CHAPTER 15
EZRA
“Okay,” I turn around in the living room of the Victorian house that I never could have anticipated being Titus’ home.
I really don’t know what else to say. This house is perfect.
The only thing I wouldn’t have picked is leather for the couch. I’m not into sticking to my furniture if I’m snuggling under a blanket in pajama shorts. And, yes, I do that.
But I can work around leather on the couch.
The first floor is mostly open. I love the large dining room that flows right into the kitchen. The table in the dining room is huge, and I can picture having a family dinner around it. Or holiday meals.
The kitchen is just as nice; it’s all clean lines and stainless steel. The large island helps to keep the spaces defined, and I can easily see myself drinking a cup of coffee at the island while working on lesson plans. I try and push the image away.
It’s almost too sweet and far too easy to picture.
“What do you think?”
I turn back toward Titus. When I really look at him, his nervousness is obvious. It’s kind of cute to see the big, bad boy biker Prez feeling vulnerable. He shifts from one foot to the other.
“I don’t know Titus,” the tone of my voice makes it sound like I haven’t already fallen in love with this house.
While tapping my chin, I look around the room, taking it in again while keeping an eye on my biker.
He sounds genuinely offended when he asks, “What do you mean you don’t know?”
“It’s really beautiful,” I breathe out, the truth slipping free because it’s simply not worth it to mess with him.
Not when he’s looking adorably uncertain.
His eyes light up when I look over at him and smile. “Did you really think I wouldn’t like it? This house is wonderful,” I assure him.
“I wasn’t sure if it would be your style,” he winces slightly with his words, like he’s admitted more than he wanted to.
I walk toward him slowly, taking my time, loving the way his eyes roam over me with every step. I’m not sure my hips have ever swayed so much. It wouldn’t surprise me if I look ridiculous, like a cockeyed donkey, but he’s looking at me like I’m the sexiest woman he’s ever seen.
“I’ll be honest with you,” he swallows hard when I pause, “I would change the couch fabric to something a little softer. Other than that, I think this place is beautiful. If the rest of it is like this, I’m not upset about staying here.”
Titus laughs and shakes his head while I stop in front of him. The way his fists clench at his sides tells me just how much he wants to reach for me.
“Are you hungry?” He nods toward the kitchen, the movement nervous. Interesting. “I was thinking I could make something. You barely ate any breakfast. Then you can settle in. Or I could give you a tour now?”
I look around, see the stairs, and bite my lip.
“I’m curious,” I admit. “I’m also hungry.
” While considering if I should tell him why I didn’t eat much this morning, I pause.
When I look back up at him, his gray eyes are locked on my mouth.
“I was a little scared about going to my place. You said it was safe, and I believe you. I was still nervous about it and couldn’t really eat breakfast.”
His eyes soften along with his voice, “The rest of the house will be there. We’ll go with food first. If you want to check it out, you can.
On the first floor there is a bathroom, my office, a laundry room, and another room that would be a good craft room for you when you bring everything. There’s nothing in there right now.”
His words are casual, but I still find myself staring at him. Did he just offer me a room in his house to put all my crafting shit?
Marry him.
Holy shit. Nope. That is not what I should be thinking right now.
Marry him!
He seems oblivious to my internal freak-out because he points toward the stairs. “There are four bedrooms upstairs. One is the primary with a bathroom and then one bathroom for the other three rooms.”
I peer up the stairs. “Now I’m even more curious,” I admit without looking at him.
Titus clearing his throat draws my attention back to him. His eyes dart upstairs and then back to me. Very interesting.
“Why do you keep looking up there?” I can’t help it; the question tumbles out of me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tries to deflect, but it falls flat. I narrow my eyes at him, but he doesn’t seem at all bothered by it. Not that I can blame him, I’m not exactly intimidating. “So, food?”
He moves toward the kitchen without waiting for me to answer. When I follow behind him, he glances at me over his shoulder.
“What?” He sounds surprised, “You don’t want to check everything out?”
“And miss my new favorite cooking show? Not a chance.”
I get comfortable at the island and tuck my hands under my chin while grinning eagerly at him. He huffs out a sound that might be a laugh and pulls open his fridge. It looks surprisingly well stocked.
I’m fucking mesmerized watching him grab ingredients. There’s something profoundly capable about his movements.
