Chapter 4

Chloe’s POV

Third night of the trip.

Sophie was out cold.

She’d been quiet and withdrawn after dinner and gone to bed early. I lay on the living-room sofa staring at the ceiling, too restless to sleep.

Eventually I slipped outside for air.

The night was deep. Cool lake wind brushed my face.

I followed the path around the side of the cabin to the small toolshed.

The door stood half-open, the space inside pitch-black and so narrow two people could barely stand side by side.

I had just stopped at the threshold when low footsteps sounded behind me.

“Hiding out here?”

Victor’s voice cut through the dark.

He wore only black pants, chest bare—clearly he’d waited until Sophie was deeply asleep before following.

Fire-and-blackthorn pheromones slammed into me. My body locked.

I tried to step back, but he caught my wrist and shoved me straight into the shed.

The door clicked shut behind us.

Almost no light. I could just make out the dark gold in his eyes.

One hand braced on the wooden wall beside my head, trapping me in the corner. The other was already under my skirt.

“You spend the day avoiding me, then sneak out at night.” His voice was low.

Fingers pressed against my already-wet entrance through the thin fabric of my panties. “Body’s still honest, though.”

“Get off.” I pushed at him, voice shaking.

He ignored me, yanked the edge of my panties aside, and drove two fingers straight in.

Wet, filthy sounds filled the tiny space. My head fell back against the rough wood.

My walls clenched around him without permission.

Victor curled his fingers, grinding hard over that spot inside me while his thumb worked that swollen little peak.

“After I finger-fucked you once, you already can’t go without it?”

I bit my lip and refused to answer, but my body was shameless.

Slick ran down his fingers and dripped onto the shed floor.

He fucked me faster with his hand. My breathing turned ragged until a suppressed moan slipped out.

Suddenly he pulled his fingers free.

Before I could react he had his pants open. The scorching tip of his length pressed directly against my dripping entrance.

The shed was too narrow. Nowhere to go. He pinned me fully against the wall.

The thick tip forced the soft folds apart and pushed in an inch. The stretch was brutal.

I arched, both hands locking around his forearms.

“Victor… it’s too big—”

“Take it.” His breath was rough. He sank another half-inch. “Say it. Tell me you want every inch.”

I shook my head, but tears still spilled. My walls betrayed me, clamping tighter around the tip of him.

He gave a low laugh and pushed deeper—slow, deliberate, torturing me with every inch.

Just as his hands gripped my hips and he prepared to bury the rest of himself inside me, a door opened somewhere toward the cabin.

Then Sophie’s sleep-rough voice drifted through the dark:

“…Victor? Are you outside?”

My heart stopped.