Becca couldn't count how many times he took her. All she knew was how exhausted he left her—she couldn’t even move a limb.
She could hear the steady rise and fall of his breathing until it softened. When she looked at him, he was already asleep, looking nothing like the man who had been pounding into her just moments ago.
Her eyes trailed over his sleeping form, taking in the sharp contours of his face. His features were perfectly proportioned, the kind that could make anyone's heart stop. His rough hair lay messily against the pillow. This man—this gorgeous man—was far more handsome than Mark had ever been.
What a shame, really. He really was mated to Bianca, this godlike looking man. He had missed a bullet there. Then again, she wasn’t innocent herself—she had married Dean for her own