“I do have to feed myself,” his tone had an edge of defensiveness. “I’m not a complete moron when it comes to the kitchen.”
With my hands held up in surrender, I offer, “I just said I didn’t want to miss the show. Will you be putting on an apron? Will you be wearing anything under it?”
He grins at me. “I’m making sheet-pan kebobs. How’s that sound?”
I wave my hand over what he’s pulled together. “Please. I can’t wait to watch this.”
After grabbing a knife, he gives me a pointed look. “As long as you don’t start recording me or some shit.”
My head tips back as I laugh. “I would have thought you’d be into making a video,” I tease him.
He pauses, shoots me a heated look that goes straight to my hussy of a clit, and then starts cubing steak and cutting vegetables. “If you’re talking about a sex video, I would maybe be down for that.”
When he looks at me again, like he’s really thinking about it, my pussy clenches. One side of his mouth curls up slightly in a sneer and he shakes his head.
“Nope,” his voice is harsh, “I can’t allow it to even exist because everything is digital and that’s a messy as fuck thing to keep completely safe from hacking. I’m not willing to risk it,” he says decisively.
“I gotta say, this possessive thing is really working for me, Prez,” my voice might be sultry, it also might sound like I’m eating taffy.
The heated look Titus gives me is enough. More than enough.
I can’t tear my eyes away from his hands, the strength in them, the way he holds the knife steadily. Every cut he makes is precise. He even pulls out a selection of spices. And uses them.
Damn; his hands. There are a few callouses and tattoos on a few fingers.
Hand porn. It’s a real thing.
Fuck. I can barely look at the man’s forearms, which are on full display, for fear of combusting on the spot.
After he closes the door of the oven, he’s stalking around the island. He lifts me up while nudging the chair out of the way. When he steps between my legs, I loop my arms around his neck. It feels natural to stand here with him like this.
“It’s going to take a little while to cook,” he informs me, like I wasn’t watching his every movement with stalker-like intensity. I nod slowly, the closeness of his body to mine making it difficult to concentrate. “I could give you a tour right now,” he offers.
“You look like you have other ideas about how to spend the time,” I lob back at him.
Because he’s looking at me with hunger. Not just me, but his eyes are darting between meeting my gaze and my mouth.
“Oh, I definitely have some ideas,” he rumbles.
Then he’s taking my mouth in a kiss that’s brutal in its intensity with an edge of sweetness which has me melting into his body. I give myself over to him, kissing him back and exploring his mouth. Getting lost in him isn’t difficult.
It feels natural.
Right.
He groans against my lips, “I can’t remember the last time I just wanted to make out with a woman for hours, but every time I get a look at your lips, it’s all I want to do.”
“Just make out?” I try to tease him, but it comes out too breathy to sound anything other than a plea for more.
The way his hands tighten on my waist tells me his control is wavering. “You’re dangerous,” his voice is husky.
“I thought that was you,” I groan the words, his lips leaving my mouth to move over my jaw and down my neck.
“Oh, I’m dangerous,” his words slide along my skin and I arch my back, trying to get closer to him, “but never to you.”
A gasp falls from my lips, but then he’s there, his mouth against mine and swallowing down the sound. We get lost in kissing each other, our hands roaming, mapping out each other’s bodies. Not a single stitch of clothing is removed.
It doesn’t need to be.
But, fuck, I’m so turned on, I almost want to push and see how long he can hold out.
The way Titus’ fingers flex on my hips, like he wants to pull me even closer to the edge, makes me feel reckless.
My nails dig into his neck and I’m just about to beg him to strip me and fuck me until I’m boneless, but the timer for the oven goes off.
He steps away and reaches down to adjust himself. Do I watch? Yup! Every movement. When he lifts me down, he kisses my forehead before moving away.
After plating everything up, we sit down to eat at the island. He watches me closely as I take a bite. It’s creepy as fuck.
I reach up and cover his eyes with my hands, chewing quickly. “You can’t just stare at me like that while I’m eating,” I tell him when I finally can. “It creeps me out.”
“Sorry,” he chuckles the word, but I get the feeling he’s not sorry at all.
“It is delicious though,” I assure him.
The smile on his face is almost boyish, and it has my gut clenching because it’s so damn sweet. And those little glimpses don’t happen often.