Page 28 of False Assumptions

Chapter Thirteen

“Hey.”

Evan’s sexy smile had Layla’s knees weakening when she answered the door. He’d cleaned up for their date, wearing an untucked white button-down shirt over his dark wash jeans, a black blazer over it to ward off the chill in the March evening. He made the dressy casual clothes look extra yummy, but really, he looked that way no matter what he wore. Hooded sweatshirt, clingy henley, dressy button-down—he made them all look like they were made just for him, accentuating his broad shoulders and muscular chest. She’d gotten to run her hands over those shoulders and that chest the day before. And if the look on Evan’s face told her anything, it was that he intended for them to have their hands on each other again by the end of the night.

“Hey.” She opened the door wide so he could come in, goosebumps rippling down her arms. If she were prone to lying to herself, she’d try to convince herself it was from the cool air coming in with the golden light of the sunset as Evan stepped into her apartment. But it was all Evan, and the heady sensation of his panty-dropping smile all for her.

Because he’d said he wanted strings. That meant a relationship. At least that’s what Layla meant. And if he wanted that, then that meant no one else would be getting the benefit of that smile.

The thought made her shiver.

If someone had told her a month ago that she’d be going on a date with Evan Coopman, she would’ve laughed and laughed. And laughed some more after she’d calmed down and thought about it again.

But he’d surprised her. In so many ways. This was just another thing to add to the list.

Closing the door behind him, Evan stopped her with a hand on her arm. He used the point of contact to tug her back around to face him, one hand cupping her cheek to tilt her face up to his. The kiss he gave her was soft, the press of his sensual lips to hers firm but not fierce. She couldn’t help letting out a little sigh and relaxing into him, her nerves settling with his touch.

He pulled back, those same lips forming a sexy, closed-mouth smile. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I left last night.”

“Really?” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and pulled his hand down, but didn’t let go.

He let out a low, throaty chuckle. “Why does that surprise you? I told you last night I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while. Now that I have, I don’t want to stop.”

“Okay.”

His smile grew wider, and she stared at his lips. They parted, his thumb running over them. He’d done that the first day they’d met. She’d been so mad when he’d pulled out that trick. Then it had been a deliberate flirtation as provocation. Was he doing it now on purpose? She’d seen him do it before when he was thinking. She could watch him do that all day. Those large, capable hands combined with that mouth. God, what else could he do with them?

“Are you ready?”

His voice interrupted her thoughts, making her blink. “What? Oh. Yeah. Let me grab my jacket and purse.”

Her eyes flicked up to his, and he gave her a knowing smirk, but just said, “Okay.”

She should probably be embarrassed to be staring at him like that, but since he’d been staring at her too, she couldn’t muster up the emotion.

Once out in the car, Layla twisted around to set her purse in the backseat like she usually did with her backpack. It was small enough that she could’ve held it, but it’d become a habit to put her things on the floor in the back over the last couple of weeks. As she was turning back to face the front, something caught her eye.

Stretching a bit more, she pulled the familiar book off the backseat. “What’s this?”

It could just be the reflection of pink from the sunset, but it looked like Evan was blushing. He glanced at the book in her hands out of the corner of his eyes as he started the car.

“You were talking about how much you loved those books, so I thought I’d check them out. See what all the fuss was about.”

She ran her fingers over the illustration of a golden dragon on the cover ofDragonflightby Anne McCaffrey. “And?”

“I’m only about halfway through. It’s not my usual thing, but I can see the appeal.”

“Yeah, well, you likeThe Great Gatsby, so …”

He shook his head, his amusement clear on his face. “It’s a classic. I can’t believe you don’t like it. It’s a great slice-of-life look at the roaring twenties.”

“You mean it’s a snooze-fest about rich people banging each other. If I wanted that, I’d watch one of theReal Housewivesshows.”

He laughed, the sound filling the car. She couldn’t help smiling in response, enjoying making him laugh, having someone share her sense of humor.

Stopped at a light, he reached over and retrieved the book, placing it in the back again. “We could haveReal Housewivesmarathon later if you want.”

She shuddered and made a gagging sound. “Only if you want to torture me.”

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