Aria Book Nook8-ct

Taking her Innocence1 Lila I stared out of the car window, watching the city skyline shrink in the rearview mirror, tall buildings giving way to endless stretches of highway and then, eventually, to flat, dusty roads lined with nothing but fields and the occasional cow. My arms were crossed tight over my chest, earbuds in but no music playing. I just wanted the silence, even if it was fake. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to spend my entire summer in some tiny rural town with an uncle I barely knew, cut off from my friends, my life, and everything that actually mattered. I was a city girl—born and raised in apartments with sirens at night and coffee shops on every corner. Not… this. “Lila, honey, come on,” Mom said from the front passenger seat, twisting around to give me that overly bright smile she always used when she knew I was mad. “It’s only two months. You’ll have fun. Fresh air, open space—” I didn’t look at her. Just kept watching the world blur by. Dad gripped the wheel tighter, eyes fixed on the road. He hadn’t said much since we left. Typical. As long as the car was moving and no one was yelling, he was fine. Mom sighed and turned back around. I pulled out my phone, more out of boredom than anything, and opened Instagram. I typed in his name—Ryder Kane. My step-uncle. Mom’s brother, technically, but only by adoption. He’d been taken in by my grandparents when he was eighteen, already grown, already rough around the edges. I’d met him maybe three times in my life; at holidays, mostly, and he’d always been quiet. Tall. Broad. The kind of man who didn’t need to speak to fill a room. His profile loaded. Only four posts. The most recent one was from last year: him standing in front of a barn, arms crossed, wearing a faded black T-shirt stretched tight across his chest, worn jeans, and a cowboy hat tipped low over his eyes. Sun-tanned skin, dark stubble, that sharp jawline. He looked… dangerous. Too handsome for thirty-two. Too hot for someone who lived in the middle of nowhere raising cattle. There was one older photo with his wife—Aunt Delaney, I guess. Blonde, pretty, smiling politely beside him at some county fair. They looked like a magazine couple. But something about the way they stood, just slightly apart, felt off. I scrolled back to his photo alone and bit my lip. Mom glanced over. “You okay back there?” I hesitated, then locked my phone but kept it in my hand. “Does Uncle Ryder have kids?” Mom blinked, surprised. “No, sweetie. They… don’t.” Dad shot her a look. It was short and sharp but looked like a warning. Mom ignored it. “They’re in a celibate marriage.” Dad’s voice was low. “Sarah.” “What?” Mom turned to him. “She asked. She’s family. It’s not some big secret.” I widened my eyes slightly, sinking lower in my seat. “So they don’t even sleep together anymore?” Dad’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel. “Lila.” Mom sighed. “It’s… complicated. They love each other, but things have been strained. Intimacy isn’t… there right now.” I looked back out the window, letting out a soft scoff. A sexless marriage. Him… looking like that, and untouched. Just like me. Why the hell was I even thinking about that? I shook my head, shaking off the weird thoughts. Who cares if he was untouched or a virgin? As the car turned onto a long gravel drive leading up to a sprawling ranch house in the distance, I felt something shift inside me. This summer was going to be anything but boring. The gravel crunched under the tires as Dad finally pulled up in front of the ranch house. It was bigger than I remembered—white siding, a wide wraparound porch, and barns and fences stretching out behind it like something from an old Western movie. The sun was dipping low, painting everything gold, and the air smelled like hay and earth and something faintly sweet I couldn’t place. Delaney was already waiting on the porch, waving enthusiastically the second the car stopped. She looked just like her Instagram photo—blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail, sundress fluttering in the breeze, smile wide and genuine. She hurried down the steps as we climbed out. “Sarah! Tom!” she called, pulling Mom into a tight hug first, then Dad. “It’s been too long.” Mom laughed, hugging her back. “Way too long. Look at you. You haven’t aged a day. You still look so pretty.” “You too, Sarah! Maybe tell me who your dermatologist is later?” “Sure!” Mom laughed. Delaney turned to me next, eyes lighting up even brighter. “And Lila. Oh my goodness, look at you. You’re all grown up.” She pulled me into a hug before I could brace myself, her perfume soft and floral. “You’re so beautiful.” I forced a smile, hugging her back awkwardly with one arm while clutching my suitcase handle with the other. “Thanks. Hi.” She pulled away but kept her hands on my