The dim glow of the city lights filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, casting long shadows across the marble floors. Faith stepped out of the elevator, her heels clicking softly as she entered the space she knew so well yet felt electric tonight. The air was thick with anticipation, her pulse quickening at the sight of him.
He stood by the bar, pouring two glasses of deep red wine, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal the hard lines of his chest. Marcus turned, his dark eyes locking onto hers with that predatory hunger she’d come to crave. “You’re late,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.
“Traffic,” she replied, but the excuse died on her lips as he set the glasses down and crossed the room in three strides. His hand slid
