He swore. His knees weakened. He was grateful to be leaning against the house. There wasn’t a scrap of material on her. No bra, which he’d known, and no panties to cover her waxed pussy, which he was grateful he hadn’t known about or she’d have been bent over the couch already. Sucking in air like he’d just run for miles, he devoured every inch of her pale body with a ravenous gaze. The proud angle of her chin and shoulders, her small but lushly curved breasts, her flat stomach, and her mile-long legs. She turned in a circle with her arms outstretched, showing off her elegantly curved spine and perky little ass. “Last call,” she said, facing him again. “If this doesn’t catch your interest, I’ll head out. You can keep the cake.” Christ, she was sassy and bold. Jack had no idea who the woman standing in front of him was. It damn sure wasn’t the Rachel he remembered, a woman who’d coped with her vindictive aunt by staying away from home as much as possible.