shoulders, studying me like I was some miracle. “I can’t believe you’re here for the whole summer. We’re going to have so much fun.” I nodded, my smile still plastered on. “Yeah. Can’t wait.” Dad grabbed my bigger bags from the trunk while Mom and Delaney chattered about the drive. I followed them up the steps and into the house, cool air washing over me as we stepped inside. The sitting room was exactly what I expected: rustic but cozy. Wooden beams on the ceiling, leather couches, and a big stone fireplace. A woven rug covered most of the hardwood floor. And then my eyes landed on the wall above the fireplace. A massive set of cattle horns—long, curved, and polished—was mounted like a trophy. The skull was still attached, empty eye sockets staring down at me. I swallowed, a shiver running down my spine despite the warmth. It felt like it was watching. Delaney noticed my stare and laughed lightly. “Ryder’s pride and joy. He took it down himself years ago. Said it was the biggest one he’d ever seen.” I nodded slowly, forcing my eyes away. “Cool.” Mom and Dad settled onto the couch while Delaney disappeared into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “Sweet tea? Lemonade? I’ve got both.” “Lemonade sounds perfect,” Mom answered for all of us. I set my smaller bag down and perched on the edge of an armchair, looking around. Everything was clean, lived-in, but there was something… quiet about the house. Like it was waiting for something. Or someone. Delaney came back with a tray of glasses, ice clinking, and handed them out. She sat across from us, crossing her legs, still smiling. “So,” Mom said, taking a sip, “where’s Ryder?” My eyes slightly went up when I heard that. Delaney’s smile flickered, just for a second, before she waved a hand. “Oh, he had to run out to the north pasture. One of the bulls got through the fence again, and he wanted to check the herd before dark. You know how he is. He can’t rest until everything’s squared away.” Dad grunted in understanding. “Always was hands-on.” Delaney nodded, but her eyes drifted toward the window, like she was looking for headlights that weren’t there yet. I sipped my lemonade, sweet and cold, and tried not to think about how long “before dark” might be. Or how quiet the house felt without him in it. Or how, somewhere out there in the fading light, Ryder was riding around on horseback, fixing fences, sweat on his skin, shirt clinging to his back. I shifted in my seat, suddenly too aware of the warmth creeping up my neck. This was REALLY going to be a long summer. Taking her Innocence 2 Lila I stood on the porch, arms crossed, watching the dust cloud rise behind my parents’ car as it disappeared down the gravel drive. I didn’t wave. I didn’t even lift a hand. Mom had tried one last hug, all teary-eyed and “call us anytime,” but I’d just nodded. Dad, predictably, had waited until the last second to roll down his window and launch into the lecture. “Respect your elders, Lila. Help out around the house. No attitude. And stay out of trouble.” Classic Dad. Like I was still twelve. I didn’t reply. I just watched until the car was a speck, then nothing. The screen door creaked behind me. “Ready to see your room, sweetie?” Delaney’s voice was bright, like she was trying to fill the silence my parents left behind. I forced a small smile and turned. “Sure.” She led me upstairs, chattering the whole way about fresh sheets and how she’d put extra pillows because “city girls like options.” The room was at the end of the hall—big, airy, with a quilt on the bed and windows looking out over the pastures. It smelled faintly of lavender and wood polish. “It’s perfect,” I said, setting my bags down. It wasn’t a lie; it was pretty. Just not home. Delaney beamed. “I’m so glad. Now, how about I give you a quick tour of town? It’ll be fun—just us girls. We’ll be back before you know it.” I opened my mouth to say no politely, and firmly, but she was already grabbing a light cardigan from the hook by the door. “It’s tiny, Lila. One main street. Ten minutes, tops.” I sighed. No choice. We walked. The town was exactly as small as she’d promised. One dusty main road with a general store, a post office, a feed supply shop, a diner with a flickering neon sign, and a big community hall at the end that looked like it hosted everything from weddings to livestock auctions. Kids, maybe six or eight years old were playing some kind of makeshift baseball in a field beside the hall, shouting and laughing as a dusty dog chased the ball. Delaney waved at them, and a couple waved back. Everyone knew her. Everyone knew me, somehow. “That’s Mrs. Hargrove. She runs the library on Tuesdays,” Delaney said, steering me toward an older woman watering flowers outside the store. “And this is Lila, Sarah’s girl. All grown up now.” Mrs. Hargrove’s eyes lit up. “Lila! Lord, last time I saw