The limo cruised through the city with a soft purr, the glow of streetlights flickering across the sleek black windows. Inside, the mood was electric—low music playing from the built-in speakers, the scent of cologne and expensive fabric thick in the air. Peter was chattering about the afterparty plans, but Nathan barely heard a word.
His eyes were glued to Rory.
She sat across from him, legs crossed at the knee, hands resting delicately in her lap. The burgundy and black of her dress hugged her curves like a second skin, and each time the city lights flickered through the window, the lace shimmered like it had a heartbeat of its own. Her lips matched the color of her dress, and when she smiled softly at something Peter said, Nathan felt like he might actually melt through the seat.
He
