Chapter 14
Titus
"This is not at all like driving a car." Mariah grips the wheel of the UTV that was delivered earlier today, looking a little terrified as she directs it across my family's property.
She's not the only one terrified.
Seeing her sitting behind the wheel, knowing how similar her pregnancy seems to be going to Kara's, has me struggling to breathe.
I know she’s safe. Even if for some reason she were to pass out right this very minute, I could make sure we stayed on the road. There’s not a tree in sight and we aren’t even going twenty miles an hour.
Still, I'm struggling.
But I won't try to control her. Won't tell her she's not allowed to drive around the property. Especially since I bought this just for her. Chose a top-of-the-line model with every safety feature imaginable. For all intents and purposes, she’s cocooned in a giant airbag.
I still might throw up.
"You sure you don't want to drive?" Mariah glances my way, knuckles getting whiter with each passing second. "I don't really feel comfortable."
That's all she needs to say. I won't hold her back, but I also won't push her. Won't leave her struggling when it's something I can easily remedy.
"Pull over here." I motion to a flat spot free of rocks and brush.
Once she’s stopped, I unhook my belt, stopping her as she moves to open her door. "Stay in here."
The weather has taken a bit of a turn. It's not awful yet, but the temperature has dropped and the wind is picking up. Just like I won't make her drive when she doesn't want to, I'm also not going to make her get out when she doesn't have to.
I round the front of the vehicle, opening her door. "Scoot across."
When I browsed the available options on this side-by-side, I discovered I was able to choose between two bucket seats and a console, or a single seat running straight across.
I chose the latter. For... reasons. Reasons like Mariah being able to scoot close to me if she gets cold.
Reasons like having a spot for a car seat.
As soon as Mariah has left enough space for me to get in, I settle into her spot, waiting until she's buckled up before pulling back onto the drive.
The tires skid a little looking for traction against the slippery surface, and Mariah sucks in a breath.
She must be more nervous about riding in this thing than I expected, and my hand automatically reaches for her, gripping one knee so she knows I've got her.
I've tried not to touch her over the past twenty-four hours. Even attempted to stay in my rooms this morning to work. I made it all of ten minutes after I heard her moving around before I packed up my computer and went to sit at the island.
I couldn't stand not having my eyes on her. Being there if she needed me. Ready in case something happened.
I hoped to God it wouldn't, because the last time something happened I didn't make the best choices. Tried to make even worse ones. And I would have if it wasn't for my mother's impeccably awful timing.
"Do you think your brothers will all be here tonight?" There's caution in Mariah’s question. And I'm not gonna lie, I really fucking like that she's cautious about my brothers. I know what I am and I know what I'm not. And they’re everything I'm not. Charming. Outgoing. Funny and personable.
Can easily leave their house.
I also know my brothers well enough to say not a single one of them would bat an eye at discovering Mariah's pregnancy.
We grew up watching our dad take care of our mother.
He does everything in his power to make her happy.
To spoil her. I was probably the first of my brothers to understand the dynamic.
How satisfying it can feel to take care of a woman who doesn't need you.
Discovering Mariah’s a package deal leveled that instinct up. I'm going to guess my brothers would feel the same.
I can’t guarantee it since, technically, I've only seen one of them in a real relationship, and that was years ago when youth prevailed and stupidity reigned. Tobias was a fucking idiot, and I’m willing to bet he would do anything to go back and change what happened.
I know exactly how he feels.
And maybe that's why I'm so drawn to Mariah. On some level, I have to admit she might be my own do over. The opportunity to right a wrong. The chance to redeem my soul and reclaim a little peace.
And that makes it even worse that I kissed her.
That I would do just about anything for the opportunity to kiss her again.
I force myself to pull my hand from her body, fingers clenching tight as I grip the wheel to stop myself from reaching for her again.
It's a struggle, but I persevere, and by the time we pull into the garage that houses my parents’ UTVs, I'm feeling like maybe tonight won't be a total shit show.
It'll be a hell of a lot easier to keep my hands off Mariah with an audience.
Climbing out quickly, I round the vehicle to open Mariah’s door.