you, you were knee-high, chasing fireflies at the Fourth of July picnic.” I smiled. It was tight, and automatic as hell. “Hi.” More introductions followed. Mr. Jenkins at the feed store. The diner owner, Carla, who insisted I come in for pie sometime. Two old men on a bench outside the hall who tipped their hats and said I’d “turned into a real beauty.” I nodded, smiled, said “thank you” and “nice to meet you” until my cheeks hurt. All I could think about was how far away the city felt. How trapped I was here, surrounded by people who remembered me as a gap-toothed kid in pigtails. Delaney looped her arm through mine as we headed back toward the ranch. “See? Not so bad. Everyone’s excited to have you.” “Yeah,” I said, forcing one more smile. “Excited.” Inside, I was counting the days until I could go home. Sixty left. Fifty-nine if I was lucky. And Ryder still hadn’t shown up. Back at the house, Delaney turned to me with that same bright smile, though it felt a little strained around the edges now. “You hungry, sweetie? I’ve got some chicken baking. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s hearty.” I shook my head, exhaustion pulling at me like weights on my limbs. “No, thanks. I’m not that hungry but I’m really tired. Long drive.” “Of course,” she said quickly, touching my arm. “Let me show you back to your room.” I followed her upstairs again, murmuring a quiet goodnight as she lingered in the doorway for a second, like she wanted to say more. Then she left, and I closed the door softly behind her. The bed looked too inviting. I kicked off my shoes, flopped onto the quilt, and stared up at the wooden ceiling beams. The room was quiet after the constant hum of the city. No traffic, no sirens, just the faint chirp of crickets outside. My phone buzzed weakly in my pocket—low battery warning. Great. I wanted to text my friends, send a dramatic “I’ve been banished to the wilderness” message with a crying emoji. I sat up, rummaging through my bag for my charger. Plug in first, complain later. I slipped back into the hall, charger cord trailing from my hand. The house was dim, just a soft glow from downstairs. As I reached the landing, I heard Delaney’s voice—low, urgent, coming from the window nook at the end of the hall. “Pick up… please pick up…” I froze, instinctively stepping into the shadow of the wall. She was pacing a little, phone pressed to her ear, biting her thumbnail. She dialed again. And again. Finally, a click on the other end. “Where are you?” Delaney whispered, voice tight. “Your sister and her husband just left. Their daughter is here. I had to lie and say you were out fixing fences or something important. Can you just come home already? At least come see your niece?” My heart stuttered. I backed away silently, pulse racing, and hurried upstairs on tiptoe. I slipped into my room, closed the door without a sound, and leaned against it for a second, breathing hard. What the hell was that? Why did she have to lie about where he was? And why did she sound so… desperate for him to come back? I crawled into bed fully clothed, pulled the quilt over me like armor, and set my phone and charger on the nightstand. Sleep. That’s what I needed. Sleep would make this place feel less strange. It worked, eventually. The exhaustion won. I woke to darkness and the pressure in my bladder. The clock on my phone read 12:47 a.m. Battery at 3%. The house was pitch black, silent except for the faint tick of an old clock somewhere downstairs. I grabbed my phone, turned on the flashlight, and crept out of the room. The hallway was creepy in the small circle of light—long shadows stretching across the walls. I padded downstairs, bare feet cold on the wood, trying to remember where Delaney had pointed out the guest bathroom earlier. There, past the kitchen, a door on the right. I reached for the handle and pushed it open as quietly as I could, but the moment the door swung wider, a low sound drifted out. It was deep, rough, almost pained. A groan. Then another, longer this time, followed by a ragged exhale that sent a shiver racing down my spine and made the hairs on my neck stand up. My heart started hammering, loud in my ears. Was someone hurt? The thought flashed before I could stop it. I hesitated only a second, then pushed the door open wider, phone flashlight sweeping across the room. And I froze. The man standing in the moonlight wasn’t hurt. He was… touching himself. Broad back to me at first, muscles flexing under tanned skin as his arm moved in slow, deliberate strokes. His jeans were shoved low on his hips, belt unbuckled, just enough to free himself. One big, calloused hand wrapped around a thick, hard cock—long, heavy, flushed dark at the tip. He pumped once, twice, head tipping back with another deep groan that rumbled through the quiet room. My breath caught so sharply I nearly