She felt John approaching before she saw him, the air crackling with the violent energy of an impending summer storm. He rounded the corner from the hallway leading to the bedroom. She lost her breath. 

He was still in his coat, black sweats clung to the lowest point of his hips. He had an impatient look in his eyes, a sign of battle only strengthening the impression of rage and ferocity. Her choice of music clashed with the emotion seething from him. Her beautiful, savagely elegant warrior.

The love of her life. 

So tormented that the sight of him brought hot, stinging tears to her eyes. He jerked to a halt when he saw her, his hands clenching and releasing at his sides, his eyes wild and nostrils flaring. 

Her phone slid out of her hand and hit the floor. “John.” 

He sucked in a breath at the sound of her voice. 

It changed him. 

She watched the shift come over him, like a door slamming shut. One moment, he was bristling with emotion. The next, he was cool as ice, his surface as smooth as glass. 

 

“Where were you?” She asked, her voice dangerously low. 

“I came over from a crime scene. Another crime scene.” 

“Oh, God, yes, I received your text message…poor Alice…John, I’m sorry, please I’m not a fit company now.” 

“I can deal with it.” He was too still, as if he were afraid to move. 

“You should go...I need some time alone to process…to die like that, getting choked by a pastry…” Her pulse leaped. Awareness sizzled across her senses. She felt the heat from his body. 

His need. 

The demand. 

“Where were you tonight, Marlena?” he strained.

She was suddenly melting in her clothes. “Excuse me-” She took a deep breath for courage. “I don’t like what you are referring to, John” 

His head went back. “I asked you a simple question.” 

“I was here, where else would I be, with all these killings?” she snapped, feeling the burn of his gaze as it tracked her. 

“Of course. So you could probably show me your hand gloves.” 

“You need to go, John.” She shook her head. His eyes squeezed as tightly closed as her fists. “I never told you how she died.”

“Don’t.” 

He leaned on top of her, closing the distance between them.

“Don’t what?” 

“Don’t ask me that.” 

“Why not?” Those fiercely blue eyes snapped open, pinning her so thoroughly that she paused midstep. 

“I’m hanging on by a thread, John.” 

“You don’t have to hang on,” He told her, holding his hands out to her. “Let go. I’ll catch you.” “No.” She shook her head, lowering his reached hand by hers. “You want to reach out to me. I can understand that...but-” 

His jaw worked. “I want to fuck you. Hard.” 

 

She felt the heat sweep up to her cheeks. It was a testament to how much he wanted her that he could still find her desirable despite her hobble doings, despite his shock.

His fingers went to the lapels of his coat. He’d partially buttoned up on the car ride over. She lunged and caught his wrists, squeezing them.

“Don’t.”

 

“You don’t think I can handle you? After all we’ve done together? All we’ve talked about and plan on doing?” 

God. 

His entire body was straining, tense, every muscle thick and hard. And his eyes, so bright against his skin, so agonized. 

Hers dark and dangerous. He gripped her elbow and started walking. 

“What—?” She stumbled. 

He dragged her toward the elevator. “We have to go, I’m taking you in.” 

“No!” She struggled, kicking off her heels and digging her feet in. 

“Damn it.” He rounded on her and yanked her up, facing her nose to nose. “I can’t do this, and this—us—will all go to hell!” 

“John! For god's sake, talk to me! Please! Would you just talk to me first!” 

“I want to punish you,” he snarled, gripping her face in both hands. “You did this! You brought this on. Killing people … killing Alice. Look what you’ve done!” She smelled the liquor on him then, the rich vapor of some expensive scotch. She’d never seen him truly drunk—he valued his control too much to completely dull his senses—but he was drunk now. The first hint of wariness rippled through her. 

 

“Yes,” She said shakily, “this is my fault. I love you. Will you punish me for that?” 

“God.” He closed his eyes. His hot, damp forehead touched hers, nuzzling hard. His sweat coated her skin, imprinting her with the lushly masculine scent that was his alone. She felt him soften, relaxing infinitesimally. She turned her head and pressed her lips to his feverish cheek. 

He stiffened. 

“No.” John pulled her toward the elevator, yanking her into the foyer and kicking the scattered contents of her purse out of the way. 

“Stop it!” She yelled, trying to tug her arm free. But he wouldn’t listen. His finger stabbed at the call button. The doors opened instantly, the elevator always waiting to take him down. He threw her in and she stumbled into the rear wall. 

 

Desperate, She yanked at the belt of her robe, her urgency giving her strength. She tore at the buttons, sending them rolling in every direction. The doors were closing when she spun to face him, holding the lapels of her robe wide open so he could see what she was wearing beneath. His arm shot out, blocking the door from closing. 