Once she's on her feet, I collect the strawberry-topped tres leches cake she made, holding it with both hands as we make our way inside. I haven’t been to my parents’ house in quite a while, definitely longer than it should have been, and it feels strange walking in.
Not only because of the guilt I carry for shutting everyone out the way I have, but also because I have someone beside me.
I've been alone—intentionally—for so long that I never expected there would be anyone I could tolerate in my space.
Lucky me, my mother managed to find the most tolerable woman in the country to infiltrate my solitude.
The noise of my family carries through the house as Mariah and I close in on where everyone is in the kitchen, crowded around the island while my mom finishes cooking.
She seems to sense our presence, and looks up, focusing on Mariah as we walk in.
"There they are." Her eyes come to me but only to fix on the pan I'm carrying. "I'm so excited to see what you made."
Mariah's cheeks flush and she gives a little shrug. "I kept it kind of simple."
I set the cake onto the counter. "That's a lie. I watched her make it and it didn't seem simple in the slightest."
I love watching Mariah cook. The efficient and coordinated way she moves around the kitchen is soothing. Almost hypnotic.
Addictive.
"No shit it didn't seem simple to you." Tucker crowds in beside me, lifting the lid to peer at the dessert. "You can't even boil water."
"Yes he can," Mariah argues immediately. "He makes me tea all the time." She lifts her chin, looking offended that my brother would insult my abilities. "And he makes breakfast."
The room goes quiet as everyone stills.
My mother's brows climb her forehead. "Titus cooks?"
"I'm not inept, Mother." I turn to Mariah, absentmindedly working the buttons on her coat loose. "I was busy. Cooking stole time from all the work I had to do."
Again the room goes quiet, and it doesn't immediately register why.
It's not until I've helped Mariah out of her coat and smoothed down the blonde curls she wound into her hair that it registers why everyone is staring at me.
Fuck. We haven't even been here five minutes and I've already accidentally got my hands on the chef my mother hired.
"I'm going to hang our coats up." I sling Mariah’s coat over my arm and stride out of the kitchen, needing a minute to reset.
I don't understand what's wrong with me.
I've successfully isolated myself from the world for over a decade.
Managed to find some semblance of acceptance for what my life has become.
Was completely confident the way I was living was for the best. That I wouldn't change it even if I could.
It's taken Mariah less than a month to prove all my claims and beliefs were bullshit.
At least where she's concerned. I'm still not thrilled about being here and facing the chaos that my family brings when they all get together. I would much rather be at home. Enjoying a quiet evening with her. Which is one more reason why it's probably in everyone's best interest that we’re here. Because if I can’t keep my hands off her with everyone watching, I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do it if we were alone.
Going into the large walk-in closet that serves as my parents’ coat room, I go to work hanging Mariah's coat and mine. I take my time, hoping I’ll find some sense if I look hard enough.
But then I remember I've just left Mariah alone with my brothers. And that is so much worse than her being alone with me. Because if I put my hands on her, I'll beat myself up about it, but I've got no one else to be pissed at.
If one of them can't keep their hands off her? The ass that gets kicked won't be mine.
I turn, intending to rush right back to her side and serve as a barrier, but freeze when I find the very woman I'm going to seek out has found me first.
Mariah's expression is filled with concern as she steps into the closet, closing the door at her back. "Is everything okay?"
No. Nothing has been okay since the day she walked into my house. Everything has been upended. Turned sideways and stood on its head. All I thought I knew—all I thought I wanted—has been proven false.
And I can only ignore it for so long.
"I'm fine."
Mariah shakes her head. "No, you're not." She steps close. "I know this is a lot for you. We can leave right now if you want. I’ll go tell your mom I'm not feeling well and you need to take me home."
The gears in my head shift, directing my thoughts in a new and different direction. "Are you not feeling well?" I bring a palm to her forehead, feeling for clamminess or a fever. "Are you lightheaded?"
Mariah gives me a smile. "No, but I will happily claim I am if you want to go."
I've been so focused on how I can take care of Mariah that up until this moment it hasn’t occurred to me that she is also trying to take care of me. Has been even before we passed the first note or sent the first text.