dropped my phone. He turned, just his head, at the sound, and the light caught his face fully for the first time. Ryder Kane. My step-uncle. Taking her Innocence 3 Lila His sharp jaw shadowed with stubble, dark hair messy like he’d been running his hands through it, eyes a piercing storm-gray even in the dim light. Straight nose, full mouth pulled tight in pleasure, brows drawn together in concentration. He was built like the cowboys in old movies—wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, abs cut deep, every line of him hard-earned muscle from years of real work. A faint scar ran across one pec. His chest rose and fell fast, skin gleaming faintly with sweat. And his hand never stopped moving, slow and firm, like he didn’t care, or hadn’t decided yet if I stayed or ran. Our eyes locked. His didn’t widen in shock. Didn’t flinch. They just darkened, pupils blowing wide as he took me in, standing there in my thin sleep shorts and tank top, phone light shaking in my trembling hand, mouth open like an idiot. Poor me, and my fragile mental health. I’d just walked in on my uncle jerking off on my very first night here. Heat flooded my face, my chest, lower—shame and something else I didn’t want to name. My legs felt rooted to the floor. I should scream, apologize and run, but I couldn’t move. And Ryder… he still didn’t stop. It was as if he had been waiting for this his whole life. His gaze raked over me once, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the way I looked frozen in his doorway. Then his lips curved, just barely. Not quite a smile. More like a predator realizing the prey had walked straight into his den. My eyes went down slowly to his inhuman cock which he hadn’t still let go of. A beat of silence stretched, heavy and electric. Then the corner of his mouth lifted, just a flicker, and he let out a low, rough scoff. “Haven’t you seen a man’s cock before, Lila?” he asked. “Or do you expect me to cover up? Shouldn’t you take your eyes off?” The word hit me like a slap, crude and deliberate. Heat exploded across my cheeks, down my neck, pooling low in my belly. I couldn’t breathe right. My phone light shook harder in my hand, the beam jittering across his bare chest, the sharp cut of his abs, lower… I tried to speak. Nothing came out at first. My throat was dry, tight. “I—” I swallowed hard, the sound audible in the quiet room. “I thought this was the bathroom. I’m sorry. I didn’t—” My eyes betrayed me, dropping again before I could stop them. It looked so foreign. Thick, heavy, standing straight out from his body in a way the blurry clips on my phone never quite captured. The skin was darker there, stretched tight, veins tracing along the length, the head flushed and slick at the tip. It twitched slightly under my stare, like it knew I was watching. I’d never seen one in real life. Not this close. Not hard and real and attached to a man who was breathing slow and steady while I stood frozen like an idiot. “Lila? You should give me privacy,” Ryder snapped, already getting impatient. Ryder too just watched me, patient, like a wolf waiting to see if the rabbit would bolt. He didn’t even hide or turn away, at least. My phone flashlight shook in my hand, the beam dancing wildly over his bare skin before I could steady it. I couldn’t look away. Not from his face, not from his chest, and definitely not from… that. Ryder’s eyes narrowed a fraction, the amusement fading into something else. He shifted his weight, glancing toward a folded towel on the desk chair like he was finally going to cover himself. My mouth moved before my brain caught up. “Wait. Can I… touch it?” The words tumbled out soft, breathless, almost curious instead of horrified. I didn’t even recognize my own voice. He stopped, his hand hovering near the towel. His gaze snapped back to mine, sharp and searching. I swallowed hard, cheeks burning so hot I thought I might actually catch fire. “I just… I heard somewhere that if you touch it, it… does this thing. Like magic or something. I wanted to see if it’s true.” It sounded ridiculous the second it left my lips. Something I’d overheard from giggling friends or read in a stupid online thread late at night. I hadn’t even meant to say it out loud. Ryder’s brow lifted slowly. He let his hand drop away from the towel. “Who told you that?” he asked. “It’s something I heard.” “Are you probably a virgin, Lila?” I swallowed hard again. “I am not,” I lied. He laughed softly as if he knew the obvious. “Lila,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, the gravel in it making my stomach flip. “I’m Ryder. Your uncle. The fact we are talking about this when it’s our first time seeing each other in years doesn’t seem weird to you? We haven’t even greeted each other well yet.” The reminder hit like cold water. He was my family. Step-uncle. The man who’d carried