Seventy-two hours of tantalizing freedom.
But she had no intention of letting him escape that easily.
She was already damp just from the thought of it.
In the kitchen, she began to prepare dinner with theatrical precision. Each movement was calculated so that when he finally emerged from his sanctuary, he would find her bent over the counter, her back's curve exposed, the dress riding dangerously high on her thighs with each slight movement.
The sound of the office door opening sent her heart racing.
"Need any help?"
His voice was lower than usual. Marina didn't immediately turn around, finishing slicing the tomato with slow fingers before replying.
"You can uncork the wine," she finally said, turning around with the glass extended.
Ricardo halted in the middle of the kitchen, his
