"You're crazy," Avery hisses.

She turns her head and bites his upper arm, tasting his damp skin. He groans, but he doesn't pull away. She bites harder until he gasps with pain.

"Do you want it rough?" he asks her.

Before she can answer, he kisses her neck. He brushes his lips down to her collarbone and gently nibbles on the skin. He trails kiss up to her jaw, sucking lightly. She moans and squirms against him, feeling desire build between her legs.

"I haven't left any marks yet, but if you don't cooperate, I might," he says. "Do you think Andrew will like seeing hickeys on his fiancé?"

"Wait, no, don't touch me," Avery says. "We can't. Andrew is just outside the door—he'll hear us."

Loud voices shout and argue outside the door. Avery recognizes one of them as Robert's and the other as Andrew's. The voices get louder and louder until it sounds like they're in the same room. Avery trembles and looks at Evan nervously. Images of the bloody doctor flash through her mind, and she wonders if Andrew will shoot Robert too—he certainly sounds angry enough to do it.

"So tell me, why do you carry the recording pen with you?" Evan asks.

"Nanny needs to hear your voice," Avery says. "The doctor said it might help her wake from her coma. I never know when I'll get the chance to visit her, so I like to be prepared."

"Is it really so hard to tell me the truth?" Evan asks.

He slides his warm hand into her pants and strokes the front of her underwear. She knows she should pull away, but she lifts her hips and presses herself against his hand. He smirks and takes his hand out of her pants and slips it under her shirt. He slides his fingers along her spine and unhooks her bra with a quick flick of his wrist.

"Evan, get your hands off me," she says, hating how breathy her voice sounds.

He smirks, unbuttons her top, and slowly slides her bra straps off her shoulders. He cups her breasts in his hands and traced circles around her nipples. She bites her lip to keep from moaning—Andrew is still arguing with Robert outside the room.

"You want me," Evan says.

"No, I don't," Avery lies. "Get off me."

He slides a hand down her pants and runs his index finger along the front of her underwear again. She gasps and writhes under him, and he laughs low in his throat. He reaches for the nightstand and grabs a silk tie. Before she understands what he's doing, he's tied her hands to the headboard.

"You can't wait for me to fuck you," he whispers against her ear.

"Evan, you asshole," she says.

"Your body and your words are saying different things," he says, pressing his lips to her neck. "I choose to listen to your body."

"Fuck off!" she hisses.

She kicks her legs, trying to push him away, but he dodges her. He uses his knee to spread her legs, and he tugs her pants down, tracing small circles on the front of her underwear. She can feel her desire growing, but she tries to fight it. Suddenly, Evan takes his hand away, and a small moan of protest escapes her lips.

"Have a little patience, Avery," he whispers.

He unties the towel from his hips, balls it up, and throws it across the room. She turns her head to the side, but she can't help seeing his powerful erection. The voices on the other side of the door get louder, and the door opens a crack.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Robert shouts. "I told you, you can't go in!"

"Evan, please untie me," she whispers. "Don't force me to do this?"

Evan raises his eyebrows and asks, "Am I really forcing you? A moment ago, you seemed very eager."

"Just stop this game," she says. "I know you have another woman. If your desire is strong, call her back here. I'm sure she can satisfy you."

"She's nothing to me," Evan says. "She doesn't even deserve my touch."

"Evan, I don't care what you do with her," Avery lies. "Just let me go—we're finished, okay? I'm going to marry Andrew soon, remember?"

Evan's face contorted with rage, and his smile gets dangerously cold. He reaches for her hands and squeezes her injured fingers between his. Her eyes water with pain, but she tries to stay calm. He squeezes harder, and a hot tear falls onto her cheek.

"Ah, yes, your marriage," Evan says, his voice low and sarcastic. "Do you want me to congratulate you? Or perhaps you want me to give you a wedding gift—how about this?"

He grabs her neck and pulls her head toward him. His lips crash violently against hers, and he forces her mouth open with his tongue. He kisses her until they're both panting for breath, and then he pulls her underwear off and thrusts into her.

She screams and arches her back with surprise. He clamps his hand over her mouth, and she remembers that Andrew is just outside the door. She can still hear him screaming at Robert. Evan smirks at her and thrusts into her again.

"You're a freak," she hisses.

Evan nods and caresses her breast with his warm palm. She bites his shoulder to keep from crying out, and he starts to fuck her faster. Sweat beads on his forehead, and his eyes burn with intense lust. The louder the men argue, the harder he fucks her.

Suddenly the door opens wider. She freezes beneath him and stares up at him in a panic. She digs her nails into his back and tries to pull away, but he ignores her.

"Get out of me," she whispers. "Please, it's bad enough for Andrew to walk in on this, but at least get out of me first."

Evan stops thrusting, but he stays inside her. He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs the recording pen. He holds it inches from her mouth.

"Tell me you love me first," he says.

She presses her lips together and shakes her head. He probably just wants it so he can show it to Andrew. I'm just a pawn in their rivalry with each other. She struggles against the restraints on her wrists, trying to take the recorder away from him.

"Say you love me, and I'll let you go," Evan says.

"Don't force me to say it," she says. "It means nothing if you force me to say it."

"If I don't force you to say it, you won't say it," Evan says. "Even when we were married, you wouldn't say it."

"I won't," she says. "It's meaningless to force me to say it."

"This is your last chance," Evan warns, holding the pen in front of her face.

"No," she says.

Evan laughs, throws the recorder onto the floor, and shouts, "Let him in."

Avery shakes her head and tries to move away. What the hell is wrong with him—he's still inside me, and he's asking Andrew to come in, she thinks. Is this what gets him off? Is he some kind of sick exhibitionist, or does he just like humiliating Andrew?

"Evan, stop it!" she whispers. "I'll say it. I'll say whatever you want. Just don't let him in. I love you, okay? I love you, and I love you, I love you."

"I'm glad to hear it, but you're a bit too late, Mrs. Clifford," Evan says. "Your husband is about to get quite the show."