It's a sobering realization. One that sits uncomfortably in my gut.
"Don't worry about me. I'm going to be fine." She has so much else going on. The last thing she needs to concern herself with is my well-being.
"Someone has to worry about you, because you sure haven't done a very good job of it yourself.
" She reaches up, delicate fingers combing back the clump of hair that's fallen over my brow.
Her eyes widen the tiniest bit. "Your hair is really soft.
" She continues working her fingers through my overgrown mop. "How do you get it so silky?"
I'm fighting to keep my eyes open. It feels so good to have her touch me like this. "I wash it with body wash."
Her laugh is soft, but it still manages to lighten my mood. "I figured you were a pretty low maintenance sort of guy."
She keeps petting me, so my mouth just keeps rambling. "It probably needs a cut. I might do that tomorrow."
"You cut your own hair?" Mariah winces. "I probably should've guessed that." Her gentle touch continues, making me relax more and more with each tickling pass. "I could help, if you want."
Just thinking about Mariah running her hands through my hair again has my body reacting in all sorts of inconvenient ways.
Especially since she’d be doing it in the privacy of my own home.
My family wouldn't be a few rooms away being loud and obnoxious. We wouldn’t be hidden in a closet, stealing a few seconds alone.
There would be nothing to stop me from touching her back.
Apparently there's nothing to stop me now, either. I don't even notice my hands have moved until they’re resting on her hips, gripping the soft curve of her flesh. I'm not sure if I'm trying to push her away or get her closer, but I know which option I accomplish.
It's so easy to pull her in. To bring her front flush to mine. It's even easier to lean into her ear and admit, "I would let you shave my head if it meant you touched me like this again."
Mariah’s hands stay laced in my hair as she leans into me. “I like touching you.”
The admission is soft. Small. But it hits me like a storm. Rumbles through me with the force of thunder and strikes at my skin like lightning.
“You can touch me whenever you want.” My admission isn’t soft. It’s not small. It’s desperate. Almost pleading.
I was starving for so much more than food when Mariah walked into my house.
I just refused to admit it. But little by little, she’s pulled back the layers I wrapped around who I am, thinking I could change.
I thought I had. Believed I’d successfully gone from the man I once was to who I had to be to survive.
I was wrong.
Very, very wrong.
Mariah tips her head back, the warmth of her eyes meeting mine as she says the worst words that could possibly come out of her mouth. “I also like when you touch me.”
So much happens at once that I can’t process my own thoughts or actions. Can’t rein them in. Can’t stop what I’m starting to believe is inevitable. No matter how much I know it shouldn’t be.
When what I’ve done finally registers, one hand is in her hair, cradling the curve of her head. Her soft body is pulled as close as I can get it.
And my mouth is sealed over hers.
Last time I came to my senses quickly. Managed to reel myself in before things got out of control. Was saved from myself when my mother interrupted.
That doesn’t happen this time.
This time I have her backed up against the door, my tongue slicking between her lips, the solid line of my painfully hard dick doing nothing to hide the way I want her.
One of the ways I want her.
Mariah makes me greedy. Makes me want all the things I swore off to save myself the pain of a loss I know I won’t survive again.
Might not have survived the first time depending on who you ask.
But she needs me. I know how to take care of her. How to make sure she stays safe. I can give her all the things the asshole who abandoned her wouldn’t.
And I want to. I want…
So fucking much.
My lips break from hers because I need air, but I can’t give up the taste of her, so I move along the line of her jaw, breathing in the scent of her. Savoring the feel of her skin against my tongue. Memorizing the—
“What the fuck?” Trevor’s muffled yell has me freezing in place. “Titus.”
My eyes lift to the door, air sawing through my lungs as a growl of frustration reverberates in my chest.
Guess my brothers aren’t the only feral dogs in the house.
I’m going to kick his ass for interrupting the best moment I’ve had in years. I’m going to freeze his accounts and reprogram all his devices. I’m going to—
“Someone’s trying to hack into our database.”
“Fuck.” I pull myself away from Mariah, raking a hand through the hair I’m sure looks exactly like her fingers were just in it, as I try to get myself together.
Because apparently, I’m going to work.