He shoved it open. 

The nightgown she’d worn was bloodred—their color—and had scarcely any material to it at all. Sheer mesh exposed her breasts and center, while bandagelike cutouts caged her waist. “Bitch,” he hissed, stalking into the confined space, shrinking it too small. “So it’s true, you killed all of our friends! Why? Oh, God, what happened to you?” 

“I’m your bitch,” She shot back, feeling the tears well and fall. It was painful to have him so angry with her, even though she understood. He needed an outlet and she’d positioned herself as the target. He’d warned her … tried to protect her … “I can take you, John Black. I can take whatever you’ve got.” 

 

He tackled her back into the wall so hard the impact knocked the breath from her. His mouth covered hers, his tongue plunging deep. His hands squeezed her breasts roughly, his knee pressing hard between her legs. She arched into him, fighting to shrug off her robe. She was too hot, sweat sliding down her back and belly. John wrenched the trench off, tossing it aside, his mouth sealed to hers. A moan of gratitude escaped her, her arms wrapping around his neck, her heart swelling with the relief of holding him. Her fingers pushed into his hair, her grip tightening to give her leverage to crawl up to him. 

 

John tore his mouth away, then her hands. “Don’t touch me.” 

“Fuck you,” She snapped, too hurt to hold the words back. Just to spite him, She broke free of his grip and let her hands roam over his rock-hard shoulders and biceps. He pushed her back, holding her to the wall with a single hand against the middle of her chest. No matter how she shoved or scratched at his steely arm, she couldn’t budge him. She could only watch as he yanked the drawstring free of his sweats. 

 

Desire and apprehension twisted together inside her. “John … ?” His gaze met hers, so dark and haunted. “Can you keep your hands off me?” 

“No. I don’t want to.” With a nod, he released her, only to spin her around to face the rear of the elevator. Caged by his body, she had little room to maneuver.

“Don’t fight me,” he ordered, his lips to her ear. Then he tied her wrists to the handrail. 

 

She froze, startled that he was actually arresting her. So surprised and disbelieving that she barely struggled. It was only after she watched him knot the thin cord that she realized he was serious. Gripping her hips, he nuzzled her hair aside and sank his teeth into her shoulder. 

“I say when.” 

She gasped, tugging at her hands. “What are you doing?” 

He didn’t answer her. 

He just left. 

Twisting around as much as she was able, she caught him walking into the living room just as the doors slid shut. 

“Oh my God,” She breathed. “You wouldn’t.” She couldn’t believe he’d send her away like this … tied up in the elevator in only lingerie. He was presently screwed up in the head, yes, but she couldn’t believe her loving husband would expose her that way, to whoever might be in the lobby, just to get rid of her. 

 

“John! Goddamn it. Don’t you dare leave me in here like this! Do you hear me?! Get your ass back in here!” She wrenched at the cord binding her wrists, but it was knotted tight. Seconds passed, then minutes. The elevator didn’t move and after screaming herself hoarse, she realized it wouldn’t. It waited for the push of a button, standing by for John’s command. Just like she was. She was going to kick his fucking ass when she got loose. 

She’d never been so pissed. “

John!” Bending over, She walked backward, then lifted and stretched one leg to reach the button that opened the doors. She pushed it with her big toe. As they slid open, she sucked in a deep breath to scream … … then promptly lost it in a startling rush. 

 

John strode through the living room toward the foyer … completely naked. And drenched from head to toe. His cock was so hard it curved up to his navel. His head was tipped back as he guzzled bottled water, his stride loose and easy, yet entirely predatory. 

 

She straightened as he drew closer, panting from both the riot of her emotions and the depth of her hunger. Asshole or not, she wanted him with a ferocity she couldn’t fight. He was complicated and sexy, damaged and perfect. 

“Here.” He brought a crystal tumbler to her lips that she hadn’t noticed because she’d been too busy ogling his magnificent body. The glass was nearly full, the reddish-gold liquid sloshing against her lips as he tipped it. Her mouth opened by instinct and he poured the liquor in, the potent proof burning her tongue and throat. She coughed and he waited, his gaze heavy-lidded. He smelled clean and cool, refreshed from a shower. 

“Finish it.” 

“You know I don’t drink scotch!” She protested. 

 

He simply poured another large swallow past her parted lips. She kicked at him, cursing when she hurt her foot—and didn’t do any damage to him at all. 

