“Can I look now?” Carrie’s knees tap together as I pull off onto the gravel road leading to our final destination, drawing my attention to her thighs and all that soft, creamy skin I can’t wait to get my mouth on as soon as I get her out of her shorts.

“Not yet,” I say, slowing to keep the wheels from kicking dust into the car. “The surprise is better if you don’t see it coming.”

She growls softly. “You’re killing me, Hunter. I don’t like surprises. I really don’t.”

“You’re going to like this one, so keep ’em closed. We’re almost there.” Guiding the Cadillac around piles of old furniture, plywood, clothes mildewing in weathered garbage bags, and the rest of the trash that makes the Tate place look like something from an episode of Hoarders Take on the Great Outdoors, I shift into low gear to make the climb up the hill at the back of the property.

The Tates were an odd crew, but their tendency to collect strange shit is what makes this place so special. It’s a gorgeous slice of land, ten acres that would be ideal for a hobby farm or a boutique hotel. But so far no one’s put in a bid. The property’s been for sale for years, since the last Tate sister passed, and it’s going to take someone with imagination to see past the cleanup that needs to be done.

And the general creepiness, I think as we hit the top of the hill and pull past a row of carousel horses stuck into the ground on the side of the drive.

They’re from several different carousels, and the mismatched bodies and varying degrees of rot send spiders crawling up my spine every time. Even more than the trash heaps, the horses are why I want Carrie’s eyes covered until we get to the cool part of the surprise.

Better if she doesn’t see what we had to go through to get there until after the fun has been had.

“What’s that smell?” Carrie lifts her nose into the air.

“Old logs,” I say, figuring it’s not really a lie. The rotten horses were all logs at one point or another.

“Smells like my grandmother’s house,” Carrie says. “Her roof leaked all the time. One time I found moss growing on the legs of her coffee table.”

“We’ll be past it soon.” I turn right, heading toward the clearing at the back of the property.

“And you promise you’re not driving me out in the middle of the woods so no one will hear me scream while you carve out my kidneys for your kidney collection?”

I smile. “I don’t have a kidney collection.”

“You’re a liver man? Lungs? Pancreas? Don’t say intestines, because that’s just disgusting.”

I reach over, squeezing her thigh. “I have no designs on your organs, just all the skin holding them together.”

“That’s what they all say.”

I laugh as I pull into a parking spot in the middle of the field and cut the engine. “Open your eyes, woman. We’re here.”

Her hands fall to her lap as she blinks fast, her lips parting with a soft gasp as she gets her first glimpse of the giant screen surrounded by redwoods. The trees block the light from the setting sun but allow enough rosy glow through the limbs to make the Tate’s private drive-in feel like something from a fairy tale.

“Oh, Rafe… It’s incredible.” Carrie turns, taking in the rest of our surroundings. “Where are we? Why isn’t anyone else here?”

“Technically we’re not supposed to be here, either,” I confess. “The Tates used to let my brothers and me come watch movies whenever we wanted, but they’ve all passed away and the property is up for sale.” I hold up my keys. “But I’ve still got the key to the movie shed, and I know how to load the projector.”

Her smile is delighted—bright, beautiful, and as unfazed by the fact that we’re trespassing as I’d hoped it would be. “Can I help? I’ve never seen a projector up close before. I want to know how it works.”

“Sure, come on back.” I swing out of the car and start around to her door, but she’s already out, bounding through the tall grass pushing up from the gravel covering the clearing to grab hold of my hand.

“Come on.” She tugs me faster toward the red shed at the back of the rows of speakers. “This is not the time for the sexy swagger. You have to learn to walk faster sometimes, like when exciting things are happening.”

I laugh. “I don’t get in a hurry, Haverford. And we have to wait at least thirty minutes for it to be dark enough to start the show, anyway.”

“Not if we pick something we’ve seen. Our memories will fill in the blurry parts.”

“Picking something we’ve seen is probably a given,” I admit. “The Tate’s collection is mostly old horror flicks and every movie ever made about Vietnam, with a few random cartoons and things thrown into the mix.”

Carrie slows and some of the excitement fades from her expression. “Oh. Well, maybe a cartoon, then? If that’s okay? War movies make me sad, and I confess I’m a huge baby who is terrified by anything scary.”

I squeeze her fingers with a grin. “Does that mean you’ll be crawling into my lap, begging me to protect you from the chainsaw murderer?”

