Porter woke wrapped around a warm woman. The only thing that told him it wasn’t a dream was the faint scent of jasmine in her hair and the rather insistent erection pressed up against her bare backside. For a moment, he instinctively tightened his hold, gently rocking his hips to test his chances of starting his day making love to her again. But Maggie didn’t arch back against him. She didn’t stir at all. And no wonder. It was only seven. They’d barely been asleep for two hours.
He’d spent the entire night making every inch of her thoroughly his, fulfilling as many of her fantasies and his own as he could manage. Between the two them, they had a lot. She’d exceeded all of his, and he hoped like hell that he’d been able to wipe out whatever memories she’d been carting around about her prev
