Evan worked very hard to drive carefully to the Carmichael house. But he cussed every single stop sign and other driver between the restaurant and their driveway.

By the time he pulled into the drive and parked just past the sidewalk, he was wound tight and had only three things in his mind: how Cori smelled, how Cori’s breast felt in his hand, and how she sounded when she moaned.

He turned off the truck and started to turn toward her, but before he’d even shifted an inch, she was already crawling toward him.

“Let’s steam up these windows already,” she said playfully as she started to lift her leg to swing it over his thighs. But she got stopped mid-swing. “Dammit,” she muttered, putting her knee back on the seat.

He reached for her, mostly because he had to touch her now, than because he thought he could be a lot of help with…whatever the problem was. His hand skimmed her side to her hip as she braced herself on all fours over his front seats. “You okay?”

“This skirt is too tight,” she said with a sigh.

He gave a soft chuckle. “Lose the skirt, Cori.”

She looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“Unless you don’t want me to put my hands where I intend to put them as soon as humanly possible.”

She wet her lips and, as always, the action sent aching heat straight to his cock. “I want your hands everywhere.”

“Then we are definitely on the same page.”

“Well, we have to do this,” she said. “for the sake of the neighbors.”

Holding her gaze, he reached for the zipper on the side of the skirt. Yeah, he’d made a note of where the skirt zipped up. A guy had to be prepared. The rasp of the zipper going down filled the cab as Cori’s breathing got faster.

She pushed back to kneel on the seat and slid the skirt down over her hips. Then shifting side to side, she moved out of it and tossed it on the floor. She started toward him, but then paused. She looked at the skirt, sighed, picked it up and then folded it over the back of the seat.

She caught him watching her with a smile and shrugged. “It’s Ava’s.”

“Right.”

Evan was grateful to the city of Bliss for positioning the streetlights where they had. And for whichever sister had turned on the porch light before leaving tonight. Along with the moonlight, they provided just enough light for him to see Cori’s face as she knelt on the seat in only her panties, heels, and the white silk blouse. She looked turned on, if not slightly hesitant.

He held out his hand. “What are you waiting for?”

“I was just thinking,” she said. “I’m not sure the last time I made out in a truck.”

He smiled. “That’s a semi-regular thing around here.”

“And I’m not sure the last time I did this with a guy I like as much as I like you.”

His smile died. There was suddenly an ache behind his breastbone and he wasn’t sure if it was because his lungs had stopped working or because his heart had just taken the hardest beat of his life. Evan cleared his throat. “I like you too.”

She nodded. “I know. That makes this different too.”

The happiness he felt knowing that she knew he liked her was strange. “I find it impossible to believe that the other guys haven’t liked you.”

“They liked what they knew,” she said. “But they didn’t know much.”

She was going to kill him. Just when he thought he might be at risk of dying of pent-up lust because of this woman, she made him realize that he might just die of wanting. And not wanting physically. At least not wanting just physically. But wanting everything. To be everything and give her everything and do everything she needed.

“Cori,” he finally said, aware that his voice was rough and that he probably looked like a man in pain, “I really need you to come over here.”

With a deep breath, she took his hand. As corny as it sounded, the moment their hands touched, Evan felt a shaft of need and this is perfect knife through him. He tugged her forward and she knee-walked across the leather.

This time when she swung her knee up, she had plenty of range of motion and she quickly straddled his thighs. Evan reached for the lever that would move the seat back, giving them extra room. Then his hands settled on her hips, the heat from her skin seeping into him from his lap and palms.

“Kiss me.” His voice was still rough, but he knew she could hear the raw desire.

She put her hands on either side of his face, looked him directly in the eyes, and said, “I really need to do more than kiss you.”

“Yeah?” He was definitely on board with that. Whether or not he should be. At the moment, with Cori Carmichael on his lap and in his hands, he simply couldn’t care about anything else.

“I’ve also never kissed a guy as much as I have you without doing a hell of a lot more,” she said with a smile.

That smile made things knot up in places Evan didn’t even know he could feel knotted up. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that if you want to get lucky tonight,” he said, trying desperately for teasing rather than going completely serious and deep. Because he sucked at serious and deep, and he was going to die if Cori climbed off of his lap before he’d seen and touched and kissed a whole lot more than her lips.

“No?” she asked, tipping her head.

Evan reached up and squeezed the clip that was holding her hair up. He tossed it on the dashboard as the long blonde tresses fell to her shoulders and he pulled his fingers through them. “It kind of makes me want to just keep kissing you,” he said. “I like being different for you.” On one hand, he wanted to consume her, to brand her, to make sure there wasn’t an inch of her that hadn’t been touched by every inch of him. But on the other hand, being the guy that she wasn’t immediately seducing sounded damn good too.

