The invitation said casual cocktail attire. But Rachel never did “casual” the way others did. Her dress was satin, low at the back, high at the thigh—and it moved with a whisper every time she walked.
Jake noticed. He always noticed. Especially the way she kept adjusting it like she was daring gravity.
When they finally slipped out onto the balcony, away from the crowd, he leaned close and asked, “You’re doing this on purpose?”
She grinned, wicked and knowing. “I thought you’d appreciate the lack of… distractions.”
His hand barely touched her waist, and she sighed, like she’d been waiting all evening for just that.