It meant having to wait a nearly endless day until she could see them again. She had to force herself to focus on the bookkeeping and not just pull on her coat and rush out the door. Finally she gave up on the books and grabbed the new issue of The Daily Telegraph’s travel edition, which had arrived yesterday. Her imagination ran wild as she followed the young narrator on his adventure, but it was not focused on the wilderness or the animals. Instead it ran wild with images of naked Warren and Archer striding across the plains of the savannah, the sunlight glinting off their gleaming bodies. She would wait in the shade of an acacia tree, a soft blanket beneath her naked skin. A breeze caressed the tight tips of her breasts and her moist center. She arched her back at the sensations racing through her. Her men stood at her feet, their maleness overwhelming and inciting at the same time. “Touch yourself.” Archer’s order hit her like lightning. His harsh voice rasped across her senses.