me on his shoulders when I was seven. The one married to Aunt Delaney, who was still down the hall. Reality slammed into me. “Oh god,” I whispered, taking a stumbling step back, phone light swinging wildly. “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean—I should go—” I turned toward the door, mortified, ready to flee. “Hold on.” His voice wasn’t angry. I noticed how calm he sounded. He was also commanding in a way that made my feet stop without permission. I looked back, barely able to meet his eyes. He hadn’t moved to cover himself, nor had he turned away. He just watched me, expression unreadable except for a faint heat in those gray eyes. “You’re curious,” he said quietly. Not a question. I couldn’t answer. My throat was too tight. He took one slow step closer, then another, until the heat of his body brushed the air between us. Close enough that I could smell faint whiskey and clean sweat. “One touch,” he said, his voice dropping even lower. “Just once. If that’s what you really want.” My heart pounded so hard I felt it in my fingertips. I stared at his face, then lower again, unable to help it. Slowly, I reached out, my fingers trembling, toward something I knew I shouldn’t touch. But couldn’t stop wanting to. My fingers closed around it before my brain could process a thing. It was hotter than I expected, skin velvet-smooth over steel-hard heat. Thicker than my grip could fully circle. It pulsed in my hand, a living thing, jumping slightly at the contact like it recognized the touch of someone new. A low, rough exhale escaped Ryder. His hand fell away from his length, leaving mine the only one holding him. I stared down at it in the dim moonlight, fascinated and terrified, feeling the subtle throb against my palm, the slick bead at the tip smearing across my thumb as I shifted, barely daring to move. I’d never felt anything like it. Not even close. It really did feel… magical. Alive in a way that made my stomach flip and heat pool low between my legs. Then my phone screen went black. The flashlight died with a soft click, the battery finally giving out, plunging the room into near darkness. Only the faint silver from the window outlined his silhouette now, the hard lines of his body, the place where my hand still rested on him. My heart slammed against my ribs. “Lila?” Delaney’s voice floated up from downstairs, soft but clear in the quiet house. “Are you there, honey? I thought I heard something.” Taking her Innocence 4 Lila I yanked my hand back like I’d been burned, stumbling a step away. The sudden movement made Ryder’s breath hitch, but he didn’t speak. Didn’t move to cover himself. I couldn’t see his face clearly anymore, but I could feel his eyes on me. They were heavy and watchful. “I—” My voice cracked. I cleared my throat, trying to sound normal, but it came out shaky and too loud in the dark. “I’m fine! Just… looking for the bathroom!” Silence from downstairs for a beat. “Okay, sweetheart,” Delaney called back, sounding relieved. “It’s the door right across from the kitchen. Goodnight.” I heard her footsteps fade away. I stood frozen, breath coming in shallow bursts, hand still tingling where I’d touched him. The air felt thicker now, charged. “I’m sorry,” I suddenly blurted into the darkness, my voice cracking. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. Please just forget any of this. I don’t know why I even said that.” I smacked the side of my head lightly with my free hand, like I could knock the stupidity out. My palm still burned with the feel of him—hot, hard, and pulsing. I couldn’t believe I’d touched it. Touched him. Before he could say another word, I spun around and fled, bare feet silent on the hallway floor. I slipped back into my room, shut the door as quietly as I could, and leaned against it, chest heaving. I still had to pee. Badly. But there was no way I was going back out there. I’d hold it until morning if I had to. I crawled into bed, pulled the covers over my head, and squeezed my eyes shut. Sleep came eventually, restless and fitful. When I woke up, sunlight was streaming through the curtains, and the memories slammed into me all at once. His cock in my hand. The way it throbbed. His low voice saying “just once.” My own voice asking to touch it. I groaned into my pillow, face burning so hot I thought I might actually burst into flames. I wished the floor would open up and swallow me. I wished last night had been a dream. What the hell did I do? I wasn’t even drunk, so what exactly possessed me to say and do all that? “Lila, honey?” Delaney’s voice floated up the stairs, cheerful as ever. “Breakfast is ready!” I lay there for another minute, praying for a sudden natural disaster. None came. I forced myself out of bed, threw on an oversized hoodie over my sleep shorts, and dragged myself downstairs. The smell of bacon and coffee hit