Again. There she was, sitting on the couch, feet tucked up under her, with a lovely tilt of her right hip, so round and luscious. He dwelled on the way she felt last night as he held her there. Her soft skin. The mounds of her. He would dwell within her forever. But the same fire in her erupting in bed scared the shit out of him when it turned against him. Talk about opening yourself to someone—almost completely—only to have it snapped shut by fear. Sanj finally hung up the phone. Jackson was grateful—Sanj’s voice was beginning to annoy him because he couldn’t understand a word of what he said. “I have my people on it,” Sanj said. “When they find out something, they’ll get back with me immediately. In the meantime, you two should check on your flights.” “I have an idea,” Maeve said, sitting up straighter. Damn. Her breasts in the green shirt. Focus on what she’s saying, idiot. “Is this crazy?” she said, directing it more at Sanj. Oh well. He couldn’t blame her.
