Page 176 of Remy

I fucking love the curve of her lips.

I don’t see it often enough.

I doubt I ever will.

We climb into the Escalade and as she settles into the seat beside me I’m well aware it doesn’t take a genius to determine I’m messing with trouble.

Things between us feel different after that dance. Kinetic. Or maybe that’s just the thrill of the looming death sentence hovering over our heads. We’re teasing the mouth of the mouse trap. One wrong move and the trigger will snap.

I have to force myself to reverse out of the car space before I’m tempted to touch her again.

“I haven’t had a chance to thank you for my dress.” Her fingers dance over the satin fabric covering her thighs. “Is it another rental?”

“No, it’s yours.”

“Where did you get it?” Her lashes lift, those curious eyes eating up my periphery.

“It was something the family fashion label produced a few months before we sold the company. The new buyer wasn’t interested in releasing the line, so there’s a warehouse full of them back in Denver, none having seen the light of day until now.”

“This is an Alleya exclusive all the way from Denver?” She gapes.

I shoot her a knowing grin, surprised she remembers the name of my family business.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re aware of my google stalking, Remy. I don’t cut corners when it comes to research.”

“Your memory is pristine.”

“Yep. I bet I can recall more names of women you’ve dated than you can.”

“That wouldn’t be hard.” I can’t recall another woman existing before Ollie.

I turn my attention to the empty parking lot and drive out onto the street, preferring not to encourage a deep dive into my past.

“How did the dress get here?” she asks.

“I had it couriered.”

“When? How long have you been planning this trip?”

From the moment she walked away from me Monday night, heartbroken and alone. Mere minutes after I told her we need to keep our distance. “A few days.”

“But you’d been so adamant that we needed?—”

“I know what I said, and nothing has changed except my lack of restraint where you’re concerned.”

She pauses a moment, her attention feeling like a physical caress across the side of my face. “Well, thank you. It’s the nicest gift anyone has ever given me. I’ll never forget it.”

Neither will I.

Not the look. Not the feel. Not even the fantasy of stripping it from her body.

I’m a fucking sucker for this woman.

“I’m glad you like it.” I turn the corner, taking us down a quiet side street. “But next time I’ll think twice about giving you something that means you can no longer wear my ring.”

“I’m still wearing it.”

I pause at the intersection, taking the opportunity to scrutinize her again—her delicate collarbone… the elegant hands… her slender wrists.

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