“I’m just telling Candy we got married,” I chirp.
“And I want to take you back to the hotel and fuck you.”
Oh. Yes.
“Ummmmmm,” Candy says. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
I giggle. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Go get ’em, tiger.”
I hang up the phone with a smile, and turn to Marcus. My husband. Oh man, this shit is good. No, it’s awesome. Amazing. Perfect. I step up to him and curl my fingers around his suit jacket and pull him close, pressing my lips to his neck. He smells like smoke, and mint, and cologne. Fuck. Me.
“Keep kissin’ my neck,” he rasps, “and I’ll find an alley and make you scream my name for the world to hear.”
“Maybe that’s what I want,” I purr, nipping his earlobe.
“Jesus.” He groans when I reach down and wrap my fingers around his cock.
“Let’s make this official, shall we Mr. Tandem?”
“Right on it, Mrs. Tandem.”
Happiest night of my life. Without a doubt.
~*~*~*~
MARCUS
It’s done.
I married her.
While she thought I was gambling, I called Walter and my lawyer and informed them of the happy news. To say Walter lost his shit, would be an understatement. I had to call security on my house to make sure he doesn’t try and barge in when I get home to try and interfere with Katia. It’s finally official. She’s mine.
Everything I’ve worked for is in my hands as of Monday morning, when I’ll sign the papers to transfer the business into my name.
It’s the happiest I’ve been in the past ten years. Even being around Katia is light and fun. Especially when I lie her down on the bed that night and fuck her so deep and hard she screams my name in minutes, then again not long after. Fuck, the way she is when I’m inside her is hot. It certainly won’t be hard having her in my bed frequently.
She is the right choice; I know that.
And even though she doesn’t know what she means to me, or what she doesn’t mean to me, I know that I’m the right choice for her.
At least, that’s what she thinks.
CHAPTER 21
NOW
Marcus
I lay her body down on the bed. She’s out of it—fuck, I’m ready to get out of it after the way I just fucked her in that car. She never ceases to amaze me; she’s so damned beautiful. The way she is when I’m inside her is fuckin’ sweet. The way she lost control with me . . . fuck. Katia Tandem is a sweet, sweet fuckin’ woman.
I roll her to her side and she doesn’t groan. Not even a little bit. Something strange flickers in my chest. It’s a feeling I’ve never had before. I reach down and tap her cheeks. No movement. My heartbeat kicks up and I roll her to her back, pressing my hand to her mouth. Her breathing is shallow. Fuck. Has she had a reaction to the drugs?
“Katia?” I call, lifting her shoulders and shaking her slightly. “Wake up.”
Her head drops back and her mouth hangs open.
That feeling in my chest intensifies to the point where I can feel my own heart pounding in my head. I slap her cheeks again. Nothing. Zip. Fuck. I lift her into my arms and carry her into the bathroom. She doesn’t move in my embrace, and the feeling in my chest grows to the point where my breathing becomes ragged. What the fuck is happening here?
To her . . . and me?
“Katia, wake up.”
I drop to my knees and lay her on the floor, then I turn her to her side. She makes a strange sound deep in her throat, almost like gagging. I tilt her head back and open her mouth. She begins to gasp. Her skin is going a strange shade of blue. Fuck.
“Katia,” I call.
Her body jerks and she seems to be gasping for air? Is something stuck in her throat? Her skin is turning a deeper shade of blue and I don’t have time to process. Something is blocking her airway. I flip her to her stomach and hold her body against mine, hand around her chest. Then I put my fingers in her mouth and slide them into her throat. She gags, and gags, and gags. Then she is vomiting all over herself and the floor.
She heaves and heaves. Then she flops in my arms. My heart is pounding and my hands are shaking as I see the color slowly come back into her face. She groans softly, fingers raising up to clutch mine. “Marcus?” she calls.
“Here,” I rasp.
My head is spinning, my mind going far and beyond as I process what the fuck just happened.
It’s not that Katia choked on her own vomit, or food, or whatever the fuck was in her throat.
It’s not that she threw up all over herself, the floor, and me.
No.
It’s more.
It’s the fact that for the first time in my life, I felt fear for another human being.
Fear.
For her.
Fuck.
~*~*~*~
KATIA
My head pounds as I run my fingers through my hair in the shower that morning. God, I feel like death. I don’t remember a lot. I get right to the point where Marcus fucked me deep and good in the car—and boy, was that an erotic experience—and then everything after that is blank. I woke up alone in my bed, having no clue how I got there.
I’m also wearing Marcus’s shirt.
How did that shit happen?
I’ve washed my hair twice, because when I opened my eyes I swear I could smell vomit. I didn’t see any on me, or the floor, or my bed, so I must have been imagining it.
I finish up in the shower and get out, throwing on a pair of cotton shorts and a tank. Then I make my way, very slowly, out to the kitchen. Empty. Pursing my lips, I check the house.