The morning after the photoshoot, I’m still buzzing with Davis.

I’m tired, but I get out of bed and start breakfast. I try to distract myself from thinking of him, of getting on my knees and sucking his cock, how fucking hot it was to swallow his cum, to make him groan, get him off.

And kissing him, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

That was just a stroke of genius, if I do say so myself.

I’m smiling by the time I’m done cooking. I think he liked it when I kissed him after I was done. I think he likes when I get feisty, aggressive, angry.

He shouldn’t. I’m not acting angry.

I really am angry.

But that anger is mixed with confusion. I can’t seem to separate the two out, no matter how hard I try.

Because I want him. I hate myself for it, but god damn, I want him. Every time he comes near me, I’m dripping wet just thinking about what he could do to my body.

I want to go wild, lose myself. I want to feel his hands on my skin, make him fuck me until my back arches.

I want it all. And that big cock…

Well, maybe not all of it. Maybe not right away, at least.

I need to work myself up to taking it all.

I’m smiling as I drink coffee and eat some eggs. He’s still not up when my phone starts ringing.

An unknown number. I frown, consider ignoring it, but I decide to answer on a whim.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Carly Miller?”

It’s a man’s voice, terse and serious and deep. “Yes, this is she.”

“Hello, Ms. Miller. Or should I say, Mrs. King?”

I laugh softly, although it’s forced. “Right. Mrs. King, I’m not used to that yet.”

“Of course,” he says softly. “Ma’am, my name is Agent Long of the US Immigration and Customs Enforcement. My office has been buzzing about your recent marriage for a couple days now.”

My jaw practically hits the floor.

This is it. I mean, this is what Davis said was going to happen.

But we didn’t prep. We were supposed to go over his family history and all that, but we didn’t have time. I mean, we’ve only been married for like two days now. I’ve been too busy coming to grips with my situation to actually start studying what I need to know.

I force myself to laugh again, and I can hear how hollow it sounds. “Really?” I ask. “Why would Immigration care about our marriage?”

Playing dumb is the oldest trick in the book. It’s probably patently stupid, but whatever. I’m too off guard to come up with something cleverer.

“You do realize, Mrs. King, that your husband is not a United States citizen?”

I clear my throat. “Of course, but he’s Canadian. I mean, and he’s been here forever. Why would ICE care about him?”

There’s a short pause on the other end. I think that’s a reasonable argument to make. I’m playing the silly actress girl from his past, the trophy wife, the bimbo. I have to play a little stupid, at least.

“Ma’am, our office deals with all immigrants, not just those from our southern border.”

“Oh,” I say. “Okay, so like, he’s an illegal?”

“No,” he says. “Not exactly.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

He sighs. I can tell Agent Long is already sick of dealing with the new Mrs. King. I can’t help but smile a little bit at that.

“Mr. King has been having some issues lately with our office, but marrying you would solve all of those questions. Can you understand why my office would be interested in you?”

“No,” I say. “I really don’t get it.”

Another short silence. “We want to speak with you in person,” he says finally. “Will you be available to meet this week?”

“No,” I say quickly. “We’ll be on our honeymoon.”

“Of course.” His voice is flat. “When will you be returning?”

“One week,” I say.

“I’ll schedule something with you then. Have a wonderful day, Mrs. King.”

He hangs up the phone abruptly. I stare down the floor for a second, my heart racing.

I just lied to an Immigration official. I mean, those were pretty small lies, but still.

I lied for Davis.

It’s beginning.

I hurry to the stairs without thinking. I run up then, taking them two at a time. I bypass the second floor, where I’m staying, and head up to the third.

I stop outside of the door marked OFFICE before pushing inside.

It looks just like I remember. Bookshelves, desk. Except there’s a door to the right that I missed the first time I was in here, which isn’t surprising. I was too busy staring at Davis to take note of my surroundings.

I walk over to the door and pull it open, heart racing.

This is Davis’s room. He explained to me yesterday that I’m not supposed to come up here if I don’t absolutely need to.

But of course this is a pretty good reason to go seek him out.

I step inside his bedroom. Up ahead, there’s a large bed, king-size, neatly made with gray covers. There’s a dresser, two nightstands, a lamp. It’s almost bare.

I turn my head to the right. There’s an open door with some steam spilling out of it.

And Davis is standing there, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs, a towel around his shoulders, his hair damp and tousled.

I blink for a second as the scene slowly comes into focus.

Davis, nearly naked.

His body is lean and muscular. He’s perfectly proportioned, actually. My eyes move down to the boxer briefs, clinging to his body, and the enormous bulge that makes my eyes go even wider.

Until he clears his throat. “What are you doing in here, Carly?”

I snap my gaze back up to his face. “Ah, er, sorry, I didn’t realize you were in the shower.”

He sighs. “I told you not to come in here unless it’s important.”

“I know, I just, I’m sorry.” I can feel myself blushing. “Do you mind putting something on?”

“No,” he says. “You barged in here. What do you want?”

I chew my lip before looking at him. I get myself together. He’s grinning now, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

“I just got a phone call,” I say.

He lifts an eyebrow. “So?”

“From an agent with Immigration and Customs Enforcement.”

He stares at me without speaking or moving. He’s almost like a statue standing there, mostly naked, mind whirling.

“What was his name?” he asks me finally.

“His name?” I blink, not expecting this question.

“I assume he said his name.”

“It was Agent Long.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “So, it’s starting.”

“What’s starting? Do you know him?”

Davis takes a deep breath. “Bill Long is a friend of Niko’s. He’s the guy that’s going to bring me down if he can.”

I chew on my lip nervously. “He sounded competent.”

Davis laughs. “Great. Nice to hear.”

“I’m just saying. How is this even legal? I mean, that guy using Immigration against you?”

“He has money and connections. Legality doesn’t apply to a man like him.”

I clench my jaw. “What do we do?”

“Don’t worry, little Carly.” He smiles and steps toward me. I watch him as he comes closer, his body still slightly damp, beautiful in the morning light. “I’m rich and connected too. Laws don’t always apply to me, either.”

“Of course,” I say, shaking my head. “Is this what you people do? You just use people as pawns in your own little games?”

“Pretty much.” He stops close to me, tips my chin up toward him. “I don’t think you mind. In fact, you can’t keep your eyes off my cock right now. I think you like it.”

I pull my chin away from him. “Don’t be such a dick,” I say.

He laughs. “Sometimes you won’t listen to anything else, little Carly.”

“I listen.”

“You don’t. You’re too busy thinking about my cock buried between your legs.”

I glare at him. “Okay, enough. What are we doing about this agent?”

“It’s time for you to start studying,” he says. “You need to learn everything about me. Every little detail. Think you can handle it?”

I stare at him, at his amazing body, his intense eyes, and I want to say no. I want to turn around, leave his house, never look back.

But I don’t quit.

“I can take it,” I say softly. “Bring it on.”

His grin is huge and almost terrifying. “Good. Very good. Now get out of my room.”

I nod once, flip him off, and leave, my head spinning.

Immigration officials. Naked Davis. I don’t know which one is worse.

Actually, yes, I do.

I don’t want to fuck the immigration guy.