CHAPTER 11
EZRA
The couch in Titus’ office is dangerously comfortable. I could easily fall asleep here, but my book is heating up, and it makes me think about how it felt to be filled by my biker. It wasn’t that long ago, and I’ve never been someone driven by sexual need.
But everything is different with Titus. I want him all the time.
The phantom press of his fingers against my skin haunts me. It reminds me. It tantalizes me and begs me to stand up and walk over to where he’s sitting at his desk. But I shouldn’t interrupt him while he’s working.
While trying to focus and read, my mind drifts back to a few hours ago when Titus suddenly looked up and watched me curiously. I tried to ignore him. It was impossible.
When I finally looked his way, he rasped, “Hungry?”
I was instantly turned on and a little suspicious which had me challenging him, “What did you have in mind?”
One side of his mouth tipped up in a smirk, like he knew the naughty places my mind went first. He certainly wouldn’t have been wrong. Because he asked if I was hungry and I thought about sliding his cock into my mouth and sucking until his knees buckled.
“We can see what there is to find in the fridge. Opal sets one up for us that’s always filled with food we can use at any time. It is not to be confused with the fridges holding food she’s planned to use for specific meals.”
“I would not want to confuse those two,” I teased him with a grimace.
“Oh, it’s happened,” he told me with a chuckle, “and it wasn’t pretty.”
“I imagine not.”
He stood, his movements fluid while not wasting any energy. Economic with a mesmerizing grace. When he offered me his hand, I slipped mine into it without even thinking about it. My phone rang right then and I saw it was my dad calling again.
I left my ringing phone behind as Titus led me out of his office and to the clubhouse kitchen. It was empty, but I knew it wouldn’t have mattered if it was filled. There was a certain determined set to his jaw that told me nothing was going to stop him from feeding me.
Watching him make a sandwich felt like witnessing him put together a strategic attack. He lined everything up, checking the fridge and then acquiring everything needed to build the sandwich and then all the tools required. It was kind of adorable watching him.
He was quick, but thorough, making sure the mayonnaise went all the way to the edges of the bread and when he picked up the mustard he quirked an eyebrow at me in question. All I could do was swallow hard and nod while knowing the man wasn’t trying to turn me on while making me lunch.
The smirk on his face told me he knew exactly what he was doing.
When he was done, he cleaned everything up, grabbed some chips for both of us after asking for my preference and asked me to grab drinks. I still haven’t figured out why that warmed my heart.
As we sat at a table and ate, I bumped my shoulder against his, and murmured, “Thank you. This is really good.”
“No problem, Teach,” he winked at me before a thoughtful look crossed his face. “Do you love or hate black and white movies?”
I almost choked on my bite of sandwich, not at all expecting that question. After taking a drink and Titus shooting me a sheepish look filled with apology, my eyes were still watering, but I wasn’t concerned about needing the Heimlick.
“Sorry,” my voice was scratchy, “I did not expect you to ask me that.” I shook my head ruefully because I could tell he still wanted the answer.
“I don’t exclude a movie because it’s black and white.
I’ve enjoyed some I’ve watched and not others, but I feel that way about all movies.
Just because it’s cinema doesn’t mean it’s for me. ”
“Fair,” he lifted one large shoulder.
“Do you have a favorite?” I couldn’t help but ask, wanting to find out more about this man.
“Twelve Angry Men,” he told me while looking almost embarrassed, but it was endearing and he stole another piece of my heart right then and there.
I couldn’t help but grin as I told him, “I’ll happily watch movies with you, Titus.”
Even thinking about it now, I’m smiling. It falls off my face when my phone starts to ring again. Titus looks up with a knowing look on his face. His features freeze when his phone rings.
He takes one look at it, answers, and barks, “Omen.”
I don’t hear whatever is said but Titus’ gaze sharpens as he looks at me and my stomach sinks. It’s like I know.
“Keep him there,” his words are hard and my eyes slide closed.
The last thing I want to do is open them again. Because then he’ll tell me what I already know. My father is here.
Titus’ large hands land on my knees and my eyes snap open. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it isn’t his earnest gray eyes looking at me with concern. My heart flips in my chest.
“Your dad is at the gate,” his voice is low and I can see the regret in his eyes.
“I figured,” I whisper. “I was hoping to push this off a little longer. It’s not going to be pretty,” I try and warn him.
