“Can I help you, Katia?” he murmurs, not turning around.

“Aren’t I allowed to look at you?” I say, leaning against the doorframe.

“Depends,” he says, turning with no shame. Showing me the perfect front. Chiseled chest, washboard abs, a sexy V and that cock. I press my legs together.

“On what?” I breathe.

“If you’re there to just look, then leave.”

I open my mouth, but he cuts me off. “If you’re there not to just look, then come in here and make good use of that pretty mouth.”

Oh, boy.

I lift my shirt over my head as I rush towards him. The only time Marcus and I seem to be close is when we’re together like this. His hands, his mouth, his body—it makes me feel what we did was right. Maybe even real. I fell in love with Marcus after three months, but there are times when I wonder if he loves me, or if he’s just doing the best he can because he doesn’t know how to love.

I mean, he married me, right?

That has to count for something.

I drop my panties and step into the shower. Marcus reaches out and hooks an arm around my waist, hauling me against him. Our mouths collide and he presses my back against the shower wall. He lifts my hip over his and his hand roughly cups my breast. Seems like we’re skipping foreplay. I’m totally okay with that. I moan into Marcus’s mouth when he presses his cock to my entrance.

Marcus is either one or the other. He takes it slow, or he fucks quick and hard. Tonight it’s quick and hard.

Oh, yes.

He slides his cock into me, and I mean slides. Slow. Sexy. Perfect. I whimper his name and he tilts my hips, hand curled around my ass, the other in my hair, and he fucks me deep. My lips find his neck and I suck the water off the skin there. It runs over his body like a fountain, making him look that much better. His fingers bite into my ass as he thrusts and I want it, all of it, and more.

“Marcus,” I breathe.

“Fuck,” he growls.

This is the only word he says during sex. Not baby, or honey, or sweetheart. Just fuck.

“Oh God.”

My body jerks and I come, hard and fast. I scream out his name and he begins slamming harder. My cheeks flush with shame over how quickly I came, but I don’t get to think too much about it because Marcus groans, deep in his throat, and he comes. His body trembles when he comes, and it’s fucking beautiful.

When he’s done, he slides me down his body and we step apart. His eyes are dark, dangerous and lusty. Yum. “Have I been starving you?” he murmurs.

I swallow, shame rising in my body. “Ah, no.”

He studies me, his lips quirk, and then he finishes up and gets out. I step back under the water, watching him dry his gorgeous body. My heart pounds as I think about the fact that he never stays in the shower with me. He never washes me. He never runs his fingers over my skin. Nothing.

Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s just Marcus.

Or maybe it’s more.

CHAPTER 6

THEN

Marcus

She tastes like fucking honey. Sweet, sensual honey.

I spent the night inside her, fucking her over and over. Listening to her little pants of pleasure as she arched up, her breasts pressing into my chest. Out of all the women I could have picked, Katia is so far from my type. She’s tiny, she’s fiery and she’s opinionated. In the sack, she’s a fucking firecracker. She fucks as good as she gets fucked.

She’s the right choice.

I press a cigar to my lips and stare down at her sleeping form. Her hair is fanned out over the pillow, her lips parted and swollen from being curled around my cock just before she went to sleep. Her hands are rested over her chest, and her dark lashes are fanned out over her cheek. As I stare at her, I know that she’ll fit. She’ll make the perfect wife, and she’ll fit my plan exactly how she needs to.

My cell vibrates on the table beside the bed, and I reach over, answering it as I stand and walk out of the room. “Yeah?” I mutter, inhaling as I near the balcony.

“Ah, Marcus.”

Fuckin’ Walter.

“Ringing at this time, Walter. Must be urgent.”

He chuckles. “I hear you found out about your father’s will?”

“And?”

“How wonderful you’ve accepted that you’ve lost the family business so easily.”

I snort. “I haven’t lost anything.”

He’s silent, and then he mutters, “You haven’t got a wife, Marcus. How, I wonder, are you going to get past that?”

“Simple; find a wife.”

He chokes on something, coughs, and then growls, “Marcus Tandem, player, finding a wife?”

“There’s a girl,” I lie.

“Do you think I’m so stupid?”

“I’m not entirely sure you’re smart, Walter. If you were, you wouldn’t have honestly believed that simple request would hold me back from getting what I want.”

“Do you really believe any girl will just fall for your lies?”

“I can make it very believable, Walter.”

“A simple phone call from me, and she’ll know exactly what you’re doing. This won’t work out for you, Marcus. I’ll make sure of it.”

Fucker. He’s forcing my hand, forcing me to make this so fucking real she won’t be able to question it, at least until after we’re married. If Katia doesn’t believe I care, then she’ll never say I do.

And if she never says I do, I lose every-fucking-thing.