Though he definitely felt seduced. By things other than her amazing body and her playful daring in the bedroom. And he didn’t need to ask to confirm that Cori was playfully daring when it came to sex. That was as much a part of her as her laugh and her sassiness and her love for sweets.

“Evan,” she said, her voice soft and serious.

He felt his frown. Cori wasn’t soft or serious. “Yeah?”

“You are different. No matter if everything from here on out is stuff we’ve both done a million times. You’re different.”

His heart gave one of those almost painful whumps and he had to swallow before saying, “Thank God. Because I’m sitting here feeling like a regular, dumb-ass guy who just happened to rub a lamp and ended up with a goddess genie in his lap and I was hoping to get a really good taste of you before you figured out how much better you could do.”

The look on her face was a combination of amazement and disbelief and happiness and humor that seemed to reach in and wrap a fist around his heart.

“I thought this was going to be a wild and fast chance for us to both get rid of some of this crazy sexual tension,” she finally said.

“And it’s not?”

“Well, it might be that too,” she said with a smile. “But it’s also turning into…more.”

Fuck yeah it was. Then Evan frowned. Fuck. Yeah, it was.

Then she wiggled on his lap and all Evan could think was the yeah.

“Kiss me, Cori.”

This time she did. No more talking. No more making him wonder if his heart would continue to function adequately. Or if it had ever really functioned before this. Just her mouth on his, her hands on his face, his hands on her hips.

For about ten seconds. Then their hands began moving. She slid hers to the back of his head and into his hair. He ran his down her thighs—her bare thighs—to her knees and back up. She shifted in his lap and pressed closer to his cock. He gripped her hips and brought her down against his hard length. The feel of her against him was relief and torture at the same time. He slipped his fingertips under the edge of the scrap of silk that was all that covered her sweet ass and the wet heat that he was now grinding against his fly.

“Evan,” she gasped as his fingers stroked the bare skin of her butt.

“Unbutton,” he said hoarsely.

She sat back slightly, which brought her against his cock more firmly. They both groaned and she quickly went to work on the buttons of the blouse.

“Hurry up, Cori,” he said, his tone more commanding than he’d intended. Not that it seemed to bother her at all. “I don’t want to rip Ava’s blouse. But I fucking will.”

Her eyes flew to his, the heat there obvious. “Damn, Counselor, I do love that firm tone of voice you pull out once in a while.”

“Do you now?” he asked, sliding one hand higher on her ass and squeezing. “I can get a lot more demanding than that.” Several demands went through his mind in a heartbeat, in fact.

She parted the front of the shirt and then slipped it off, leaving her in panties and bra and heels only. She reached to drape it over the seat on top of the skirt. The motion pressed her breasts against his chest. He wanted to dip his head and take one of those tips into his mouth, but he held back. For now.

“I don’t know,” she said, sitting back, settling her butt against his thighs. “You’re such a nice guy. Born and raised in Bliss, Kansas. The guy everyone wants around for a good time, but nothing too serious. Right?”

He watched her eyes, miraculous with those tempting-him-since-day-one breasts right there. He was a nice guy. And he was a hell of a good time. But he knew that she didn’t buy the whole nothing-too-serious thing. And that made him want her even more. She saw beneath his everything’s-a-party façade. Because she was the same person. She was more over-the-top, bold and beautiful and bright than he was, but yeah, she got him.

Which was why this absolutely felt serious. And he knew she wanted him right here, serious as hell, about everything that was about to happen. “Well, I can be demanding and polite,” he said.

“Oh, yeah?” A teasing smile lifting one corner of her mouth.

“Oh, sure. You don’t think I can say things like “Miss Carmichael, wrap those gorgeous, sassy lips around my cock”?” he asked.

He watched her swallow hard, but she said, “You didn’t even say please.”

He lifted a hand to the back of her hair, threaded his fingers through it, and tugged gently, bringing her mouth against his, “You’re going to be the one saying please.”

When he kissed her, it was hungry, but he held her still, so that he was the one taking it all from her. Then he released her lips, and said gruffly, “I want to see your nipples.”

She licked her lips and reached behind her.

“The one time you’re actually wearing a bra,” he muttered as her back arched so she could undo the tiny hooks.

She laughed, quickly tossing the bra away.

And he was finally eyes-on with the breasts that had been haunting him since New York.

Then Cori tried to kill him again by lifting her hands and cupping the gorgeous mounds, teasing the tips with her thumbs. “I hate bras.”