She snorts. “It means I’ll be wetting my pants in your friend’s car. Seriously, I’ll have nightmares for weeks if I watch people getting murdered in the middle of the woods while we’re at an abandoned drive-in movie theater in the middle of the woods. My imagination is way too hyperactive to let that slide.”

“I hear you.” I release her hand as we reach the shed and fit the key into the lock. “There are a couple raunchy eighties comedies in the mix, too. But if we can’t find them, we’ll watch a cartoon. They’ve got Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and ‘Heigh-Ho’ is a pretty kick ass make out song you know, when you think about it.”

“You calling me a ho, mister?” She starts to step past me into the musty interior, but I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close.

“Never.” I lean down, brushing my lips softly against hers as I whisper, “But I definitely want you naked in the backseat after the stars come out. I want to fuck you with moonlight in your hair.”

“That sounds lovely.” She presses onto tiptoe to deepen the kiss, breath hitching as my hand finds its way up her T-shirt to cup her breast. “But maybe we could do a warmup session, first? Just to hold us over until it’s dark?”

“I think that can be arranged.” I roll her nipple between my fingers as I simultaneously pop the button at the top of her shorts. A moment later, my hand is down the front of her panties and my fingers are pushing inside where she’s wet. And fuck, but it drives me crazy to feel how ready she is for me, to know she’s spent the ride here wanting me as much as I want her.

“I need to be inside you ten minutes ago, Trouble,” I breathe against her lips as she works open my belt with shaking hands.

“Yes, please,” she says, as I jerk her shorts down over her ass. The material skims her legs as it falls to the ground, and then I lift her into my arms, urging her legs around me. I shove my jeans and boxers down far enough to free my cock and then she’s there, slick and hot, sinking down onto my suffering length.

But the moment I’m buried inside her, I suffer no more. Bliss sharpened by anticipation cuts through me, severing my ties to everything but this moment, this woman, this pleasure pulsing hot and fast through my veins.

“Jesus, I missed you.” She clings to my shoulders as I spin us both, leaning her against the wall of the shed, allowing each thrust to glide deeper into the only place my cock wants to be. “Twenty-four hours is too long.”

“Way too long,” I agree, groaning as she drags her teeth across my jaw. “You should come stay with me until you’re ready to go back to the city.”

“I can’t. We’d get caught.” She rocks into me with sharper rolls of her hips, showing me how she wants it. And I am, as always, happy to oblige.

“No, we wouldn’t.” I grip her ass tight in my hands, grinding deep, loving the way she trembles in response.

“Yes, we—” She breaks off with a moan. “Damn Rafe, I’m already so close.”

“Me, too. God, baby, you drive me crazy.”

“Yes,” she gasps, fresh heat rushing from her body to coat my cock, easing my way, giving me the freedom to fuck her harder, faster, until our bodies are slamming together and the sounds of skin against skin and breath coming fast are the only thing I can hear over the thunder of my heart.

And then Carrie cries out, nails digging into the skin at the back of my neck as she comes, her pussy gripping me tight, refusing to let me go until I answer her pleasure with my own. With a shudder, I let the reins slip through my fingers, surrendering to the wave that sweeps through my body, leveling me with its intensity, its beauty.

Beauty isn’t a word that usually pops into my head during sex, but it’s true.

It’s beautiful with her, so easy and simple and honest. There’s no guilt or worry, no shame, there’s just this woman who throws open the doors to her self and puts her pleasure in my hands, holding nothing back.

“Damn, Trouble,” I murmur against the damp skin at her neck, eyes squeezed closed as the last tremors pulse through me. “You’re ruining me for other pussy.”

“It’s so good,” she agrees, brushing my hair from my face as she grins up at me. “But you’ll eventually recover. Even chocolate cake gets old after a while.”

“I hate chocolate cake.”

“What?” Her swollen lips form a scandalized O that makes me want to kiss her again. So I do, even as she protests between kisses that chocolate cake is the best thing that ever happened to mankind.

“Aside from cupcakes.” She leans her head back as I kiss my way down her neck. “Because cupcakes have all the fun of cake, but with a higher cake-to-icing ratio.”

“Not into sweet things. Except your pussy.” I curse softly beneath my breath. “So, I’m pretty pissed at myself for sperming it up in there and ruining it for my mouth for the rest of the night.”

She laughs. “Oh my God. Put me down.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask as she laughs harder. “What?”

