The moment the front door clicked shut behind my husband, David, I felt it—a tingling rush of freedom, like a caged bird suddenly tasting the open sky. Two whole days without his predictable sighs or his "honey, where’s my tie?" nonsense. I stretched out on the plush living room couch, my silk robe slipping just enough to reveal the curve of my thigh, and smirked to myself. This wasn’t going to be a weekend of knitting or binge-watching reruns. Oh no. I had an itch, and it was begging—*screaming*—to be scratched.
I grabbed my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I landed on a name that always made my pulse quicken: Marcus. God, that man. Built like a damn Greek statue, with a voice that could melt steel and a smirk that promised trouble. We went way back—too far for David to ever know about—and every time I heard his low, gravelly tone, I remembered why some sins are worth committing.
I hit call, propping my feet up on the coffee table, letting my robe fall open just a little more, as if he could see me through the phone. He picked up on the second ring.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the queen herself,” Marcus drawled, his voice dripping with that cocky charm I craved. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Ilona? Or are you just bored out of your pretty little mind?”
I laughed, low and sultry, twirling a strand of my dark hair around my finger. “Oh, Marcus, you have no idea. David’s off on some yawn-inducing work trip, and I’m stuck here in this big, empty house with no real man to keep me entertained. It’s tragic, really.”
“Tragic, huh?” He chuckled, the sound vibrating through the line. “Sounds like you’re fishing for trouble, darlin’. Careful—I bite.”
“Promises, promises,” I shot back, my voice teasing but sharp. “All talk and no action, that’s you. I bet you’re sitting there in some sad little bachelor pad, pretending you’ve got game, while I’m wasting away over here.”
“Wasting away?” His tone turned darker, more daring. “Baby, if you’re wasting away, it’s ‘cause you’re married to a man who wouldn’t know how to handle you if his life depended on it. Why don’t you stop whining and do something about it?”
My breath hitched, but I kept my cool, my lips curling into a wicked grin. “Oh, I’m doing something about it right now. Why don’t you drag your sorry ass over here and prove you’re worth my time? Unless you’re scared I’ll eat you alive.”
There was a pause, and then a low, hungry growl. “Scared? Ilona, I’ve been waiting for this call since the day you said ‘I do’ to that pencil-pusher. I’ll be there in twenty. Don’t you dare change out of whatever you’re wearing—or not wearing.”
I hung up without another word, my heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and raw, unfiltered desire. Standing, I sauntered to the mirror, adjusting my robe to show just enough cleavage to make a man weep. The deep red silk clung to my curves like a lover’s hands, and I knew Marcus wouldn’t stand a chance. Not that I planned on making it easy for him.
Exactly eighteen minutes later, the doorbell rang. I took my sweet time walking to the door, letting him stew on the porch for a moment before swinging it open with a smirk. There he was—six feet of pure, unadulterated sin. Dark jeans hugged his muscular thighs, and his black t-shirt strained against his broad chest. His eyes, sharp and predatory, raked over me from head to toe, lingering on the bare skin peeking out from my robe.
“Damn, woman,” he muttered, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “You trying to kill me before I even get through the door?”
I shut the door behind him, leaning against it with a tilt of my hip. “If I wanted you dead, Marcus, I wouldn’t waste my time dressing up for it. Sit.” I pointed to the couch, my tone leaving no room for argument.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but obeyed, sprawling out on the couch like he owned the place. “Bossy as ever, I see. What’s next? You gonna make me beg for a glass of water?”
I laughed, sharp and cutting, as I strutted past him toward the kitchen, letting my robe slip just a fraction more off my shoulder. “Begging’s a good look on you, Marcus. But let’s start with something simpler. Eyes up here—or are you already too distracted to keep up?”
His gaze snapped to my face, though I could see the heat in it, the barely restrained hunger. “Oh, I’m keeping up, Ilona. But let’s not pretend you’re not parading around like that on purpose. You want me drooling, don’t you?”
I turned, leaning against the kitchen counter with a glass of wine in hand, taking a slow, deliberate sip before answering. “Drooling, panting, crawling—whatever gets the job done. My husband’s off playing corporate lapdog, leaving me with nothing but time and a whole lot of pent-up... energy. You think you’re man enough to handle it, or should I call someone else?”
Marcus leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his smirk turning dangerous. “Your husband couldn’t handle a woman like you with a goddamn instruction manual. Me? I don’t need directions. I know exactly what you need, and I’m not some suit who’s gonna bore you to tears in bed.”
I raised an eyebrow, setting the glass down with a deliberate clink. “Big words for a man who’s still sitting on my couch like a good little boy. David may be dull, but at least he knows when to shut up and follow orders. You gonna keep talking, or are you gonna show me why I bothered inviting you over?”
His eyes darkened, and he stood, closing the distance between us in three long strides. But I held up a hand, stopping him just inches away, my nails grazing his chest through his shirt. “Not so fast, hotshot. You don’t get to touch until I say so. And right now, I’m enjoying the view of you squirming.”
He let out a low, frustrated groan, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You’re a cruel woman, Ilona. But fine—play your games. Just know I’m not the patient type. Two days with me, and you’ll forget that husband of yours even exists.”
I stepped closer, my breath hot against his ear as I whispered, “Prove it, Marcus. Make me forget. But don’t think for a second I’m some damsel waiting to be swept off her feet. I’m the one calling the shots here—and you’re gonna love every second of it.”
The air between us crackled, thick with unspoken promises and the kind of tension that could ignite a wildfire. Two days. Two days of sin, of control, of everything I’d been craving. And as I stared into Marcus’s hungry eyes, I knew—this was just the beginning.
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