“Stop it!” He dropped the empty water bottle and cupped her face in his hand. His thumb brushed away the drops of liquor on her chin. “You need to let me settle, and you need to mellow out. We go at it like this, we’ll tear each other apart.” 

 

A stupid tear slipped out of the corner of her eye. John groaned and bent toward her, his tongue licking the trail of the droplet off her cheek. “I’m shattered and you’re beating at me with your fists. I can’t take it, Doc.” 

“I can’t take you shutting me out,” She whispered, tugging at the damned cord. The liquor was spreading fire through her veins. She could feel the tendrils of intoxication curling around her senses already. He put his hand over hers, stilling her restless movements. “Stop that. You’ll hurt yourself.” 

“Cut me loose.” 

“You touch me, and I can’t keep it together. I’m hanging by a thread,” he said again, sounding desperate. 

“I can’t hurt you. Not you.” 

“What about someone else?” Her voice became shrill. “What about someone else?” 

 

She couldn’t keep it together, either. John was the rock in their relationship, the anchor. She thought she could be the same for him. She wanted to shelter him, be his haven. But John didn’t need shelter from the storm; he was the storm. And she wasn’t strong enough to bear up under the weight of his crashing mood. 

“John.” 

He kissed her. 

Hard. 

“You need me in control. I need to be in control when I’m with you.” She felt the panic building. 

He knew. 

“You are different John —”

 “Fuck!” John spun away, slamming his fist into the control panel. The doors opened to the sound of Eminem singing love the way you lie and he threw the tumbler, shattering it against the hallway wall. “Yes, I was different! You made me different.” 

“And you hate me for that.” She started crying, her body sagging into the elevator wall.

“No!” He wrapped himself around her, his water-chilled body curving over her back. He rubbed his face against her, his embrace so tight she could barely breathe. “Never! I love you. You’re my wife. My goddamn life. You’re everything.” 

“I just want to be with you,” She cried. “I want to be here for you, but you won’t let me!” 

“God. Doc, you killed all these people! Our friends!” His hands began to move, to pet and glide. “I have to turn you in…I have to…”

To stroke. 

To soothe. 

“I can’t stop you. I need you too much.” She gripped the handrail with both hands, her cheek pressed to the cool mirror. The liquor began to work its magic. A heated languor slid through her, drowning her anger and what fight she had left until they drifted away, leaving her sad and afraid and so desperately, terrifyingly in love. 

 

His hand pushed between her legs, rubbing, searching. With a forceful tug, he opened the snaps that held the front and back of the nightgown together. She moaned at the sudden release of pressure. Her center was wet and swollen from the skilled movements of his hands and the image in her mind of the way he’d looked walking toward her. Her head fell back against his shoulder and she saw his reflection. 

His eyes were closed, his lips parted. The vulnerability etched on his gorgeous face undid her. 

He was hurting so badly. 

She couldn’t bear it. “Tell her what I can do,” She whispered. “Tell me how to help.” 

“Shh.” His tongue rimmed the shell of her ear. “Let me settle.” The featherlight stroke of his thumb over the mesh covering her nipple was driving her mad. The slide of his fingers between the slick folds of her slit had her quivering. He knew where to touch her, how much pressure. She cried out when he pushed two fingers inside her, her feet flexing, lifting her onto her toes. Her knees weakened, her legs quivering with the strain. 

 

The air in the elevator felt thick and steamy, heavy with the need that pumped off him in waves. “Ah, Christ.” He groaned when her center tightened around him, his hips rolling against her to grind his erection into her buttocks. “I’m going to bruise this sweet pussy, Doc. I can’t stop it.” His arm banded around her waist and lifted her, pulling her back so that her arms were straight and she was bent over. He kneed her legs apart, his fingers sliding wetly from her slit. She felt his hand graze her hip, and then he was dragging the wide crest of his cock through the seam of her buttocks and notching it between the lips of her sex. 

 

She held her breath, squirming against that plush pressure. She’d wanted him all day, craving the feel of his big cock inside her, needing him to make her come. 

“Wait,” he groaned, reaching for both her waist and her shoulder, his fingers flexing impatiently. “Let me—” Her sex clenched, tightening around the thick head. John cursed and thrust, one hard stroke that shoved him deep. “I’m sorry….I’m so sorry…” She cried out in pleasured pain, arching away from the rigid fullness, feeling the burn of stretching inner muscles and tender tissues. 

 

“Yes,” he hissed, yanking her back into him until the lips of her center hugged the thick root of his cock. His hips circled, his balls lying heavily against her sensitive clit. 

