Just looking at Ross made Sarah's heart skip a beat, her breath catch in her throat.
"God…" she whispered under her breath, before quickly shaking her head, ashamed of her own thoughts.
Forcing herself to move, Sarah rose quietly from the sofa.
Her earlier outfit lay discarded on the floor, completely ruined—stained with sweat, wrinkled, and splattered with his seed.
She couldn't wear that again, not if she wanted to hold on to even a shred of dignity.
Thank heavens she always kept a spare set of clothes in her office for emergencies.
She slipped into the private storage cabinet, pulling out a fresh blouse and skirt.
The act of dressing steadied her somewhat, though her hands trembled as she buttoned up her shirt.
She could still feel Ross's lips on her breasts, still see his hand gripping her hips, still hear his low, commanding voice echoing in her ears.
Every detail refused to leave her.
Once fully dressed, she took a moment before the mirror on the wall.
