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 make love to her. His rejection stung, burned like antiseptic doused on a bloody wound.
Resting her hands on her stomach, she blinked back the tears that filled her eyes. Having twins had taken a toll on her body, and it was times like this Simone wondered if Marcus was starting to lose interest in her sexually. She didn’t have the tight, shapely figure she’d had when they first met, and nursing her sons had all but ruined her boobs. If not for her fear of going under the knife, she would have had a breast lift years ago.
Simone stared up at the ceiling, wondering, thinking, turning questions over in her mind. What happened to the sweet, sensitive guy who used to think the world of me? she thought sadly. Marcus had been emotionally AWOL for months, and whenever they talked, she could tell his thoughts were a million miles away. He complained that she hassled him too much, said that she was unappreciative of what he did for their family. Could it be true? Had her incessant nagging killed their romance? For months she’d been telling herself that he was just stressed about work, but deep down Simone knew it was something else.
Panting, her head spinning, her heart racing, she bolted upright. Or maybe it isn’t something else, she thought, swallowing the lump of fear in her throat, but someone else?
Simone shook her head, booted the thought from her mind. Now she was just being silly. Marcus wasn’t the cheating type. He was a workaholic, but at least he was a loyal one. Another thought struck, this one more terrifying than the last. The truth was staring her in the face, flashing like a fifty-foot neon billboard: Marcus wasn’t in love with her. That’s why he was working around the clock and why he was in his office now instead of in their marital bed.
Sweat drenched her skin, soaked the plush, thousand-thread-count sheets. Winded, as if she’d been kicked in the stomach, Simone struggled to breathe. As she sat there, shaking, listening to the wind whistling through the trees, the same question ran over and over again in her mind.
Can my marriage be saved or is it too late?
Chapter 3
“Ma’am, would you like another dirty martini?”
Ma’am? Simone stared openmouthed at the dark-haired waiter. But I’m only twenty-nine! Deciding he was just being polite and not trying to insult her, she nodded and rested her empty cocktail glass on his tray. “And if it’s not too much trouble, could you bring us some more of your garlic cheese biscuits? They’re so good I could eat the whole basket myself.”
“You did!” Angela Kelly quipped, pointing a finger at her. “I only had one!”
They laughed.
“I can’t believe how busy it is in here.” Simone settled against the oriental-style cushions
