Arianna froze when she felt his fingertips graze the bare skin at the top of her spine. The touch was light, almost testing, but it sent a shiver down her arms and straight through her stomach. He followed the curve of her back, tracing over each ridge of her spine until his hand came to rest against the stubborn line of buttons holding her dress together.
“You’ve been suffering in this thing all night,” he murmured, his voice deep and maddeningly calm.
Her breath caught. She wanted to move, to turn and glare at him for acting like he suddenly cared, but her body refused to obey.
One button popped open under his fingers, then another. She expected him to keep going, but instead he stopped, and when she glanced at his reflection in the mirror, he was smirking. Not just smirking—there was
