“Sir, do you want me to contact the police?” the security guard asked as the intruder began to saunter out.

 “Yes.”

The girl spun around. “Fox!”

“Get the fuck out.” With that, he turned his back on the guard and the groupie both, his breathing low and uneven.

Shaking her head at the guard when it appeared the other man might say something, Molly waved him and the screeching girl out. Not until she heard the front door close, locking out the sounds of the girl’s continued disbelief, did she speak. “Fox,” she said softly, “if you have her arrested, the story will—”

“I don’t care.” Reaching out, he began to tug open the hooks that held the lace-paneled jacket tight to her body. “Let them talk about it. We don’t press charges, next time some woman’s going to figure she has the right to walk into our home and our bedroom. They must think I’m a goddamn lowlife—that all a groupie has to do is flash her pussy at me and I’ll cheat.”

Molly realized he wasn’t going to listen in this mood. She grabbed his wrists. “Not in this bed.” No way was she about to lie on those sheets. “Take me bent over the sofa.”

Fox’s fingers halted in the act of undoing the final hook, the jacket having parted to expose the scarlet-and-black bustier she’d worn underneath for his eyes only, the pale globes of her breasts exposed by the half cups. “You liked it when I did that before?” he asked, the anger smoldering into passion.

Molly pressed her thighs together at the gritty sin of his voice, but she was aware he wasn’t calm yet, the smoky green holding a hard edge. “Yes.” Undoing the final hook herself, she shrugged off the jacket. “I really liked it.”

Grabbing her hand, Fox pulled her into the living room and had her bend over the low sofa, hands braced on the back. The position made her arch her back, her butt higher than her head. “Don’t move.” With that harsh order, he went to the main door and threw the dead bolt.

Fox knew he was in the grip of a vicious temper, but he also knew he would never hurt a hair on Molly’s head—and he needed to touch her. Brand her.

Stripping away her skinny black skirt but leaving her red heels on, he ripped off her panties to reveal the creamy curves of her body. The contrast of the silk bustier against her skin was so erotic he knew he’d make her ride him one day while dressed just like this. Not today. Today, he needed to be the one in charge, needed to know she’d accept him after the bullshit that had just gone down.

Hot with a combination of rage and lust, he tore off his own clothes without taking his eyes from the luscious sight of her bent over waiting for him, a flush of heat beneath the cream. At any other time, he’d have talked, have teased, further jacking up their arousal. Tonight, he gripped her hips and nudged at her with his cock.

Scalding heat, honey slickness.

Plunging in to the hilt to her gasp, he shifted one hand to her nape, holding her in position as he thrust hard and deep, his balls slapping against her with every stroke. It wasn’t enough. He needed to feel her pleasure, needed to know she was his on this most elemental level, that her trust in him hadn’t been damaged. Sliding his hand to her navel, he reached down and squeezed the succulent nub of her clit between thumb and forefinger.

“Fox!” It was a soft scream, her orgasm sweet and hot around him.

Bottoming out, he gritted his teeth as she squeezed him in possessive clenches, his own orgasm tearing down his spine. He hauled her up against him while his cock still twitched inside her. Breath jagged, he wrapped one arm around her waist, the hand of the other around her throat. “I will never fuck around on you.”

Chest heaving, Molly reached back to cup the side of his face. “I know,” she whispered, her voice breathless. “Baby, I know.”

She wasn’t sure Fox was calm enough to hear her even now, so she waited until after, when she was in his arms on the sofa, her bustier discarded beside her skirt and her body flush with his. Then, rising up on her elbow, she ran her fingers gently through his hair, petting him until he was no longer so on edge.

“I know you won’t cheat,” she said, looking into his eyes to make sure she had his attention, that he’d hear every word she said. “I might’ve worried at the start, before I truly knew you, but I haven’t for a long time.” He was too blunt, too honest to go behind her back. “You’d tell me to my face if you wanted out.”

“Never going to happen.” An unyielding statement, his arm steel around her back. “You’re stuck with me.”

“I like being stuck with you.” Continuing to run her fingers through his hair, she leaned down to kiss him, sips and licks that were more about being with one another than sex. “You don’t have to worry that things like this will make me doubt you.”

“There’ll be lies,” he told her, one hand rising to curve around the side of her neck, his thumb grazing her jaw, “in the tabloids and magazines and online. I won’t always have a way to prove I didn’t do something.”

“Fox, I trust you.”‘ She turned her face to kiss his palm. Never had she thought she’d feel this kind of trust in a man, but Fox had taught her how—by being the man that he was. Temper, talent, and an unflinching loyalty. “As long as you talk to me, we’ll be okay.” Her lips curved. “Or you can sex me silly, then talk. I’m good either way.”

The sinew and muscle and strength of him seemed to fully ease at last. “I like that last option.” Shifting her so she lay on top of him, their bodies rubbing against one another, he pushed back her hair from her face, held her gaze. “Your trust means everything, Molly. I won’t let you down.”

“I know,” she said, so content and safe in his arms that she couldn’t imagine anyone or anything tearing them apart.

The world, however, had other ideas.

Molly woke with a jerk when Fox’s cell phone went off in what felt like the middle of the night. Swearing, he let go of her to turn and reach for his discarded jeans. “Sorry”—a sleepy rumble—“I’ll turn it off.”

“’S ’kay.” Already sliding back into sleep, Molly snuggled to his back… and felt the instant his muscles locked. She came immediately awake. “Who is it?”

“Thea.” Turning to wrap his arm around her, he put the call on speaker. “Go, Thea.”

“Is Molly with you?”

 “Yes, I’m here,” Molly said, knowing it couldn’t be good news if her sister was calling at what the phone told her was four in the morning. “Has something happened?”

“Yes, and it’s bad.” Her tone made ice form in Molly’s bones, her heart in her throat. “Before I tell you,” Thea continued, “I want to say I’m so sorry, Moll. I’ll do whatever it takes to bury this.”

“Just spit it out,” Fox ordered.

“Some sick fuck managed to sneak in and set up a video camera in one of your previous hotel suites.” Thea’s words were bullets in the silence. “It might’ve been motion activated, or just started and left to run until the digital card was full. From the angle on the still photos posted from the video, it looks like it was on a shelf.”

Nausea swirled in Molly’s stomach, skin flushing hot, then cold. She had a horrible feeling she knew exactly where the camera must’ve been—their last hotel suite had had an antique shelf against one wall of the bedroom, set up with old books in a way she’d found charming at the time.

“Where?” Fox demanded.

“Bedroom.”

Molly jumped from the sofa and ran for the toilet, barely making it there before her stomach revolted. Throwing up so hard it felt as if her entire digestive tract was being peeled with a grater, she was barely aware of Fox coming after her and pulling her hair back so it was no longer in her face, his voice a low, rough murmur as he stroked his hand down her back.