Page 289 of The Winslow Brothers

“What’s your mood tonight?”

I don’t hesitate. Because the truth is, back in the day, Rachel Rose could be one cool motherfucker too. “A little wild. A little reckless.”

The hint of a smirk kisses his full lips. He moves closer then, closing the distance to mere millimeters now, and before I knowit, my hands are around his neck and his arms are around my waist, tugging me closer to his body.

I can feel the warmth of his skin through the material of my dress, and the sensation goes straight to my head.

Damn. He feels good.

We are as close as two people can physically be, and his body knows exactly how to move. His hips guide mine, and his hands put just the right amount of pressure on my waist.

Somehow, he manages to keep us close but make me feel like we’re not close enough.

This guy is smooth with a capital S.

The smell of his soft but masculine cologne consumes me, and I have to blink a few times to remind myself of why I’m even here, dancing with him.

Five years ago, I would’ve thrown caution to the wind and endeavored to let this moment go wherever it took me—which, undoubtedly, would have been to a place without clothes.

I wouldn’t have cared that he might as well be one giant walking, talking red flag. I wouldn’t have minded that all these women were so obviously vying for his attention. And I wouldn’t have cared that he was clearly the type of guy you didn’t bring home to meet the parents.

But I’m not interested in being that girl anymore, and even if I were, that’s not what this is about.

This is just a short-lived game that will endverysoon.

“What’s your name?” he whispers into my ear and leans back to meet my eyes.

“Whatever you want it to be.”

He lifts one eyebrow. “You’re really not going to tell me your name?”

“No.” I shake my head. “But I do want to give you something.”

“Give me something?”

“Uh-huh. Close your eyes.”

The corners of his lips curve up in amusement, but confusion has him tilting his head ever so slightly to the side.

“Just trust me,” I say confidently.

“Trust the girl who won’t give me her name?”

I bite my bottom lip and nod. “Sometimes you have to live a little dangerously, you know?”

He chuckles then, but also, to my surprise, he listens. Eyes closed, he stops dancing and stands there, waiting for my next move.

I lean forward and position my lips so that they are right beside his ear. “Hold out your hand,” I whisper and just barely brush my mouth against his neck as I pull away.

And he does. Hand out, eyes still closed, he follows my instructions.

Discreetly, I pull the sheer pink panties I took off in the bathroom over an hour ago out of the only place I couldhide them—my cleavage—place them in his hand, and close his fingers around the delicate material.

“You can open your eyes now.”

The gorgeous blue of his eyes is back in view, and he looks down at his hand for a long moment before eventually opening his palm to reveal my panties.

Intrigue, amusement, and a whole bunch of emotions flash across his face as he lifts his eyes to meet mine. “I take it these are yours?”

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