me first. Then I saw the dining table. Breakfast was spread out—eggs, toast, fruit, and pancakes. And there he was. Ryder. He was sitting at the head of the table in a faded black T-shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders, dark hair still a little messy from sleep, sipping coffee like he didn’t have a care in the world. He looked up when I walked in, his gray eyes meeting mine for a split second before I jerked my gaze away. Delaney beamed from the kitchen doorway. “Good morning! Isn’t it nice to finally meet your uncle properly?” Nice? I wanted to die. I couldn’t even look at him. I bit my bottom lip hard and stared at the floor, shuffling toward an empty chair as far from him as possible. Delaney laughed softly, setting a plate in front of me. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous. Come on, you know Ryder’s the sweetest thing ever.” I managed a weak nod, sliding into the seat. Ryder’s low voice cut through the quiet, calm, and even moment. “Morning, Lila.” I mumbled something that might have been “morning” and kept my eyes glued to my plate. Because if I looked up, I knew I’d see his face and remember exactly how his cock felt in my hand. Breakfast dragged on forever. Delaney kept the conversation flowing, bright and effortless, talking about the weather, the new foal born last week, and how the peaches were coming in early this year. She laughed easily, refilled coffee cups, and passed the syrup like we were some normal little family. Ryder ate in silence, only speaking when spoken to, his deep voice short and clipped. Every time he reached for something, I flinched internally, terrified our hands might brush. I kept my eyes on my plate, pushing eggs around, barely tasting anything. When the plates were mostly empty, Delaney clapped her hands lightly. “Ryder, why don’t you take Lila out to the ranch today? Show her around properly. She’s never really seen the place.” My fork froze halfway to my mouth. Hell no. I opened my mouth to refuse, but Ryder spoke first, calm as ever. “Okay. She should get ready.” I blinked, head snapping up. “I don’t think I want to go,” I said quickly, too quickly. Delaney tilted her head, her smile softening. “Why not, honey?” I bit my bottom lip, heat creeping up my neck. I couldn’t exactly say because I touched your husband’s dick last night, and I’m terrified to be alone with him. I just shrugged, staring at my juice glass. “It’ll be fun,” Delaney pressed gently. “And if you hate it, you never have to go again. Promise.” I had no real excuse. No escape. I sighed softly, defeated. “Fine.” Upstairs, I washed up quickly, brushed my teeth until my gums hurt, and changed into a pink striped T-shirt and my comfiest jeans. Simple. Safe. I came back down, grabbing my phone from the counter. Ryder was standing by the front door, arms crossed. His eyes flicked over my outfit once, slow and deliberate. “Wear a cottage skirt,” he said. I stopped. “What? Why?” “Do as I say.” His voice was low and firm. “I’m outside.” He walked out without another word, the screen door swinging shut behind him. I turned to Delaney, my eyebrows raised. She gave a small, apologetic nod. “Just do as he says, sweetie. He has a reason, I’m sure.” I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt and trudged back upstairs. Brown cottage skirt it was. Light, flowy ending just above my knees. I paired it with simple sneakers, because I wasn’t about to wear heels on a ranch. When I stepped outside, the morning sun was already warm. Ryder was leaning against his big and black dusty truck, the kind with oversized tires and a bench seat. He wore faded jeans, boots, and a plain gray T-shirt stretched across his chest, with a black cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes. The hat. I’d only seen it in that one Instagram photo, but in real life, in person, it fit him perfectly. Shadowed his sharp features just right, made him look even taller, broader, and more dangerous. The brim cast a line across his storm-gray eyes, and when he glanced up at me, my stomach flipped. He looked… unfairly hot. I swallowed hard and walked over, climbing into the passenger side without a word. The door slammed. The engine rumbled to life, and just like that, we were alone. The truck rolled down the gravel drive, dust kicking up behind us. Neither of us spoke. But I could feel his eyes on me every time I dared to breathe. I kept my hands clasped tight in my lap, staring out the windshield, trying to ignore how close his body was, how the heat from him seemed to fill the whole cab. Then, out of nowhere, his voice cut through the silence. It sounded low and rough. “Are you a virgin, Lila?” I blinked, heat flooding my face instantly. I rolled my eyes hard, turning to glare at him. “You asked that yesterday,” I snapped, stressing the word like a warning. “And I don’t think you should be asking me that, Uncle.” The word tasted bitter on my tongue, a reminder I desperately needed, for both of us. He didn’t flinch. Just kept his eyes on the road, fingers tightening slightly on the steering wheel until the veins in his forearm stood out sharper. “Not my fault you triggered me,” he said quietly. I frowned, my heart thudding. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?” He didn’t answer right away. The truck slowed to a stop at a gate, and he reached out to open it without getting down, muscles flexing under his shirt. Once we rolled through, he let the gate swing shut behind us and kept driving, slower now, like we had all the time in the world. “I haven’t been able to have sex in a long time,” he finally said, voice low and even. “Problem down there. Can’t get hard. Haven’t been able to for years.” My breath caught. I stared at his profile, mouth dry. Why was he even telling me this?? “But yesterday,” he continued, glancing at me for the first time since we’d started driving, gray eyes dark and intense, “with you… I felt different. Someone finally got me hard.” Excuse me? The words echoed in my head, but I couldn’t make my mouth form them. I just stared, cheeks burning, thighs pressing together involuntarily under the skirt. He let that hang in the air for a long moment. “So I was thinking,” he said, voice dropping even lower, rougher, “how about we explore? I help you taint that innocence a little—teach a curious little virgin what she’s been missing. And you help me… until I get it working right again.” My heart slammed against my ribs. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out at first. “I don’t think—” “Why do you think I told you to wear the cottage skirt?” he cut in, eyes flicking down to my lap for a split second before returning to the road. My stomach flipped, a rush of heat flooding between my legs so suddenly I had to shift in my seat. Taking her innocence 5 Lila The truck ambled along the rutted track, slower than before, like Ryder was drawing out every second on purpose. The gate was behind us now, the world beyond it fading into endless stretches of golden fields and distant fences. No one was around. Just us, the low hum of the engine, and the weight of his words pressing down on me. What he said came back into my memory. Explore? Really? Help him? Delaney’s husband, my step-uncle, is not sexually active, or what? My stomach twisted, a mix of nerves and something hotter, more insistent. I shifted in my seat again, the cottage skirt brushing against my thighs like a reminder of how this all started—his command, my reluctant obedience. Why had I listened? Why was I still here, letting this conversation hang instead of demanding he turn around? He glanced over, his hand drifting from the wheel to rest on the bench seat between us. Close enough that I could feel the heat from his skin. He leaned in just a fraction, enough to make the cab feel even smaller, more intimate. “So, what do you say, Lila?” His voice was low, rough around the edges, like he’d been holding it back. I bit my lip, hard enough to sting. Concern flooded me, sharp and unrelenting. This was wrong in all ways. He was my stepuncle! I was technically his little niece now, or something like it, and crossing this line could ruin everything. What if it blows up? What if Delaney found out, or something? What if I regretted it more than I already did touching him last night? But God, the way he looked at me… It stirred something deep, something I’d never felt before. Curiosity. Need. Shame burned in my cheeks. “You don’t want this?” he asked quietly, eyes searching mine. “Or do you want to think about it?” I swallowed, my throat tight and dry. My fingers fidgeted with the hem of the skirt, tugging it softly as if that could ground me. “Firstly… show me what you wanted to do to me. Why you wanted me to wear this skirt.” The words tumbled out, shaky and bold all at once. I couldn’t believe I’d said them. Part of me wanted to take them back, slam the door on this whole mess. But another part—the reckless, aching part—needed to know. I needed to feel whatever this was before I could decide to run from it. Ryder’s breath hitched. His grip tightened on the wheel for a second, veins standing out on his forearm. Then, without a word, he eased the truck off the main track, pulling into a shaded pull-off beneath a cluster of ancient oaks. The engine rumbled to a stop, ticking softly as it cooled. Silence rushed in—thick, expectant. No more movement. No escape route humming under our feet. He turned fully toward me, gray eyes dark and intense under the brim of his cowboy hat. His gaze raked over me slowly, deliberately, from my wide eyes and flushed face, down the pink-striped T-shirt that suddenly felt too tight across my chest, to the flowy brown skirt pooling over