Chapter 3:

First Taste

Mom left for work early the next morning, her suitcase rolling out the door with a final wave. The house felt different immediately charged, quieter, ours. Max gave me a look over his coffee that made my stomach flip. “Garage. Ten minutes. Don’t keep me waiting.”

I showered quickly, heart racing, then headed out. The garage was dim, tools neatly organized on the walls, Max’s truck parked inside. He stood by the workbench in a tight gray tank top and gym shorts, arms crossed, looking every inch the experienced, dominant man I’d fantasized about.

“Lock the side door,” he ordered.

I did, then turned to face...