“Seems like he’s bringing the mountain to you in this case,” he sighs.
“I’m sure he’s also expecting to take you out of here.
” Something fierce transforms his features and I sit up a little straighter, mentally grappling for his words while hoping they don’t leave me hollow.
“That is not happening. You’re staying right here. ”
My eyes search his and all I find is resolve.
“Okay,” I breathe.
Titus leads me out of his office and I’m thankful that he does because the only thing I feel capable of doing is putting one foot in front of the other. He’s going to be so angry.
He’s going to yell.
He’s going to try to take me away from here.
I don’t want to go.
My steps falter with the realization of how true the thought is. I don’t want to go. Titus makes me feel safe and wanted. He’s shown me the possibility of a future. It’s a future that felt out of reach only days ago but now is close enough to almost feel wrapped around me.
I don’t want to go.
The feeling solidifies inside of me, hardening and taking shape into something too big to be moved or ignored. I won’t be leaving. I’m a fucking adult and my father can’t force me to do anything.
Even if he is the sheriff.
The sound in the main room of the clubhouse gets softer as we walk through the room and I can’t bring myself to look at anyone. I’m not sure what I would see on their faces and the only thing I can think about is the fact that I’m about to face my dad.
When we step outside, Titus keeps his hand on the small of my back, the weight of his hand and the heat coming off him ground me, allowing me to focus on keeping my feet moving. Without tripping. It takes far more focus than it should.
I look toward the gate to find my dad’s official Sheriff vehicle parked on the other side while the man in question paces like a caged animal. Except I’m the one inside the gate and he’s not.
The moment he sees me, he freezes and looks me over quickly. His eyebrows pull together for a moment before his face goes hard like granite. My heart makes a sluggish thud and then stills. But it doesn’t break.
Maybe it’s because I’ve had years of disappointment to shore me up. I’ve spent my life finding the silver lining when it comes to living with my dad. It’s in those glimmers where I found my dad’s love for me.
I think I spent so long searching for the moments, the things, the lessons, which proved his love that I never asked if it was enough.
I’m not sure it is. The realization has me swallowing hard while straightening my shoulders.
“Ezra Rhea Lyons,” he barks and I stop walking while narrowing my eyes at the man who should have protected me last night instead of blowing me off. “You better get your shit, get in the car, and drive out of that compound right this second.”
I scoff and his eyes widen slightly. But I just can’t find it in me to care about his reaction right now. I’m tired.
“I won’t be doing that, Dad,” my voice is strong and sure.
A man steps out of the small building next to the gate. There is a prospect patch on his cut, the same one Bolt wears, and I can only assume this is Omen. He doesn’t say anything, just stands there while keeping his eyes on my dad.
Titus steps up next to me and crosses his arms across his chest, his feet shoulder width apart like he’s bracing for something. It’s probably not a bad idea.
I can almost see the pressure building in my dad. It’s rising and I only hope that when this is over there will be some sort of relationship to salvage.
It won’t be the same; I already know that. Because he’s let me down in a way that I’m not sure he’s even aware of. Unfortunately, I can’t trust that he will ever understand how his dismissal devastated me.
Dad steps up to the gate and barely stops himself from pressing against the black metalwork. “You need to get out of here,” he hisses. His eyes bore into mine. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”
My spine straightens and my chin rises slightly. It’s a strange feeling being offended on behalf of the club. They’ve been there for me when he wasn’t. They welcomed me even though they didn’t have to.
“I’m not a child,” I grit out the words, my jaw clenching as I try to remember that I owe this man some respect. It’s getting harder by the second. “I’m a grown woman and have been for a long time. I have a job, a home, and bills I pay on my own.”
“That doesn’t mean a damn thing when you’re making stupid decisions, and being anywhere near this fucking club is stupid,” he pauses before adding, “and dangerous.”
A chill runs down my spine, not because of his words. Because of the resolve written all over his face.
“Dad,” I sigh and shake my head as disappointment slams into me. Can he see it on my face? Does he even care?
Nothing softens in his features, and I fear I have my answer.
“Why are you even here? If this gets around, do you know what people are going to say? What they’re going to whisper behind your back?” His voice rises and Titus tenses as my dad almost screams, “Do you know how they’re going to look at me?”