 

“Fucking tight …” 

She moaned and tried to hold on to the handrail; her body rocked as he began to fuck. The sensation was devastating, being filled so completely, then emptied abruptly. Her knees gave out, her core spasming in delight as he reamed her hard and thoroughly. All the emotion he’d pent up inside him was hammered into her, the relentless drives of his cock massaging every sensitive nerve. Marlena was coming before she knew the orgasm was on her, gasping his name as pleasure racked her body in violent trembles. Her head dropped between her arms, her muscles weak and useless. John held her up with his hands, with his erection. 

Using her body.

Taking it. 

Maybe for the last time.

 

Grunting primitively every time he hit the end of her. “So deep,” he growled. “So good.” In the periphery, She caught movement, her dazed eyes focusing on their reflection. With a low, pained cry she started coming again, if she’d ever stopped. John was the most searingly erotic thing she’d ever seen—his biceps thick and hard as he supported her weight, his thighs straining with exertion, his ass flexing as he pistoned, his abs rippling with power as he rolled his hips with every stroke. He’d been built to fuck, but he had mastered the skill, using every inch of his amazing body to enslave a woman to pleasure. 

 

She was innate to him, instinctive. Even drunk and near-feral with anguish, his rhythm was tight and precise, his focus absolute. Every thrust took him deep inside her, hitting the sweetest spots, again and again, driving the ecstasy into her until she couldn’t resist the onslaught. Another climax churned through her like a tidal wave. “That’s it,” he groaned. “Oh fuck. Doc … You’re making me come.” She felt his cock thickening, lengthening. Tingles raced across her skin; her lungs heaved for air. 

 

John threw back his head and roared like an animal, spurting hotly. Gripping her hips, he pumped her onto his cock, coming hard and forever, filling her until semen slicked her center and inner thighs. He slowed the thrust of his hips, gasping, bending over to press his cheek to her shoulder. 

 

She started sinking to her knees. “John …” He pulled her up. “I’m not done,” he said roughly, still thick and stiff inside her. 

Then he started again. 

 

*******

 

She woke to the feel of his hair brushing over her shoulder and the press of warm, firm lips. Exhausted, She tried to roll away, but an arm around her waist pulled her back. “Doc,” he rasped. His hand cupped her breast, clever fingers rolling her nipple. It was dark and they were in bed, although she barely remembered him carrying her there. He’d undressed her, washed her with a damp cloth, and rained kisses over her face and wrists. It had turned her on to feel his tender caresses over her body, the mix of pleasure and pain. He’d noticed. With eyes hot with lust, he’d spread her legs and eat her with an insistent demand that robbed her of the ability to think or move. He’d licked and sucked her endlessly, until she lost count of how many times he made her come around his wicked tongue. 

 

“John …” Turning her head, Marlena looked at him over her shoulder. He was propped on one arm, his eyes glittering in the faint light of the moon. “Will you stay with me tonight? Could you take me in, in the morning?” Maybe it was reckless to hope he’d stayed with her while she slept, but sharing a bed with him was something she loved.

 And craved. 

He nodded. “I couldn’t leave you.” 

“I’m glad.” He rolled her over and into him, taking her mouth, kissing her softly. The coaxing licks of his tongue stirred her again, made her moan. “I can’t stop touching you, I don’t know if this is the last time” he breathed, gripping her nape to hold her still as he deepened the kiss, his teeth tugging gently on her lower lip. “When I touch you, I don’t think about anything else.” Tenderness blended with love. 

“Can I touch you, too?” 

Closing his eyes, he begged. “Please.” 

 

She surged into him, her hands sliding into his hair to hold him as he held her. She brushed her tongue against his, their mouths hot and wet. Their legs tangled, her body arching to press against the hardness of his. He hummed softly and slowed her down, rolling to pin her to the bed. Pulling back, he broke the seal of their mouths, nibbling, sucking. Tracing the curves of her lips with the tip of his tongue.

 

She whimpered in protest, wanting deeper, harder. Instead, he licked leisurely, stroking the roof of her mouth, the lining of her cheeks. She tightened her legs, dragging him closer. He rocked his hips, pressing his erection into her thigh. John kissed her until her lips were hot and puffy and the sun was rising in the sky. 

He kissed her until he came in a hot rush against her skin. 

Not once but twice.

The feel of him coming, the sound of his low pained moans of pleasure, knowing she could bring him to orgasm with just her kiss … She slicked his thigh with her need and ground against him until she came. As the new day began, he closed the distance he’d put between them in the elevator. There was nothing beyond the edges of their bed. Only them and a love that stripped them bare even if it was their last time.