He Denied Touching Me So Whose Marks Are On My Body?

"You were like a starved beast last night," I complained, spreading jam on my toast.

Gideon's hands froze mid-knot on his tie. He turned to me, his eyes filled with utter bewilderment.

"Nadia, are you out of your mind? I was in the study finishing up that proposal last night. I crashed on the couch at three in the morning. I never even went into the bedroom."

The knife dropped from my hand onto the table.

If the man I made love to all night wasn't my husband.

Then... who was it?

——

"You've got to be joking."

I let out a dry laugh and bent down to pick the knife up off the floor.

As the movement pulled at the muscles in my inner thighs, the intense ache made me wince and suck in a sharp breath.

"Who has the energy to joke around with you?"

Gideon frowned, planting his hands heavily on the dining table.

"I’ve been so stressed lately I’m about to snap. That old bastard Caldwell is forcing me to deliver the entire plan today. You think I have the time or the mood to sneak into the bedroom in the pitch dark to play some hard-to-get games with you?"

His tone was laced with obvious accusation, as if I were the one being completely unreasonable.

The raw honesty and anger in his eyes sent a chill down my spine.

I froze in place, my mind frantically replaying the scenes from last night.

There hadn't been a single sliver of light in the room.

It definitely wasn't a dream.

Those hands had been calloused and scorching hot, gripping my hip bones like an iron vise. He had pressed his heavy weight against me from behind in the dark. Without any foreplay or a single word, he had thrust into me with brutal force.

I had assumed it was Gideon, pushed to the absolute edge by work, letting out his primal frustrations.

He had moved with a ferocious, unrelenting rhythm. Every savage thrust split me to the core, driving into me so hard it shattered my cries. That terrifying, exaggerated size... that pounding force that felt like it was going to crush me and swallow me whole made me shudder just thinking about it.

I could even vividly remember feeling the rigid, flexing muscles of his back.

"But..."

I opened my mouth, a tremor in my voice, and abruptly yanked open the collar of my pajamas.

"Last night, I swear... you left marks on my shoulders..."

Nothing.

In the mirror, my neck and collarbones were perfectly clean. Not a single hickey.

That man had been like a ghost, flawlessly avoiding any skin that would normally be exposed.

Gideon stared at my unbuttoned collar, his expression shifting to one of sheer exasperation.

"Nadia, are you just sexually frustrated? Did you have a wet dream?"

He let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

"I know I've been neglecting you lately, but I'm really tired. If you're trying to use some made-up complaint to get my attention, you picked the wrong time."

He glanced at his watch, officially out of patience to comfort me any further.

"I'm going to be late. Once I get Caldwell off my back, we'll take a trip to Hawaii, okay? Just stop bothering me with this right now."

Not even waiting for my response, he planted a hurried, perfunctory kiss on my forehead, grabbed his briefcase, and rushed toward the entryway.

Bang.

The front door slammed shut.

The house instantly sank into a terrifyingly dead silence.

I stood rooted to the spot. My inner thighs still felt slick and messy from being so thoroughly overused, giving a faint tremor just from the effort of standing straight. I knew for a fact there still had to be dark, mottled bruises on my skin from where he had gripped me so violently.

How could such a visceral, bone-deep physical reaction simply be a dream?

"Meow—"

The cat's cry snapped me out of my shivering daze.

Corvis, our black cat, padded over from the corner of the living room. He hopped onto the kitchen island and gently nudged the back of my hand with his furry head.

I took a deep breath, telling myself not to be paranoid.

I turned toward the fridge, planning to pour myself a glass of cold milk to steady my racing heartbeat.

The moment I pulled open the refrigerator door, my blood ran absolutely cold.

I had just bought a whole gallon of whole milk on my way home from work yesterday, and I'd only poured a single glass. But now, the jug was practically empty.

Gideon was severely lactose intolerant. He wouldn't even look at a jug of milk.

And there was absolutely no physical way I had chugged nearly a gallon by myself in the middle of the night.

Who drank the milk?

My head whipped around as I scanned the area.

The quiet living room.

The half-open bedroom door.

The dark, echoing hallway.

Just then, my gaze drifted past the kitchen island and locked onto the half-open trash can.

Inside the fresh garbage bag I had put in right before bed last night, partially concealed beneath a few crumpled tissues, lay a used, tied-off condom.

It was filled with cloudy fluid.

It was an extra-large.

And Gideon’s stash in his nightstand drawer had always been medium.

Corvis jumped down from the island, trotted over to the fridge, and lowered his head to lick up a stray, milky white drop splattered on the floor.

If the man I made love to all night wasn't my husband...

Then what exactly... had gotten into my house?