“You should never, ever, wear a bra again,” he said, unable, in spite of being a nice guy, to tear his eyes away from her playing with her nipples.

She laughed, the sound shooting to his cock as surely as the sight of her naked from the waist up.

“On second thought,” he said, without much thought, really, “you should always wear a bra. Unless you’re with me.”

She paused. “That sounds a little…possessive.”

“Yeah,” he looked up. Should he tell her he was never possessive of women? Never jealous? Or should he lie and say that this was totally normal for him?

“I don’t usually tolerate that,” she said, almost thoughtfully.

“But?” he asked, knowing there was more there.

“With you, it feels…”

“Tolerable?” he asked with a slight smile.

“Good,” she finally finished.

He took that in. Then slowly nodded.

She started to drop her hands, but he said firmly, “Keep going.”

Cori squirmed on his lap as she rolled her nipples between her thumb and fingers. “I want you to touch me, Evan.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere.”

“Does that make you wet?” he asked, finally lifting his eyes. “Does playing with your nipples make your clit ache?”

She blew out a breath. “Yes,” she said softly.

“Would having me suck on them make your pussy clench?”

“Holy crap,” she breathed. “You Kansas boys are dirty talkers, huh?”

“Well, you do think dirty talk is nice, don’t you?” he asked with a grin he was sure looked a little wicked. She did. He could tell in everything from the way her breathing quickened to how her nipples tightened to how she was looking at him.

“I love dirty talk,” she admitted.

“Then tell me how to make you come, Cori,” he said, his voice like sandpaper, his tone firm even without him consciously trying.

He was a dirty talker. It came naturally to him. And with Cori, hell, he had all kinds of things he could say about the things he wanted to do to her and how she made him feel, how he wanted to make her feel. But as he opened his mouth to say something about his tongue and her clit and the bed of his truck, he suddenly couldn’t say those words. It occurred to him that the things he wanted to say were more along the lines of worshipping her and that he needed a lot more room for the things he wanted to do and that she was going to need to let her sisters know she was going to be late to work in the morning. And none of that really felt dirty. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman, but it felt like…more. Damn, that was becoming the theme between them.

“Tell me how to touch you,” he said, focusing on her nipples. “Tell me exactly what you want.” There, maybe she could do the talking part.

“Your fingers,” she said after a second. “Ever since you took that caramel macchiato from me in New York, I’ve been thinking about your fingers curling around and holding that cup.”

Yep, he could do that. His fingers were practically itching.

“And I’m afraid I’m going to have to taste those sweet nipples. See if I was right about the flavor,” he told her.

She lifted herself slightly off of his lap, kneeling on the seat while straddling him. He leaned in and finally took the tip of one breast between his lips, licking, then sucking. She moaned and shifted impatiently, and Evan really had no choice but to run his hand up the back of her thigh, slip a finger under the edge of her panties, and slide over the hot, slick folds underneath.

She gripped his shoulders as he sucked harder and slid higher, dipping into the sweet wetness between her legs.

“Evan,” she panted. “More.”

I want to bury my face right here, he thought as he slid into her tightness. I want to spread you out and lick every inch of you. I want to hold your hair back so I can see your hot mouth around my cock. I want to feel your hair spread out over my chest and stomach. I want to smell my soap on you in the morning. I want to make you late for work and know it’s because we were lying in bed laughing and talking even though everyone will think it was because I was fucking you on the kitchen counter.

Shock and trepidation and confusion rocked through Evan as his thoughts spun. He had the most delicious nipple in his mouth, his fingers deep inside the hottest, sweetest pussy he’d ever touched, and he was thinking about laughing and talking with her.

He should just say the stuff about having her spread out with his face between her legs. Cori would like that, he knew it. Hell, it was the kind of stuff he said often enough. He’d actually love to hear some of the things she said in response. But his tongue seemed frozen. Well, not frozen exactly. He was doing something right to her nipple, judging by the moaning and way she was gripping his shoulder, and the wriggling against his hand. But he suddenly couldn’t talk dirty. To the woman who’d maybe had more of that than any of the other women he’d been with. To the woman who had admitted to loving it and who could, no doubt, give as good as she got.

What. The. Hell?

“Evan, please, more,” she said, lowering her mouth to his and giving him a hot, deep kiss.

That wasn’t dirty either. She wasn’t saying “fuck me” or “spank me” or even “harder” and yet her plea fired his blood. Well, he could at least do more. He moved his thumb over her clit and slid a second finger deep. He circled his thumb as he pumped in and out and took her other nipple into his mouth, sucking, then nipping slightly.

