The drive to the gala unfolded like the prelude to a confession.
City lights streaked past the tinted windows, each one reflected in her dress as liquid gold. Eve sat quietly beside him, hands folded in her lap, trying not to fidget. The silk of her gown whispered softly with every shift of her legs. Ryan’s right hand held the steering wheel; his left rested lazily on her bare thigh through the slit in her dress.
His thumb moved in slow, absent circles.
She caught the motion and bit back a smile. “You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Doing what?” he asked, feigning innocence.
She tilted her head towards him. “Trying to get me worked up before we arrive.”
He smirked without looking at her. “Would that be such a tragedy?”
She sighed, trying not to grin. “You’re impossible.”
“I seem to rem
