She has what he needs ... in every sense of the word.
Evan Ross is desperate. If he fails to acquire a few specific properties for his boss, he'll lose everything he owns. Standing between him and his salvation? One rebellious, stubborn, and sexy-as...
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Traffic was nonexistent. Blackness stretched in all directions. Lane markers and an occasional yellow sign broke up the dark rural countryside.
In the passenger's seat, Dani sat legs stretched outward and popped another breath mint. The zingy spearmint dissolved on her tongue, sending a blast of WOW into her sinuses and knocked any sleepiness on its ass.
For the umpteenth time since getting into Evan's truck, she re-crossed her ankles. And for the umpteenth time, Ava's faint voice chided her to—Get your ass over there, girl. Right now!
Yep, the ride home was the perfect time to cultivate the simmering flames their dancing had sparked. To skim her hand between his legs and cup the cock that had given her lonesome clit a thrill each time she pressed against it.
If she scooted over, she'd put herself in a position to allow Evan's long arm to hang over her shoulder and fondle a greedy breast.
But...
Despite digging the tantalizing heat that crept up her arm and blossomed in her chest from just holding his hand, and how their slow dance not only infused a craving to experience the same full-body contact minus clothes, and how being with him made her pussy wetter than a real toad-strangler—she didn't budge.
Her principle to never ride glued to a man's side refused to be uprooted.
I like him. More than any guy in recent memory, but hell's bells if I'm going to ride bitch! Don't matter if it's pitch black and there's no one around to see me.
Gambling on the charming and flirty approach, she sweetly asked, "Want another mint?"
"Yes, please. The lasagna was delicious, but definitely garlicky."
"I'm sure drowning your bread in the garlic oil didn't help. Here you go." She leaned over enough to place a laced mint between his lips.
He sucked it in along with the tip of her finger. Her lady lips puckered, sending a mild quiver up her spine.
"Thanks. We should do this again next Saturday."
She could've been a genie locked in a Champagne bottle with the amount of happy bubbles dancing in her head.
Hot damn! This date ain't officially over and he's planning the next. Course, he might change his mind after getting lucky. Which is all the more reason to hold something back tonight. Give him something to fantasize about. Give him a reason to keep chasing.
"Yeah, I'd like to but only if you think your toes will be healed up by then."
Evan chuckled. "My toes are fine. You did fine. I couldn't have asked for a better dance partner."
"Please, you don't have to sugar coat it."
"I'm not." He glanced over. "I can't say that for the women who claim to have gone to dance school since they were old enough to walk. You'd be surprised how many times my feet and shins have suffered from an overzealous partner. Not to mention being punched in the face."
