubble in the barn.

He smirks at me. “If you think I can remember anything resembling the English language after what you just did with your tongue . . .”

I smack his arm, blushing. “Would you hush?” I look around, but we’re out here alone. “Before we went into the barn, I said I liked being your friend, and you acted like you wanted to say something about it. Is this . . . You’d tell me if this was getting too weird for you, right?”

He reaches for my hand as if he needs the support. I don’t hate it. “Remember how I said my therapist walked me through that exercise?”

“Yeah.”

He squeezes my fingers gently. “When I imagined my future, I didn’t just see Jackson Harbor. I saw you.”

My stomach flips. I saw him too. I was just too scared to say it. I’m still too scared.