Eight
She was tidying up his office the next morning when Marcos halted at the doorway. The sight of Virginia fiddling with the coffeemaker froze him, then heated up his blood.
As she poured a cup—black, as he liked it—the plain buttoned-up shirt she wore stretched across her breasts in a way that made watching feel like purgatory.
“Good morning.”
She glanced up with a soft gasp. “Marcos—Mr. Allende.” And there went her
breasts again, swelling, pert and lovely as she
——Locked Chapter——
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He Has Changed Eight
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