She moaned and moved against his hand, and it was only a couple of minutes before she was gasping his name and coming around his fingers.

She paused for a few seconds, breathing hard, and Evan moved his hand and mouth. She slumped against him then, wrapping her arms around his neck, and putting her face against his throat.

And they just sat like that. No dirty talk, no clothes being ripped off, no one fumbling for a condom.

They were in the front seat of his truck, she was mostly naked in his lap, and all he wanted to do was rub his hand up and down her back and enjoy the feel of her hair against his hand and arm, the smell of her body spray and shampoo surrounding him, the feel of her hot and spent in his arms.

If he’d been able to take his hands off of her, he’d run one over his face. And probably say something like fuuuuuck.

Finally, she lifted her head and took a deep breath. She leaned back to look at him. “Um, sorry about that.”

He lifted a brow. “Excuse me? Sorry for what?”

“It doesn’t usually go that fast. At least not without some toys or the chance of being caught or at least some liquor.” She frowned as if thinking about that. “We didn’t even really do the dirty talk, did we?”

“First of all, never be sorry for that,” he told her as he worked to tamp down thoughts of her doing all the toys-getting-caught-liquor stuff with another guy. “That was hot and sweet and…pretty much the best part of my year so far.” He gave her a grin. “And hey, I did say clit, pussy, and cock.”

“Yeah. And that was hot. But I guess…”

“What?”

“I guess I kind of thought when you and I did this, we’d go at it really fast and hard and dirty.”

Yeah, he would have thought that too. He nodded. “Yeah.”

“So…” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Should we try that?”

He wanted to. He wanted to reach between them, unzip his pants, and thrust deep. He honestly did. But he also…didn’t.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” he said. Hell, he thought he was crazy. “But I think maybe I should head home.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” At least he could be remembered as the only guy on the planet to not go for fast and hard and dirty with Cori Carmichael when invited to. Because there wasn’t another guy in the world who would say no to that.

“Um. Okay, then.” She clearly didn’t know what to say. She reached for the blouse draped over the seat and shrugged into it.

Evan clenched his fists to keep from reaching for her and clamped his jaw shut to keep from asking—begging—her to stay.

Then she ran a hand through her hair and slid off of his lap. She gathered the skirt and bra to her chest, opened the door and got out. She ducked down to look at him. “See ya, Evan.”

Yeah, there’d be no avoiding that. What with him dating her sister and all.

“’Bye, Cori.”

And with the length of time they’d been out here, her hair a mess, and her heading up the front in her panties only…the neighbors were definitely going to be talking.

* * *

“You’re in love with her, you dumb-ass.” Parker set a cup of coffee in front of Evan without being asked.

A sure sign he was concerned about his friend. At least as concerned as Parker got. Frankly, Parker felt like the people in Bliss, particularly his friends, had pretty great lives and he didn’t get too worked up over the minor dramas that cropped up here and there. Even when other people thought they were major.

“I’m sorry, what?” Evan asked.

“That’s why you couldn’t fuck her in the front seat of your truck like you do all the other girls,” Parker said, his tone making it clear that he thought this was obvious. “She’s different for you. The same old stuff—the dirty talk and the front seat and all of that—doesn’t feel right with her.”

As much as he hated to admit it, that made sense. The idea that he was in love with Cori wasn’t nearly as shocking as he would have thought it would be. It actually made sense. The girl was loveable. Plain and simple. And he was a highly intelligent guy. Okay, he was moderately intelligent. Anyway, he was smart enough to realize that she was special and to fall for that.

Evan was glad that Parker had to get to the restaurant at five to start serving breakfast at six. And he was glad that his friend had opened the front door for Evan in spite of the fact that Parker really hated when people messed with his schedule.

He was also glad that Noah had answered his text and joined them for the impromptu meeting. He didn’t often ask his friends, or anyone for that matter, for advice. Because, he agreed with Parker—they all had it pretty easy and great here. He just rolled with the punches and didn’t let the little things bug him much.

“You can’t talk dirty to the girl you’re in love with?” Noah asked. “That sounds like bullshit to me.”

“Of course you can,” Parker said. “But you have to understand that in the middle of telling her that you want her bent over the couch so you can fuck her with a dildo, you might also think about how you want to take her to the fair so she can ride the carousel and that you want to get her a necklace with her birthstone in it for her birthday.”

Evan and Noah didn’t say a word. Evan looked over at Noah to find the mechanic staring at Parker like he’d never met him before. Okay, so it wasn’t just him.

Evan turned back to Parker. “What?”

Parker sighed.

“Seriously? This isn’t hard to understand. When you’re in love, all of that stuff gets mixed up together.”

