Chapter 19: The Hayloft

We could not sleep that night, either of us.

At eleven I was on the cabin porch in my coat, and Boone came out with the lamp and looked at me.

"Barn," I said.

"It's below freezing."

"I know where there's hay."

The lamp went out, and he followed me across the yard.

The big barn smelled of cold dust and sweet grass.

I climbed the loft ladder first, and I heard him come up behind me, slow, because of the dark.

The loft ran the length of the building, stacked with bales to the rafters.

There was a gap between two stacks, where I had hidden when I was nine, and I pulled him into it by his jacket.

"Annie. The bunkhouse light's on."

"Then be quiet."

"Anybody could come in."

"Yes," I said, and kissed him.

I felt him catch fire against me.

His hands pushed my coat off my shoulders and I let it drop into the hay.

He turned me, one hard hand on my hip, and put my back against the stack.

"You're cold," he said.

"Then warm me."

He unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them down with my underwear, and went to his knees in the loose hay.

I put both hands over my mouth.

He kissed the inside of my thigh and breathed against me.

"No sound," he said, low. "Not a one, or I stop."

"That's not fair."

"You made the barn the rule."

He put his mouth on me.

He was slow and wet and sure, circling my clit with his tongue and sucking until my legs would not hold.

I bit the heel of my hand.

He slid two fingers into me and crooked them, and I shook so hard that hay rained down off the bale behind my head.

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