The Do Not Disturb sign stayed on the door.

Elena sat on the edge of the ruined bed in nothing but the marks he had left on her. The newest bruise—high on the inner curve of her left breast—still felt hot where his mouth had worked it earlier. She touched it with two fingertips and watched the skin pale, then flood back to dark purple. Across the room Marcus stood at the desk sorting the last of the room-service plates into a neat stack. He had not put a shirt on all day. The low light from the single lamp caught the lines of his shoulders and the dark hair...