The black SUV purred through the quiet Chicago streets, city lights sliding across the windows like liquid gold. Henry’s hand rested on Andrea’s thigh, fingers tracing slow, absent circles that sent little sparks racing up her skin. In the back seat, Mindy and Marcus were still riding the high of their narrow escape, voices overlapping in easy laughter.

Henry’s lips twitched, but his eyes stayed on the road. His thumb pressed a little firmer into Andrea’s thigh, sliding higher under the slit of her emerald dress until the heat of his palm branded her bare skin. Andrea shifted in her seat, pressing her thighs together as the memory of the...