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“Come on, he’s a nice guy whose husband died. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Then don’t make me do it.”

“Fine. Promise me. Promise me you’ll give your best possible performance at this interview.” I’m trying not to notice how close his face is to mine.

A hot, wet tongue drags along the outer edge of my ear. Lord. He’s never done that before. It makes my breath stutter.

“Dean, do you believe me that I have Ella’s best interests in mind or not?”

“I believe you.” It’s embarrassing, the way I can’t keep from turning toward his quiet voice. From pressing my forehead against his. Letting our noses brush.

We’ve never fucked. Michael’s never even put his hands on me in a way that’s bound to get me off, even though he calls me a slut, even though he makes me hard. But the way I feel like his lips finally touching mine would cure everything that’s wrong with me?

Terrifying.

“Are you sure?”

My breath rushes out of me. Didn’t realize I was holding it in. “I’m sure.”

“You trust me?”

“Of course I trust you. I know you love her. I just worried for a minute you’d let your feelings about me get in the way.”

“Good.” With the room draped in shadow, his grin has a heavy dose of movie villain. “Prove it.”

“What? How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“Lie down.”

How the hell is that supposed to⁠—

“Dean. Lie down.”

“Ugh. Fine.” I slide down until my head is flat on the pillow again. I’m looking at his face and not his hands, but I hear his zipper go down.

“What in God’s name are you doing?”

We’ve done a lot of things. A lot of them are vaguely sexual, mostly because I’m gone the second his voice caresses my skin. Never has he pulled his dick out right in my face.

We were roommates freshman year. I’ve seen it before. It’s bigger than mine. Thicker, anyway. I swear it’s gotten bigger since then.

“Prove it,” he says again. “We need to be more like a couple, right? And you need to learn to trust me. Seems like we can accomplish both things by you choking on my cock.”

I’m aware I can be a little slow sometimes, but that does not compute.

Except, I’m in a trance like I always am when he looks me in the eyes and gives me a command. So when his dick bumps my lips and he says the word “open” I do exactly as he tells me.

Why have I always done everything he tells me to? Maybe because the one time I didn’t I regretted it.

Not Ella. I could never regret her. But if I could take back what happened to Billie? I’d do that in an instant.

Knowing I like what he does to me… Knowing I love what he does to me, that’s harder. The burning shame when I wonder what if Billie had lived and I’d wound up wanting her brother the way I do now? It threatens to consume me.

Even with her gone, sometimes it feels like cheating.

But that doesn’t bring my erection down, does it?

The hot, smooth length of him stretches my mouth wide. I’m a big guy, and over the years I’ve learned not to gag. But it’s not long before he’s right there at the back of my throat and it’s all I can do not to jolt off the bed.