her back and simply stared down at the woman who held his heart captive. She was staring, unblinking, up at the ceiling and quietly weeping. A river of tears ran into her hairline to seep into the comforter.
Marcus took a breath, she was over-emotional, worn-out and fretting about Charlotte. He could feel waves of all three coming from her mind. Plus, he noted with a frown, she'd lost weight. She needed to feed. But first, she required pampering and support and a lot of love.
First up, a bath.
Shrugging off his suit jacket, his tie, his shirt as he went into the bathroom, he tossed salts and a couple of drops of her favourite bath oil into water steaming from the taps. While the enormous tub filled, he stripped, stepped into the power shower and washed away the stresses and strains of the day. He was picking up a lot of the business slack for James, which meant his workload had doubled. Not that he was complaining. Hadn't James done exactly the same for him when he'd messed up with Anais in Shanghai?
By the time he'd towel dried his hair, her bath was ready.
When he returned to their bed, she hadn't moved.
Tears were drying on her drenched cheeks.
Those beautiful big almond shaped eyes were unbearably sad.
God, he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen such a luminous beauty. It was as if Anais was lit from within.
Without speaking he started to strip her and she simply lay there and let him.
He took a selfish moment to admire long lean arms and legs, the tight little breasts with their tight little nipples the color of caramel and her flat belly, her pubis. All of which made him hard as stone. Wryly he bit his top lip. There was no sign of his predictable response to her diminishing any time soon.
Scooping her up in his arms he carried her through to the bathroom and placed her in warm, scented water.
"Too hot?" he asked.
She shook her head and her eyes closed as she sat, wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her cheek on her knees. With gentle hands he removed the hair-tie from her slippery tresses, piled her hair on top of her head and tied it in a messy top-knot to keep it dry. Then he knelt beside the tub, grabbed a large sponge and soap and set about looking after his woman.
Anais wondered if the black fog in her mind was what depression felt like.
She'd no idea since she'd never been depressed in her life, not even when Marcus brought her into his world. She'd been spitting mad. Sometimes she still felt mad. No, the darkness that weighed her down was different. Charlotte was in so much pain. Her mind living in a place of pandemonium and bewilderment. And who could blame her? Anais closed her eyes as the too tight muscles in her shoulders were massaged with firm fingers.
God, her husband had magic hands.
And he knew exactly how to use them.
"Do you want to lie back? Or do you want me in there with you?"
Her eyelids were so heavy it took an incredible act of will simply to lift them.
When she did, she saw a sight for sore eyes.
Her man was watching her like a hawk, his violently blue eyes edged with disgracefully long lashes seemed to reach right into her soul. His hair, black as jet, was damp and tousled and his strong jaw badly needed a shave. She loved the hard bones of that brooding face with a mouth just made for kissing.
"I want you in here with me," she said.
The flash of dimple in his left cheek was somewhat incongruous. After all, who'd ever heard of a big bad vampyre with a dimple? He rose and she couldn't help but catch the sight of his dazzling arousal. Satin over steel. She felt that shaft settle at her back as he slid in behind her. Now she sat between his legs and lay back against him, letting him take her weight, as he continued long leisurely strokes of the sponge down her torso. He lifted her arms up to link her hands around his neck. In this position she was wide open to him. He payed particular attention to her breasts and then slid the sponge gently between her legs. Oh
Marcus took a breath, she was over-emotional, worn-out and fretting about Charlotte. He could feel waves of all three coming from her mind. Plus, he noted with a frown, she'd lost weight. She needed to feed. But first, she required pampering and support and a lot of love.
First up, a bath.
Shrugging off his suit jacket, his tie, his shirt as he went into the bathroom, he tossed salts and a couple of drops of her favourite bath oil into water steaming from the taps. While the enormous tub filled, he stripped, stepped into the power shower and washed away the stresses and strains of the day. He was picking up a lot of the business slack for James, which meant his workload had doubled. Not that he was complaining. Hadn't James done exactly the same for him when he'd messed up with Anais in Shanghai?
By the time he'd towel dried his hair, her bath was ready.
When he returned to their bed, she hadn't moved.
Tears were drying on her drenched cheeks.
Those beautiful big almond shaped eyes were unbearably sad.
God, he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen such a luminous beauty. It was as if Anais was lit from within.
Without speaking he started to strip her and she simply lay there and let him.
He took a selfish moment to admire long lean arms and legs, the tight little breasts with their tight little nipples the color of caramel and her flat belly, her pubis. All of which made him hard as stone. Wryly he bit his top lip. There was no sign of his predictable response to her diminishing any time soon.
Scooping her up in his arms he carried her through to the bathroom and placed her in warm, scented water.
"Too hot?" he asked.
She shook her head and her eyes closed as she sat, wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her cheek on her knees. With gentle hands he removed the hair-tie from her slippery tresses, piled her hair on top of her head and tied it in a messy top-knot to keep it dry. Then he knelt beside the tub, grabbed a large sponge and soap and set about looking after his woman.
Anais wondered if the black fog in her mind was what depression felt like.
She'd no idea since she'd never been depressed in her life, not even when Marcus brought her into his world. She'd been spitting mad. Sometimes she still felt mad. No, the darkness that weighed her down was different. Charlotte was in so much pain. Her mind living in a place of pandemonium and bewilderment. And who could blame her? Anais closed her eyes as the too tight muscles in her shoulders were massaged with firm fingers.
God, her husband had magic hands.
And he knew exactly how to use them.
"Do you want to lie back? Or do you want me in there with you?"
Her eyelids were so heavy it took an incredible act of will simply to lift them.
When she did, she saw a sight for sore eyes.
Her man was watching her like a hawk, his violently blue eyes edged with disgracefully long lashes seemed to reach right into her soul. His hair, black as jet, was damp and tousled and his strong jaw badly needed a shave. She loved the hard bones of that brooding face with a mouth just made for kissing.
"I want you in here with me," she said.
The flash of dimple in his left cheek was somewhat incongruous. After all, who'd ever heard of a big bad vampyre with a dimple? He rose and she couldn't help but catch the sight of his dazzling arousal. Satin over steel. She felt that shaft settle at her back as he slid in behind her. Now she sat between his legs and lay back against him, letting him take her weight, as he continued long leisurely strokes of the sponge down her torso. He lifted her arms up to link her hands around his neck. In this position she was wide open to him. He payed particular attention to her breasts and then slid the sponge gently between her legs. Oh
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