Considering he’d waited until everyone was distracted to ask her, Zoey was fairly sure the blankets weren’t the only reason why Graham invited her to go somewhere, just the two of them, alone.

Feeling her cheeks flush in response to the heat in his eyes, Zoey nodded. “Absolutely.”

They walked around the lake to where he had left his truck. And yes, it was still near people, because everyone in town was at the lake right then, but compared to where they had spent the afternoon, it was as close to privacy as they were going to get.

Drawing her in close, Graham leaned against the side of the truck bed. Denied his hands on her for too long, Zoey pulled his face down to hers, pressing into his warm, strong body. It should be illegal to look that good, to kiss her like her legs were going to buckle, to steal her breath but keep her desperate for more. By the time it occurred to her she needed to breathe at some point, they were both winded. The air had grown cool, and it felt good on her heated neck.

“I thought we were getting blankets,” she panted.

“That was code for ‘do you want to go make out with me in my truck?’”

“Yes. We need blankets. All the blankets. Brrr, so cold.”

He scooped her up, dropping a giggling Zoey over the side of the truck and into the bed. Without bothering with the tailgate, he swung himself over, joining her. And yes, there were several blankets tucked in there, along with a cooler and some snacks, but Zoey was far more focused on sneaking a blanket over them. She kicked off her shoes for comfort, then snuggled against him.

“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” he teased her.

“Only if you want.” She watched Graham settle his weight on his elbow next to her.

“Did you have any doubt?” A hand slid down her hip, warm and slow. “Hey there, Zoey Bear.” Somehow the greeting was far softer, far sexier than ever, his voice husky in the growing dimness.

“You’re missing the fireworks,” Zoey reminded him, a shiver of anticipation rolling up her spine.

The lightest touch of his fingertips tracing along her arm caused her to shiver all over again, even as she moved in closer.

“Are you sure you won’t miss out?” she pressed.

“You or those stinky old light shows? I’m picking you any day of the week. Although as much as I’d love a recreation of the Titanic sexy scene, I don’t think we’re going to have much privacy in here.” Graham’s eyes reflected the light of a massive multicolored firework.

“That’s what blankets are for.”

A mischievous expression spread across his handsome face. “Zoey, you keep getting better and better by the minute.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Only the tourists. They’re a dime a dozen. What’s your name again? Ingrid? Jessica?”

He deserved the playful slap of her hand on his muscled bicep. “You’re a brat,” Zoey said. “Someone should pay me for putting up with you all this time.”

“Oh, definitely.” Then Graham dipped his head to hers. For a man who spent so much of his time pretending not to care, the careful way he slid his hand down her side, squeezing her hip before tracing the length of her leg, told her everything.

“I can’t promise we won’t have visitors any moment,” he warned her.

“I don’t care.”

He gazed down at her, hunger and a hundred other indecipherable emotions in his eyes. “Zoey? Are you sure about this?”

Graham’s thumb traced a circle around her navel, voice husky with desire. Just his thumb. So far, he’d kept his contact with her minimal, but as he opened his hand, covering her stomach with his palm, Zoey wanted to know what it felt like to be in this man’s arms, his touch unrestrained.

“I’m surer about wanting you than I’ve ever been about anything. I’m just worried about what happens after.”

Some guys would have told her that didn’t matter. If Graham had told her it didn’t matter right then, Zoey would have let him convince her. Instead, his eyes shadowed, his expression growing tight.

“Yeah. Me too.”

His hair was soft and felt good between her fingers.

“How ‘in’ are you?” she asked.

“Eighty-twenty,” Graham admitted roughly. “The eighty is ready to pull this blanket over our heads, right here, right now.”

Eighty-twenty. Which meant twenty percent of him was unsure. It shouldn’t have hurt, but for some reason, that twenty burned.

“And twenty wants to go find someone else?”

“You’re leaving, Zo. I can’t…” He hesitated. “This isn’t some summertime romance. I’m not sixteen. I need more in my life, and I can’t just fall for you.”

“I never asked you to.”

“Darlin’, you might not be asking me to. But every time you turn those gorgeous eyes my way, you’re sure as shit daring me to.”

