Sorene gulped. It was bad enough they were sitting in the cab of the same pickup where they’d given their virginity to each other.

Could they be the reason the springs in the bench seat were shot? During the long, cold winter months, they’d taken full advantage of the time spent in the truck, and this far north, winter could last nine months.

A lot could happen in nine months. Babies were born in nine months.

Now, why the heck had she thought that?

They’d had one scare the summer before their senior year, which had shaken them up enough that they were extra vigilant when it came to protection from that point on.

Ash hadn’t made any comment about their history in this old pickup. Did he care about things like that? Men were known to be oblivious, not remembering anniversaries, forgetting important details about the women they were sleeping with, or getting them confused with other women they’d been with. Had Ash been with so many other women that something like where they’d first explored each other didn’t mean anything anymore?

“Sorene, what answer did you give me?” he prompted again.

He looked worried, his warm, brown eyes anxious.

“I didn’t give you one, as it was a drunken proposal and I wasn’t about to take it seriously.”

“What if I am serious?”

“Are you?” What was she asking? Of course, he wasn’t serious. How could he be? He’d just returned home a few days. You didn’t ask someone to marry you in that amount of time, regardless of your history. They didn’t even know the adult versions of each other.

He opened his mouth to respond, and she quickly cut him off. “Don’t answer that. This conversation is crazy. Let’s chalk it up to drunken ramblings.”

“Yet, what if the alcohol removed filters and I expressed what I really felt?”

Had he?

“This is pointless, and I need to get back to work.” She opened the passenger door and went to step out when he grabbed her arm.

“Sorene, don’t brush me off. Your answer is important to me. You are important to me.” His intense gaze burrowed into hers. “Having you here, in this truck where we loved each other the first time and so many times after, does that not mean anything to you? Do you not remember the promises we made to each other, the plans we made?”

She felt like he’d reached inside her chest and grabbed her heart. “I didn’t think you remembered,” she whispered.

He hauled her across the bench seat and into his lap, the door swinging shut on its own, cocooning them inside the warmth of the cab. He cupped her face in his large, rough hand, gazing deep into her eyes. “I remember everything that happened between us like it was yesterday. You’ve haunted me all these years. I’ve compared every woman I’ve met to you. So, yes, I’m serious. Marry me. Help me fulfil those promises we made to each other.”

“We don’t know each other anymore. It’s been ten years. You’ve been home two days.”

“What does time have to do with feelings of the heart? With this?” He kissed her, took her mouth in an attack meant to obliterate objection. He was out to prove his point, and he did it masterfully.

Time had done one thing; the man had learned some new tricks.

She found herself helpless against his desperate assault, his greedy mouth, his exploring hands, the hardening of his body under hers. Sensations swamped her and she whimpered, squirmed in his lap, pressing her body flush against his, trying to get closer. Her fingers dove into his hair, clutching the strands, and his tongue swept into her mouth. A ragged groan vibrated from him, answering a need in her that she’d suppressed all these years.

He lifted her, helped her to straddle his hips. Her head banged against the roof of the cab. How had they made love in the confines of the cab so easily before? It was downright cramped.

“Ouch,” she murmured before kissing him again. She never wanted that mouth off of hers.

He grabbed her hips and grinded against her, the thickness of him rubbing at just the right spot. Mewing purrs of encouragement escaped her, followed by harsh, demanding sounds from him.

“Here, let me—” he mumbled against her lips, twisting, and then swearing when he hit the steering wheel.

She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her, and then his hand cupped her breast, and a moan replaced the giggle. Somehow, he’d worked his way to unbuckling her overalls, past the buttons of her flannel shirt, and under her soft, white cotton tank.

“Good, God. No bra?” A sound escaped him that was more animal than human.

“Too confining when I’m working.”

He swiveled and laid her down on the seat, following her down. A spring jabbed her in the hip and she yelped.

“What is it?” He immediately lifted his upper body off her.

“The seat stabbed me.” She pushed against the cushion—cushion being a stretch for the board-like bench.

“Oh shit, let me see. This damn seat needs replacing, if not the whole truck traded in.” He worked at her overalls, pulling them down.

Suddenly, shyness overtook her. She hadn’t been naked with him in ten years. Ten years would show.

She didn’t have the tight body of a teenager anymore. It had softened and spread in places. While Ash’s body had hardened, filled out in all the right places. “Stop.” She grabbed his hands. “This is a bad idea.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Wrong place, Ash. Wrong time. We aren’t teenagers anymore.”

He lowered his head to rest his forehead against hers. “I need you, Sorene.”

It was hard swallowing past the lump of emotion his words created. She needed him too, but she needed more from him than just his body. She needed him to know her.

The her of the present, not the girl of the past.

She sat up and slid over to the passenger side, past the revengeful springs and bruise-inducing stick shift. She adjusted her clothing back to its original state, before he’d gotten his clever hands on them. “I need there to be more than sex between us.”

“This wasn’t just sex.” His eyes clouded, predicting an incoming storm. “Hell, I asked you to marry me.”

“I can’t take that serious until you get to know who I am now, and I learn who you are. I won’t base a decision as important as marriage on the past. We need to see what, if anything, there is between us in the present.”

He gave her a thunderous, ravenous look. “I think there’s plenty between us in the present. Chemistry like that doesn’t form out of thin air.”

She shifted her hips on the seat, trying to ease the ache deep inside her. “I need more than chemistry. I’m not a wide-eyed teenager anymore who lives in the moment.”

He fell back against the seat and faced forward, gazing out of the cracked, fogged-up windshield. “Okay, I hear you. So, we date. I can do that. Besides, I want to know everything about you. You fascinate me, Sorene Wilde, always have.”

Warmth filled her chest at his words. “How about we start with drawing up plans for the finishes the lake house needs? We’re supposed to be working together, remember.”

He gave her a crafty smile. “Let’s create a different type of magic then.”