Chapter ELEVEN

A sound jarred Maggie from her dreams. Damn. She was having the best one ever. It was deliciously erotic and involved Alex, of course. The man had been starring in her fantasies since her sister had doused him with ink and paint one fateful night only weeks ago. Her life had not been the same since. She opened one eye and looked down.

Oh shit. That wasn’t a dream after all. The large, masculine arm snug around her waist belonged to someone, after all. She swallowed.

Moving carefully so as not to awaken the man, she slipped from the bed, landing with a soft thud on the throw rug she’d bought after the floors had been replaced. Maggie hated cold feet.

Dear lord, what the hell was she thinking about her feet for? She wanted to squeal, almost did, but didn’t want to embarrass herself. So, she grabbed her robe, and slipped into the bathroom, where she admittedly did a little happy dance.