Mark was folding laundry in the bedroom when he froze, holding up one of Emma’s tank tops. His brow furrowed as he stared at her neck and upper chest.

“Emma… what the hell are those?” he asked, voice tight with confusion and growing concern.

Emma glanced up from her phone, heart skipping. She had been careless. The collar of her shirt had slipped, revealing several dark hickeys and a couple of faint purple bruises along her collarbone and the side of her neck. There were more on her inner thighs and ass, but those were thankfully hidden.

She quickly pulled her shirt up, pretending to be casual. “Oh, these? It’s...