Page 87 of Making Over Maris

Her laugh echoed through the room.

They spent the night curled up in his big bed, alternately eating chocolate cake and talking and snoozing and making love. Sometimes she was on top. Sometimes he was. Either way it was wonderful. Sara couldn’t get enough.

That Jack had been willing to let her dominate him thrilled her to the core. That he seemed to enjoy it thrilled her more. It was something she’d always fantasized about but only tried one other time. And that had been a disaster.

She couldn’t banish the creeping hope that maybe, just maybe, he was the guy she’d been searching for—and he’d been there all along.

A part of her didn’t want to banish the hope.

That was the scary part.

She kept waking up and staring at him. And then she’d catch herself smiling.

And then he’d wake up too, or maybe she’d wake him up, and they’d make love again. Or not.

Somehow it didn’t seem to matter. Simply being with him was enough. Was wonderful.

When the sun filtered in through his big bay windows overlooking the sleeping Valley, they were both exhausted. But also quite sated.

She hummed with a pleasant sense of well-being.

“Do you want breakfast?” He kissed her nose. Then each eyelid.

“Mmm.” She couldn’t be expected to make a decision like that. “Do we have to get up?”

He chuckled. “We have to go to work.”

Crap. Wasn’t it the weekend? She rolled into him and snuggled.

“Come on, lazy bones. Up and at ’em.” He hopped out of bed with an enviable aplomb. For a naked guy. She watched him pad to the bathroom, enjoying the winking dimples of his ass. She’d never noticed those before. How fun would they be to smack?

And damn, speaking of that ass, it was awfully tight. Round. Perfect.

She licked her lips.

He poked his head back into the room. “Wanna take a shower together?” He waggled his brows and she grinned. Did she.

She was suddenly filled with inspiration. All kinds of naughty ideas involving soap and washcloths and toothbrushes… Inspiration enough to rise from the bed.

They were late for work again but it was hardly his fault.

For one thing, who could have predicted that thing Sara had started in the shower? And for another, they’d both completely forgotten, until it was time to dress, that Sara had nothing to wear but a latex catsuit and a trench coat.

Definitely not acceptable office attire at Trillo-Maris.

In the end he gave her a t-shirt and a pair of sweats—that she had to hold up with a fist—and took her home to change.

They’d gotten distracted there too.

So they were late for work. Again.

If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything. But Jack suspected they noticed. Jenny, for one, was in a snit. Whenever she saw him, or saw him with Sara, her eyes would narrow and she’d thrust out a lip.

But Jack didn’t care.

He was too tired to care.

He was napping in his office when Sara came by at lunchtime. She handed him a slender square package.