“The next morning I woke up in bed. I didn’t remember anything about what happened. But there was something between my legs. I was sore and I thought… well, I think I know what he did. It was only that one time though.”

“One time is too many.”

“After that I mostly avoided him. And Noah was there to protect me.”

Beau blows out a hard breath. “I suppose I can’t hate the guy too much, then.”

I don’t feel sexual anymore, not after talking about my foster father, not after thinking about that night. But I don’t want him to control me. I don’t consider what happened that night to be sex. Beau Rochester will be my first; I won’t let my foster father take that from me.

I reach out tentatively for Beau. He doesn’t move as I stroke a circle across his bicep. And then a triangle. And then a square. Then I graduate to letters.

Can we start over? I ask with silent, traced letters.

He faces me. “I want to kill someone,” he says, fury evident in his voice.

“Do that later.”

A short laugh. “You are perfect, you know that? You’re so damn strong. You’re invincible. It terrifies me, how much I want you.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead, my nose, my chin. The place between my breasts. My belly button. My legs fall open in surrender. And then he presses a kiss to my sex. He licks from bottom to top, lingering to draw around my clit. A circle. A triangle. A square. I let out a breathless laugh. Then he sucks on my clit in earnest, fluttering his tongue, and I moan, grasping his hair in my fists, shamelessly rubbing against his face.

Right when I’m about to come, he pulls back.

“No,” I moan.

He quirks his lips. “Remember what I said. I want you squirting on my cock.”

“Is that what I did?”

“That’s what you’re about to do.” He notches his cock against my sex, and this time I don’t ask him to wait. This time he presses forward, and he’s right. Even without a hymen, even though I’m not a virgin in the most technical sense, it sort of hurts. It’s definitely a stretching sensation. I suck in a breath, and he pushes deeper.

“Oh God, you feel good,” he mutters.

With a final thrust, he pushes all the way inside. His hips are flush with my thighs.

My mouth opens on a silent cry. I feel incredibly full. Too full. I pant through the sensation. He holds still to let me get used to him. “Okay?” he asks, his voice tense.

“Okay,” I say, too high pitched to be believed.