That was as close to a declaration of his feelings as Zoey was going to get. In truth, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear more. Graham wasn’t the only one afraid of what falling in love would do to them. He was right, this wasn’t a summertime romance. It was a couple more days, and then it would be done.

Graham Barnett would be nothing but a memory. A good memory, but like all memories, he would eventually fade.

Instinctively tightening her fingers into his arms in resistance to his loss, she looked up at him. “Graham? Can we not talk about what we can’t have and just enjoy what we do? Because this started out as the absolute worst vacation, but meeting you…”

A sweet smile eased the strain in his features. “It’s pretty awesome, right? I’m pretty cool.”

“You’re actually the biggest dork I have ever met.” Zoey leaned in and kissed him. In a soft voice, she added, “Eighty-twenty isn’t all that bad.”

“No, gorgeous. And if I were being honest, that shit’s more like eighty-five-fifteen.”

“We’re getting closer.”

Graham curled his arm under the small of her back, gently drawing her beneath him. “Ninety-two-eight,” he murmured huskily, pressing a kiss to her neck, then another to her collarbone.

“Hit ninety-three-seven, and I might pull this blanket up no matter what you say.”

Graham kissed her, this kiss deeper, more passionate. Showing her how much he wanted her.

“We’re at least ninety-four, six.”

Giggling as his warm breath and the stubble from his two-day beard tickled her neck, Zoey wriggled her toes against his ankles, tugging the blanket up higher. “In that case…”

Maybe in another time, in another place, Zoey might have been too shy to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss Graham like her life depended on it, knowing there were people who could walk by. But all eyes were turned to the massive fireworks in the sky. All eyes except for his. The only thing Graham was looking at was her.

When Zoey’s phone buzzed in her jeans side pocket, she ignored it, far too focused on the warm kisses trailing a path from her pulse point to the base of her neck. It rang again, then once more.

“The one time my phone actually works up here…” She reached into her pocket and turned it off without looking at the screen.

Lips curving against her skin, Graham wrapped his hand around her hip, pulling her tighter to his muscled form. In Zoey’s world, the low fifty-degree temperatures were cool, just on the shy side of chilly, but Graham was born and bred Alaskan. She doubted he even noticed anything above thirty. She slipped her hands beneath the hem of his shirt, sliding her palms across his stomach before tugging lightly at the piece of clothing between them.

“It’s like that, is it?”

“Mm-hmm. I’m curious.”

“You and me both.” His voice deepened with desire as his eyes scraped down her form. Reaching behind his neck, he grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged it over his head, tossing it off to the side. The sight of cut abdominal muscles and a broad, muscled chest greeted her. A little sigh of lust escaped her throat.

“I’m so disappointed,” she teased, because there was no way she could be. He made a low noise of masculine approval when her fingernails dug into his hard sides, tugging him back down to her. When his thumb slid along the hem of her shirt, she leaned into his touch.

“We still good?” Graham checked.

“Perfect,” Zoey breathed.

His palm spread across her stomach, eyes meeting hers. “Fair’s fair.”

A massive, sky-covering firework exploded above their heads, casting them both in a flash of brilliant white light, the boom rattling his truck. Jerking at the sudden explosion, Zoey realized she had pressed into him instinctively. Particularly one specific part.

If Graham was startled to find her breast abruptly in his hand, he handled it well.

“I was going to take this slow, but by all means. Lead the way.”

Waggling his eyebrows suggestively, Graham ran a skilled thumb over the side of her breast. Unable to keep from giggling at his antics, Zoey sidled out of her own shirt, hoping that his warmth and the blanket would save her from freezing any of her own dangly bits.

She wasn’t sure what to expect, but when Graham buried his nose between her breasts and began making rooting, animal noises, she dissolved into helpless giggles. Recognizing the pleased expression on his face, Zoey shook her head, heart full.

“I love you,” she said.

The hands on her went still. When she realized her word choice, Zoey bit her lip, wondering if she’d messed things up.

“I mean, I love this. Being around you.”

Graham’s expression was hard to read, and the dim light didn’t help much. But when he ran his palm soothingly down her breastbone, Zoey knew it would take more than a wrong—if true—word to screw up whatever this was between them.

He gazed down at her as if memorizing her features.

“Me too.”

This time, when he bent his head to hers, all jokes between them gave way to even better things.