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My jaw tightens. I can’t believe I ever told myself I was over her. How would that even be possible? I’m watching her now, lips parted, fingers working my zipper down, and I realize how stupid I was to ever pretend otherwise.

She frees me from my boxers, and the cool air hits, then her mouth follows, and I stop thinking about anything else.

“Fuck.” The word punches out of me.

Sienna hums against my skin, her tongue tracing the ridge, her hand wrapped around the base, her braids dragging against my thigh as she takes me into her mouth. The road stretches ahead of us, empty and winding, and I’m supposed to be watching it, but my vision has narrowed to the crown of her blue-and-black head bobbing in my lap.

“You have no idea,” I grind out, “how fucking good that feels.”

She pulls back just enough to speak. “You have no idea how good you taste.”

“Sienna your fucking mouth is going to be the end of me.”

She laughs, a puff of warm air that makes me shudder, and then her mouth is on me again. She hollows out her cheeks, the suction pulling something from deep in my spine, and I can feel myself hurtling toward the edge faster than I want to.

The turn for the gravel road comes up faster than I expected. I yank the wheel. Gravel spits under the tires. Sienna doesn’t stop.

Neither do I.

I approach the stables a few miles from my house about halfway between Bar Harbor and Boston, but I can’t bring myself to make her stop. Her hands. Her mouth. The silhouette of her ass in the air as she takes me deeper. It’s all too much. It’s all too fucking perfect. I kill the headlights, not wanting anyone to see us.

This is for my eyes only.

My chest is heaving. My hands are still gripping the wheel. Sienna’s mouth works me with a rhythm that makes my toes curl in my boots, and I’m right there, right on the precipice, when the truck rolls to a complete halt.

She stops, looking up at me with big doe eyes, and the shine of a very dirty girl on her lips.

“Are we here, Gray?” she purrs, stroking my cock lazily.

“Yes.” It comes out a moan.

“Great.” She beams.

And before I can stop her she’s opening the passenger door and hopping out into the cool evening air, her skin-tight jeans hugging every curve, her sweatshirt slipping farther off her shoulder, and I’m sitting here with my dick out and my jaw hanging open and a pressure in my balls that’s going to kill me before sunset.

“Sienna,” I growl, my voice grinding against my teeth.

She turns. The late afternoon light catches the blue of her braids, the gleam in her eyes. “Coming?”

“You did not just⁠—”

“What?” She blinks innocently, tucking her arms behind her back so her breasts poke out more. “I thought you brought me out here to make up for lost time, Gray. Not just to fuck your little sister’s bestie.”

“I’m about to do both,” I hiss, tucking myself back in.

I shove my door open. I’m around the front of the truck in three strides, and she’s backing up, laughing, that musical sound that sold out arenas and has driven me insane since the first time I heard her sing.

“You’re a brat.” My voice is gravel. I reach for her.

She dances back. “You love it.”

“I love you.” The words are out before I can stop them. They hang there between us, and her laughter cuts off, and something raw and unguarded flashes across her face.

Then I’m on her.

I scoop her up and throw her over my shoulder, and she shrieks:a proper shriek, the kind that would have reporters salivating if they heard Echo making a sound like that. My hand connects with her ass, sharp and satisfying through denim.

“Grayson!” She gasps, kicking against me.