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Impossibly, Elodie is becoming the most profound romantic experience of my life outside of my relationship with Yolanda. Every time we’re together, she worms her way into my heart and it’s wrong on every, single level.

I can’t—and won’t— allow what happened at her mom’s house to occur ever again.

Lord help me, though, if she were even ten years older I’d spend every minute soaking up her glorious energy. She and I could share wry observations about our surroundings as we traveled the world and experienced life together as a real couple.

I’d give her a million more orgasms. Make her come apart under my tongue. Drive my cock into her tight little pussy knowing, with utter certainty, I’d ruined her for all other guys.

Doesn’t matter what I want, though.

She’s not meant for me. I’m a lonely, aging widower who can’t seem to figure out which end is up.

Elodie deserves a chance to be young. Focus on her law degree. Start a career. Fall in love with an age-appropriate man whom she can marry and create her own family.

My carnal desires notwithstanding, I’m gonna do the right thing by her. Focus on the class assignment for a few more weeks. Turn in our biographies. Go our separate ways.

“Carter.” Lucas is usually the first to lose his shit. “Shut the fuck up. We’ve heard the sermon a million times.”

“Elodie hasn’t. It’s a good one.” Carter juts out his chin.

Siggy thwacks him in the arm and points to the exit. “Stop. Don’t be a fuckin’ blowhard for once in your life.”

The four of them shuffle out, the way weathered rockstars do, with bad knees and arthritic wrists. Siggy claps me on the shoulder on the way past and waggles his eyebrows. Carter tries to stop for more pontificating, but Lucas steers him out the door midsentence by the strap of his guitar case.

“I’ll lock up, we’re right behind you,” I call out and nobody answers.

The door bangs shut behind them and then it’s only me and Elodie, a hundred cables, and the smell of hot amps cooling in the damp space.

She’s still on the equipment case. Shooting me a look.

My heart goes into overdrive.

Fuck.

Every virtuous thought from earlier is the fuck out the window.

Dangerous Beau Bixby invades my entire being like a distant muscle memory. He knows exactly what he wants and what he’s gonna do. DBB isn’t going to apologize.

I saunter over in Elodie’s general direction, ostensibly to kill the power from the switch above her head. When I’m within arm’s length, she reaches out and hooks two fingers through my belt loop. Turns me until I’m standing between her knees.

“Do you have any idea how wet you made me watching you sing?” She’s already undoing my belt. “The other day, you made me come and asked for nothing.” She gets my fly open and yanks my jeans down. “I heard your bandmates. The kid. Little girl.” She frees my hardening cock and strains to close her hand around my girth. “Get it through your handsome, thick head. I’m a grown woman who makes her own decisions.”

I open my mouth, but she has the crown of my cock between her lips before any words can escape.

I’m done for.

The visual is exactly how I dreamt it.

Except, Elodie goes too hard. Takes me too deep on the first pass and gags, eyes streaming. She dives back in with more teeth than she means. I hiss through mine and she freezes, her whole face stricken. As if she’s furious at herself.

Holy hell. She’s clearly in over her head. I should end this.

But, I can’t.

“Hey.” I catch her jaw and tip her face up. “You’ve got nothing to prove. Slow it down. I’ll show you.”

Elodie peers up at me with her mouth stuffed full of my cock. Her face lights up and she pulls off for a second. “Yes, I want to suck you off right.”

Good God.