my knees. He lingered there, on the fabric, on my legs, like he was imagining what lay beneath. My heart pounded so loud I was sure he could hear it. I pressed my thighs together, but that only made the heat between them worse. He reached out, his hand finding my wrist—gentle at first, then firmer as he tugged me closer across the bench seat. Our knees bumped; his thigh pressed against mine, solid and warm through his jeans. I didn’t pull away. I mean, I couldn’t. Up close, I could see the stubble shadowing his jaw and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. His breath fanned across my cheek, carrying the faint scent of coffee and hay. He stared into my eyes for what felt like forever—searching, waiting, building the tension until it coiled tight in my chest. “Lila…” he murmured, voice gravelly. His free hand moved to my knee, thumb tracing a slow, lazy circle over the bare skin just above the skirt’s hem. I trembled. A soft gasp escaped me. Emotions crashed like waves—fear that this would change everything, guilt over how much I wanted it anyway, and excitement that made my skin tingle. Shy, I dropped my gaze to his chest, watching the rise and fall of his breaths under the gray T-shirt. He swallowed again, audibly, his fingers inching higher. Under the skirt now, trailing lightly up my inner thigh. Goosebumps erupted in their wake. The touch was feather-soft, teasing, drawing out every second. My body arched toward him instinctively, betraying me. When he reached the edge of my panties, he paused. Hooked a finger under the lace. Tugged it aside with agonizing slowness. Cool air brushed me, then his touch—warm, calloused fingers circling my clit gently at first, then with more purpose. Pleasure sparked through me like electricity, sharp and sweet. I moaned lowly and muffledly, biting the inside of my cheek to stifle it. My hands flew to his shirt, fisting the fabric tight, knuckles white. I held on like he was the only anchor in this storm. My head fell forward, forehead resting against his shoulder as waves of sensation built. It was too much, too intense. Emotions swirled: vulnerability from being so exposed, thrill from the forbidden rush, and confusion over how badly I wanted more even as my mind whispered that I should stop this right now. I realized that I couldn’t touch myself the way he did. How was he even making me feel this good, like it was a job he knew well? Every slow circle sent fresh heat blooming low in my belly. My hips rocked forward without permission, chasing the pressure, the friction. I could feel how slick I’d become, how embarrassingly ready my body was despite the fear still clawing at the edges of my thoughts. His breathing had turned rougher beside my ear—short, uneven exhales that told me he was just as affected. The hard length of him pressed against my thigh through his jeans, a silent reminder of his earlier confession, of what he claimed I’d awakened in him after years of nothing. My voice cracked before I could stop it. The word hovered on the tip of my tongue, sharp, dirty, forbidden. I hadn’t said it out loud in years. My parents had drilled it into me early. Nice girls don’t talk like that, Lila. It’s vulgar. It’s beneath you. Even now, miles away from their house, the rule clung to me like damp clothes. I bit my bottom lip so hard I tasted copper, trying to trap the word before it escaped. Ryder’s eyes never left my face. His fingers were still there, warm and steady, circling my clit with that maddening patience that made my thighs shake. The pleasure kept building, relentless, even as shame burned in my chest. “Say it,” he whispered, voice low and coaxing, like velvet dragged over gravel. I swallowed shakily, throat tight. “What?” “You wanted to say something.” His thumb brushed me again, slow and deliberate, and I jolted against his hand. “Say it.” I shook my head, quick and stubborn. My cheeks flamed. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Not that word. Not with him watching me like this, like he could see straight through every layer of good-girl training I’d ever had. His gaze darkened. Something shifted in his expression, patient but edged with hunger now. Without warning, he pressed one finger lower and slid it inside me. Just one. The stretch was sudden, burning, and overwhelming. My mouth fell open on a silent gasp. My eyes rolled back for a heartbeat as pain and pleasure collided in a white-hot rush. My inner walls clenched hard around him, too tight, too unprepared, and the word tore out of me before I could stop it. “Fuck,” I cried, the sound raw and broken. He stilled for a second, finger buried deep, letting me feel every inch of the intrusion. Then a slow, wicked smile curved his lips, dark, satisfied, almost proud. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice rough with approval. “That’s my girl.”