Parker straightened, and Noah and Evan swiveled on their stools to face the man who’d just walked in.

“You didn’t lock the damned door behind you?” Parker asked Noah.

“Sorry.”

“Hank, you know we don’t open until six,” Parker said.

Hank slid into the first booth. “Lights were on, door was unlocked, and coffee was being poured.”

“Private meeting, Hank,” Evan said. “I’ve got some…issues.”

“Yeah, you’re in love. I heard,” Hank said. “But you should be glad I’m here. At least I’ve actually been in love. Unlike these two yahoos you’re getting ‘advice’ from.” Hank even made the air quotes with his fingers.

“Maybe you should get a bell above the door like the pie shop has,” Evan said to Parker. “I didn’t even hear him come in.”

Parker was already filling a cup and handing it to Noah to hand to Hank. “I’m not putting a little tinkly bell above my door,” he said flatly.

Hank gave a long, happy sigh after he took his first drink. “This coffee sucks, Parker,” he said.

“I know, Hank,” Parker returned.

“But at five twenty in the morning, who the fuck cares,” Hank said.

“What are you doing up so early anyway?” Noah asked. “You guys usually come in for breakfast at seven thirty.”

“I started getting up to work the farm with my dad at five a.m. when I was ten years old,” Hank said. “You can’t break habits like that. I was just taking my morning walk and saw the lights.”

“You don’t need to finish your walk?” Parker asked.

“Coffee trumps walking. Any time of day,” Hank told him.

Evan grinned. It wasn’t the coffee—because Parker’s coffee really did suck—it was the company. Hank had lived in Bliss his whole life and had a number of friends. But that didn’t mean in the wee hours of the morning, or night, he wasn’t lonely. His wife had died about six years ago and he lived alone now.

“Okay, well, you’ve got a point. You’ve been in love before. It’s normal to have all of that—” He broke off with a cough. Could he discuss his sex life with Hank? “—everything you feel and think,” he finally went with, “get all mixed up?”

“Of course.” Hank shook his head. “That’s how you know it’s love. When you want to do more than fuck.”

Evan’s eyes widened at Hank’s blunt statement. But he realized the man had a point.

“Well, Evan’s messed around with some girls he’s friends with,” Parker decided to interject.

Evan gave him a frown.

“I mean, he didn’t just want sex from them,” Parker went on, ignoring Evan.

Hank nodded. “But when you were messing around, what were you thinking about? Tits and ass, right?”

Noah almost spit out the drink of coffee he’d just taken.

Evan thumped him on the back and said to Hank, “Yep, pretty much.”

“Well, when you’re in love, things like hearing her laugh at the jokes on the Late Show make you just as hot as how she looks when she bends over,” he said, rolling his eyes at Noah when he again choked slightly on his coffee. “And the way she cheats, badly, at Scrabble makes you want her just as much as the way she looks in lingerie. And even when she’s bare-assed naked, you make a note to get a bag of gumdrops the next time you’re at the store because they’re her favorites. It all gets mixed up together.”

Evan looked at the older man for a long moment. That all made perfect sense. And was all something he’d never experienced before Cori Carmichael blew into his life.

But he turned to Parker. “Okay, how the hell did you know all of that?” Parker had never, to Evan’s knowledge, been in love.

“You think Hank’s the only one that talks like that?” Parker asked, passing Noah the coffeepot so he could refill Hank’s cup. “They all do. They give advice like that—and on lots of other topics—to anyone who will listen.”

Evan shook his head. “Too bad we don’t have a bar in this town. That seems more like bar talk.”

Parker sighed. “You’re telling me.”

But Evan knew that his friend actually loved being the hub for all the gossip, political debates, sports talk and yes, even relationship advice, in Bliss.

“Hank, your coffee’s on me,” Evan told him as Evan slid off the stool. He needed to wrap his head around all of this. That he was in love with Cori. That it meant he could get dirty with her, even while he wanted to buy her a St. Bernard puppy, and that he could want to cover her naked body in pie filling and then lick it off, slowly, even while wanting to take her to the nearest photo booth and take strip after strip of photos with her.

“Well, I would hope so,” Hank said, saluting Evan with his cup. “Glad I could help you realize how you felt. I hope you and Ava are happy for as many years as I got with Maryann.”

Evan froze with a ten dollar bill suspended over the countertop.

Ava.

Right.

He was supposed to be in love with Ava. For four and a half more months.

Parker plucked the money from his fingers and said softly, “Breathe, buddy.”

Breathe. Yeah, okay, that was a good first step.

After which he really had no idea what to do.