I look deep in her eyes, the light in the barn bringing out the different shades of mahogany and teak. “Here’s to you, love,” I say softly, barely audible. “You’re quite the hangover cure.”

The corner of her mouth lifts in a soft smile and I impulsively lean over to kiss it.

Bram clears his throat, and I reluctantly look back at him. Maybe he can see in my eyes that I’m just daring him to say something, so he looks away, busying himself by picking up a menu. I can’t help but smirk at that. For all of Bram’s money and affluence, he’s still a bit intimidated by his younger cousin.

The lunch ends up going smoothly, and even though Linden was grating on my nerves yesterday, he’s more subdued today. Maybe it’s the hangover. Everyone has been turned down a few notches. Still, when the waitress comes by to take away our empty plates, I find myself sighing internally with relief. As much as I honestly do care for Bram and Linden, and I don’t mind Nicola and Steph, all I want to do is spend my last moments with the woman next to me. Little by little, I can feel that darkness creeping in, snaking black fingers that take hold of your brain, and I want to do what I can to keep them at bay.

Even though they seem to increase when I’m thinking about Kayla, she’s also the cure.

We all make tentative plans to meet later on at the bowling alley bar inside the hotel, even though in the back of my head I know I’m not going to show up. I’ll say goodbye to them in the morning. That will be enough for me.

The minute they leave and get in their cars, I grab Kayla’s hand and lead her along the peeling paint fence toward one of the barns in the background. Unlike the barns used for the restaurant and wine tasting, this one looks neglected.

“Where are you taking me?” she asks as I look around, checking to see if anyone is looking. From this angle there’s nothing in sight except hayfields and rows of grapes.

“I know you’re not too keen on the dog watching us,” I tell her, leading her into the barn, past farm equipment, to the ladder that leads up to the hayloft.

“I’m also not too keen on rolling around in rat poop,” she says.

I shoot her a smile and start to climb the ladder. “Wait there. Let me check.” I climb and pop my head over the edge. It’s not packed with hay, but there are a lot of bales stacked along one side, some of the hay loose and spreading onto the floor. It will be comfortable enough. And no, I don’t see any rats.

I step off the ladder and wave her up. “Come on,” I say quietly. “The hay is fine.”

She purses her lips, thinking it over. I stand at the edge and unzip my cargo pants, bringing my dick out of them, already stiff as a board.

Her eyes widen as I knew they would. My girl is a hungry little creature.

“I’ll be right up,” she says, her mouth parting sweetly as she clamors up the ladder. When she gets to the top, she stays down on her knees. Her hands grab the back of my thighs, her nails digging in, and she stares up at me with burning eyes.

She doesn’t break eye contact with me—I’m starting to think she gets off by watching me get off. I’ve been with my fair share of women, but none of them were as brazen as she is, not even close. And it’s not that I feel like she’s lusting over me like a slab of meat. At the beginning, maybe. But now, it’s more than that.

At least, I hope it’s more.

She takes me in her mouth, working me softly, sweetly, but oh so fucking wild. I close my eyes and throw my head back, both wanting her to continue and wanting her to stop.

When I’m close to coming, I pull back, breathless. She stares at me, soulful, yearning, her perfect mouth open and glistening, practically begging for my cum.

I lick my lips and grab her by the arms, hauling her up beside me. I put one hand behind her head, feeling how small she is, how perfectly she fits in my palm. The urge to protect her or fuck her is a war raged deep inside, all the time. No wonder she’s driving me mad.

Wanting her to feel my fire, what’s driving me, I pull her to me and kiss her urgently as the need, the lust, the want comes pouring out. I might just devour her. Everything she offers up is so beautiful, but it’s never enough. I don’t just want to touch her and be with her, I want to fuse with her. I want to sink inside her so deeply that she’ll feel bereft without me there. I want to be everything to her, this sly little minx who has turned my world upside down.

She’s kissing me back, wild and untamed. She’s clawing at me now, nails on my back, digging through my shirt, and I’m gripping her so hard I feel I might break her.

Quickly, I pull her shirt over her head and toss it on the hay. “Come on,” I groan against her neck. I gently push her back until she’s lying in the straw and shimmying herself out of her denim cut-offs. No knickers, of course. I’ll never tire of the sight of her beneath me, so perfect, every swoop and soft curve that my lips and tongue and hands are so ridiculously addicted to. Her cunt is a fucking treasure, and for this moment, for every moment I’ve spent with her, I feel like it all belongs to me.

It’s a startling thought, the idea that she could. It’s not just that it feels like she’s mine. It’s the idea that maybe, in another world, in another life, she could be.

I pinch my eyes shut, willing the feeling away. But it doesn’t go. It just morphs, turns, shifts, into raw desire to have her in every way I can, to make her see just how it is.

“Did you bring a condom?” she asks me, breathless.

I shake my head in frustration. I wasn’t really thinking with my hangover. “No,” I say regretfully. “I didn’t.”

“I’m on the pill,” she says. Her eyes are clouded with lust, but she’s still thinking straight. “And I’ve been tested. Clean.”

I nod. “Same.” I had more than a few scares when I was younger. I wasn’t always with the best people, doing the best things. I’ve been more than careful ever since.

“Okay,” she says softly, and I see it in her eyes, the look that tells me it will be different this time. To feel her skin against skin. To be so completely bare with her.

I have to take a deep breath, steady myself. Without a barrier between us, I don’t know how long I’ll have before I lose myself inside her.

But who am I kidding? I’ve already lost myself to her.

I move between her spread legs. It’s almost painful, this desire, this need. Seeing my bare cock hard and ready, her cunt open, pink and soft—I feel like I’m dying a beautiful death a million times over.

I tell myself to get over it but words don’t matter. Reason and logic, same. In this moment, I want in deep and to never let go.

Slowly, so slowly, I ease myself into her as she raises her hips, pushing toward me herself, wanting that deeper purchase. Her mouth opens wider the further I get, her skin sliding against my skin like endless silk.

I kiss her, melting my mouth into hers, wanting to be as close as possible.

“This won’t take long,” I nearly whimper against her lips. “I’m sorry.”

“Apologize afterward,” she tells me, her breath so airy and soft with pleasure that it nearly derails me.

But I know I won’t. I’ll make sure there’s nothing to apologize for.

Our faces are just inches apart as I slowly pull out and ease myself into her. Our gaze never breaks. Hers is full of lust and wonder, as if she’s seeing me for the first time. I can only hope she likes what she sees, that I’m enough for her. When our hips meet, it makes me still, and I have to suck in my breath to regain control. There’s something about her that makes me want to completely lose it and I’ve been losing my mind since the day I met her.

She wraps her legs around my waist and rocks her hips backward, each movement pulling me further and further into her. Her hands are at my back and pushing into my muscles. Our skin moves against each other like we are one.