Marcus licked his lips.
Foreplay be damned.
He had to have her.
Now.
* * *
When the bathroom door swung open, Simone sucked in her stomach and prayed that the red mood lights concealed the extra weight she’d put on over the summer holidays. One too many plates of barbecue, and now she couldn’t zip her favorite pair of skinny jeans! Simone was glad she’d married a man who loved her for who she was, not for her looks. Marcus didn’t care how much she weighed or what size she was, but her meddling mother-in-law sure did. Gladys took every opportunity to get on her case, and whenever Simone saw her she wished she could take a chainsaw to the family tree.
“I hope this isn’t a dream...”
At the sound of her husband’s voice, Simone blinked. A soft moan escaped her lips. Transfixed by his sheer, masculine beauty, she watched as he strode confidently toward her. Simone couldn’t take her eyes off him, couldn’t stop staring at his hard, muscular body. She desired him, craved every square inch of him. His kiss, his touch, the long, thick erection standing between his legs.
He’s one fine-ass man, she thought, twirling a lock of hair around her index finger. He was built like the Scorpion King—muscled, toned, a physique rippling with tone and definition—and he had more charisma than the leader of the free world. He had a tribal band tattoo around his right forearm, the twenty-third Psalm written in fine script on his left biceps and the word perseverance across his chest. His tattoos gave him a sexy edge, like a bad boy turned good. Marcus carried himself with class, like someone who’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but he wasn’t related to the Rockefellers or a card-carrying member of a Yale fraternity. He grew up in a violent, low-income neighborhood, but by sheer strength of mind he’d pulled himself out of the trenches of poverty and achieved all of his personal and professional goals.
“What took you so long to get out of the shower?” Simone spoke in a sultry tone, one intended to arouse, entice. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“I see. And. I. Like.”
She held up a miniature bottle of massage oil. “You look like you could use a good rubdown, so come over here and let me work my magic on you.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice!”
Simone giggled, felt herself start to relax, to unwind. Marcus smelled good, looked even better and was wearing a sly grin. His eyes were ablaze with lust, so dark and penetrating, she shivered with excitement. The soft music created a romantic feel, a real chill vibe.
“You better lock the bedroom door.”
“Good idea,” he said, nodding. “We don’t want Jayden wandering in like the last time.”
“I know,” Simone agreed. “I almost died when I heard him say my name.”
They laughed together.
Simone drew air in and out of her lungs, cleared her mind of all worries and stress. She was going to rock her husband’s world, and after, when they were wrapped up in each other’s arms, she’d persuade him to trim his workload.
“Baby, I’m...” Marcus stopped speaking. He stood at the foot of the bed, quietly watching her for a long moment. “I’m sorry about tonight. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Simone heard the sincerity in his tone, saw the truth in his eyes. “I’m sorry, too.”
“Do you forgive me?”
She nodded, reached out and touched his hand.
Marcus covered her lips with his mouth, kissed her with such raw intensity and passion, she groaned his name. Electricity passed between them, then rushed through her like a thunderbolt. Marcus cradled her face in his hands, used his thumbs to stroke her earlobes, cheeks and neck. A tingle shot down her spine. Every part of her body—from her ears to her toes—came alive with her husband’s touch. Simone was on fire, hot, so delirious with need and pleasure she was shaking. One kiss—one long, scrumptious kiss—was all it took to get her wet, and when Marcus cupped her breasts, she tossed her head back and moaned from deep within.
Rap music blared from behind them, startling them both.
Simone broke off the kiss, gestured to the nightstand. “Honey, turn off your cell.”
“Just ignore it.”
“If you don’t answer the person will just keep calling.”
“It’s probably Nate. The Bears beat the Patriots, and he’s pretty stoked about the win.”
Simone rolled her eyes to the vaulted ceiling. She didn’t know anything about football, and even less about its overpaid stars. But now that her best friend, Angela Kelly, had returned to Chicago, she had someone to hang out with while Marcus was cheering on the home team. Now she didn’t have to sit around waiting for him to get home.
Marcus grabbed his cell phone. He wanted to spend the rest of the night making love to Simone, but when he read the text message from his friend and business partner, Nate Washington, he knew his plans would have to wait.
“What’s wrong?” Simone snuggled against his shoulder. He was frowning, and his chin hung so low it was sitting on his chest. “Is there a problem at one of the gyms?”
“No, I have to write an article for Bodybuilder’s Magazine, and it’s due tomorrow. It’s a major promotional opportunity, the biggest I’ve had since I opened Samson’s,” he said. “Thank God Nate reminded me or I would have blown the assignment.”
“Yeah, thank God,” Simone mumbled under her breath. She felt numb, paralyzed from the neck down, unable to move. Good thing, because she probably would have snatched Marcus’s cell phone out of his hand and chucked it out the window.
“I better get started on it.”
“Now? But we were about to make love.”
“I know, but the article’s due first thing tomorrow morning.” Marcus pulled on a gray T-shirt and black sweatpants. “This is my first piece for the magazine, and if the readers like it, I could end up with my own monthly column. Cool, huh?”
All Simone could do was nod. What else could she do? Demand he come to bed and make love to her? Oh, yeah, that’s real romantic!
“If it’s not too much trouble could you proof it for me in the morning?”
Simone forced a smile onto her lips. “Yeah, sure. No problem.”
“Thanks, baby. You’re a lifesaver. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“How long will it take you to write the article?”
He shrugged. “Not long. I know what I want to write, it’s just a matter of getting my thoughts down on paper.”
But when he pecked her cheek and told her to get some rest, Simone knew her husband had no intention of returning anytime soon. Rolling onto her side, so he wouldn’t see the pained expression on her face, she pulled the blanket up to her chin and sighed inwardly.
“Sleep well,” he said, switching off the bedside lamp. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Simone watched him leave, watched helplessly as he took her confidence and self-esteem with him. The room was dark, the night calm, and the scent of her husband’s aftershave swirled in the air. Simone willed herself to relax, to go to bed, but her restless mind chased sleep away.
Lying there, she studied the numbers on the digital clock, watched as the seconds slipped into minutes. Simone felt alone, unloved, like a child whose parents forgot to pick her up from school. Only she wasn’t a kid. She was a twenty-nine-year-old woman whose husband would rather work than