Leslie Kelly - Terms of Surrender

She nibbled her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’re sure? I mean, you didn’t rescind your invitation earlier because you’d changed your mind and don’t want to, right? Did I back you into a corner on this?”

He held his arms up, gesturing to the wide-open space of the garage bay that surrounded them. “No corners. No arm-twisting.” Then, stepping closer—close enough that his boot-covered feet nearly touched the pointy tips of her sexy shoes, hiding what were rumored to be magnificent feet, he added, “Let’s just go for it and see what happens, okay?”

“There’s that it again,” she mumbled.

“What?”

Shaking her head, she stared up at him, those big blue eyes softening. Her lips parted and she drew a slow, audible breath over them, as if she realized he was talking about going for a lot more than lunch.

He didn’t mean sex. At least, not right away. What he wanted to go for was a chance. Just an opportunity.

They’d clicked on sight. Now he wanted to know if that click could ignite something even more than a spark of sexual attraction.

A kiss would be a good start. One slow, deep, wet kiss, just to see what happened.

He wanted that—at least that—before this day was out. And if the kiss was as good as he suspected it could be, well, then they’d just have to see what happened.

“Okay,” she finally said. “I think we’ve got a date.”

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