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“Do you, Cassandra?”

I grew wet, and I knew Blake could feel it because he gave a sharp intake of air. “I don’t think you do.” He drew his fingers up so they barely touched my cloth-covered flesh.

Still, he didn’t make any more movement, just held his hand there in exquisite torture. I pinched my lips between my teeth. Maybe if I didn’t say anything he’d stop, the decision made for me.

But my hips rocked against him without me thinking, pushing me into his hand. The pleasure from just that movement sent a shudder through me.

“It feels like you want me to keep touching you.”

My clit ached, though he wasn’t even properly touching it.

“Tell me to stop,” Blake said.

I should have said it. I should have. But the way he was touching me, all I could think wasmore.

“Don’t stop,” I breathed.

In the distance, on a hill, a quad of golfers stood under large black umbrellas. They were far enough away I hoped they couldn’t see what Blake was doing to me. What he very much shouldn’t be doing to me, but what I wanted so desperately I was having trouble concentrating on keeping the wheel straight. It would have been dangerous if we’d been at any speed.

“Fucking touch me, Blake,” I said, gritting my teeth.

Blake looked at me, his jaw clenching, his mouth curling up in a smile. Then he slipped a finger beneath the fabric, sliding it inside of me. I gasped.

He inserted a second finger next to the first and tugged at the mound of sensitive nerve-endings inside. “Oh God.” I breathed, gripping the wheel.

“Fuck,” he said. “You’re so fucking wet, Cassandra. So fucking perfect.”

He leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes. He lifted one arm up and gripped the bar behind him with his right hand, his elbow up, while he worked his fingers inside of me, until I was riding his hand, moaning, whimpering, and gripping the steering wheel, about to go off onto the grass.

I saw the bulge in his pants as he worked me, and that was what nearly took me out.

“Stop,” I squeaked, then realized he couldn’t hear me. “Stop!” I exclaimed. “I’m going to come if you don’t stop!”

Blake slipped his hand out and I breathed hard. He tipped his head back against the bar, his other hand staying where it was. He grinned.

“I didn’t know I could come like that,” I said. “I mean, I still don’t know, but Jesus, Blake.”

“I’m happy to experiment.”

I pinched my lips, hating how I wanted his hand back. How I wanted him to try everything on me. How I wanted to try everything myself. Blake was testing everything about me.

The path forked up ahead. This was where I could either keep left, and go to where we were supposed to, or right, on the service road—an uncharted place where no one was supposed to go. That path led into the trees.

Blake watched me but said nothing. He didn’t touch me, didn’t try persuading me even though it was clear one way was the safe way and the other was not.

I gripped the steering wheel, aiming left.Be practical, Cassandra. He’s not here to stay.

But that was the very reason that at the last minute, I jerked the wheel to the right. Blake’s hand slid back onto my thigh, his grip tight now, squeezing my flesh. Desire shot through me. He wasn’t here to stay. So I should enjoy him while I could.

A moment later, a low, rough-hewn building emerged from the trees. It was a storage shed, only about a hundred feet square. Inside I knew there were tools, buckets, fertilizer. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was private. That was all I needed. I pulled to a stop outside and powered off the cart. I got up and strode to the shed fast, thinking I might change my mind.

I didn’t want to change my mind.

Jude used the same universal code for all the buildings, even though I’d told him to change it. Now as the door lock whirred open, I thanked God he didn’t listen.

Blake appeared at the side of the shed, rain darkening his suit jacket in tiny spots.

“If anyone sees us,” I whispered, “You know it’s more than just two people sneaking off for fun. I’m the CEO, I—”