“Sperming it up.” She squirms out of my arms and reaches for her discarded shorts. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you? How are you the reigning Sex King of Sonoma County when you say stuff like that?”

I shrug, grinning as I adjust my clothes. “Standards are low around here?”

“I don’t think that’s it.” She shakes her head, eyes sparkling. “I think it’s your magical cock making up for your ridiculous mouth.”

“My mouth is not ridiculous. And I’ll prove it as soon as I get you back to my place for a shower tonight.” I draw her back into my arms because ten seconds after I’ve come, I start craving her body again. She’s an addiction, this woman.

“We can’t.” Her palms brush back and forth across my chest. “You said yourself—you never know when Dylan’s coming in to work. As early as he gets up, he could be downstairs making beer before I have a chance to sneak out.”

“Then I’ll carry you out in my suitcase. You’re small. You’ll fit.”

She rolls her eyes. “No, I won’t. And my mom is watching my every move, too. She’s just looking for a reason to lecture me lately, and I don’t want to give her one by staying out all night again.”

“All right.” I sigh, reluctantly abandoning my shower plans. “As long as you’ll ride my magical cock in the back seat while I bite your nipples.”

Carrie’s teeth dig into her bottom lip as she shakes her head.

“Is that a no?”

“No,” she says softly. “That’s me wondering how you can make me want you again when I just came so hard I still can’t feel my toes.”

Dropping my hands to cup her ass, I lean close and whisper, “Because I’m ruining you, too. You’re hooked on my cock, Trouble. Admit it.”

She grins, raking her nails over my swelling length through my jeans. “Fine, I admit it. So what should we do about this mutual addiction? You think we need a twelve-step program?”

I shake my head. “No, we need twelve days alone on a beach with nothing to do but each other. I could get away in August. Maybe sooner if I get Cal to watch the shop. You up for a sex-cation? We could rent a house on the beach in Mexico, see if we can set a world orgasm record?”

“Sounds tempting,” she says even as she steps out of my arms, the tension creeping into her features making it clear I’ve said the wrong thing. “But I can’t really commit to anything in the future. I’m not in that headspace right now.”

“It’s just sex, Carrie,” I say, lips curving. “I’m not asking you to be my steady date. I’m asking you to let me make you feel good in between relaxing on the beach and drinking beer with fresh lime in it. You could use some downtime.”

“I could.” Her hands slip into her pockets as her gaze falls to the ground. “I’m just not sure where I’ll be with work and the scandal and everything else by then. I might be filing a lawsuit against the last guy I went to the beach with, you know? Doesn’t seem like the best time to head off to the beach with someone else. Especially someone I’m supposed to be keeping things low key with.”

I nod, fighting not to let my disappointment show. It’s bad enough that I’m so bummed that she turned me down. It would be even worse if she knew it. Instead, I smile and nod toward the increasingly shadowy interior of the shed. “I hear you. No big deal. But we should probably pick a movie. It’s almost dark enough to start something.”

She grins, clearly relieved. “Oh, good. I’m excited. I’ve never been to a drive-in.”

“Drive-in virgin, huh?” I tease as I step around her. “Don’t worry, I won’t be gentle.”

“I would hope not,” she quips.

I slap her ass, making her laugh as we flip on the lights and open the metal locker holding the Tate film collection. We find a copy of Sixteen Candles at the back of the locker, behind Good Morning Vietnam and Full Metal Jacket, and settle in for some light-hearted teen angst.

We’ve barely made it past the first fifteen minutes, however, before we’re all over each other again, tumbling into the backseat as the movie flickers in the background.

As promised, Carrie straddles me, riding me as I suck and bite her nipples, giving me exactly what I want from her—hot sex with no strings.

She’s right. It’s better this way. Just her and me and this moment, without a past or a future or anything to interfere with how simple and perfect this pleasure is.

But when I drop her off at the edge of the vineyard later, so she can sneak into her tiny cottage unobserved, I can’t help wishing I was going with her.

Or that she was coming with me.

Wanting more time doesn’t mean I want feelings or the future. Wanting more time just means I want to wake up with her in my bed so we can start the day off as nature intended—with an orgasm or two—and have sex in a hammock on the beach.

I just need to find a better way to pose the question, a way that won’t scare off my commitment-phobic sex kitten. Luckily for me, as a long-standing commitment-avoider myself, I know where she’s coming from.

By the time I get home, I already have a few ideas simmering.

I’m going to have Carrie in my bed again. Oh yes, I will…

It’s just a matter of time…