CHAPTER 15 #2
We talk about nothing as we eat. It’s easy in a way I’m not used to experiencing with people. Jessi is an exception and always easy to talk to. And I can always find something to chat about with coworkers, but that’s a whole thing and there’s always a line of professionalism I’m very much aware of.
I can’t help but wonder where this man has been. The food is great. His home is really nice. He only teased me a little about my craft obsession, but it didn’t make me feel like I should be ashamed of my proclivities when it comes to all things crafty.
When we’re both done, I’m unable to ignore my curiosity any longer and blurt out, “How about that tour?”
Titus sighs and holds out his hand for me. When I slide mine into his, he helps me off the stool and then shows me everything on the first floor he told me about. The room he mentioned could be used for my crafting is perfect. I’m trying not to think about it too much.
He leads me upstairs and shows me the guest rooms and the bathroom they share before heading toward the primary bedroom. Titus seems to be getting more nervous with every step. It doesn’t make much sense.
“Why are you acting like I’m going to swing open the door to find a St. Andrew’s Cross as the focal point of the room before falling to the floor while clutching my pearls?” The question tumbles out of me because I just can’t help myself and he’s looking a little like he’s headed to the gallows.
“I promise you won’t find a St. Andrew’s Cross behind the door,” he assures me while grabbing the door handle. Then his eyes narrow and I just know he’s going to say some alpha shit. “How do you even know what that is?”
I scoff and shake my head. “I hope all you men around here don’t tease Opal about her reading choices and our mini, non-official book club.”
His eyes widen and I giggle. It’s true though. He has no idea.
“Maybe I should join,” he grumbles before taking a deep breath and opening the door. He makes a motion for me to go in first. “Take a look.”
I study his face, but I don’t find any answers there. The only thing I can do is walk into his room. The moment I do, I freeze. Titus presses his chest against my back.
He lowers his face until his lips are skimming my earlobe. “Now you can see why I was a little wary, Teach. What do you think? Are you going to run?” His voice drops, the rumble of it reverberating through my bones, “Will you make me chase you?”
“I don’t,” I start to say and then shrug because I have no idea how to even finish that sentence.
“Understand?” Titus offers the word and I nod, wordlessly.
Above the massive bed is a huge print of one of my photographs.
It’s a still of one of the side roads, one you have to live here to know.
One you find when you’re looking for a path or trying to figure out which way to go; a place you find when you’re lost. It’s almost been swallowed by nature, but it’s still there and will stay there with enough traffic.
On the opposite wall there are two more, smaller, prints hanging.
“You have my photos hanging in your bedroom,” the words are shaky like I’m unsure if they’re the right ones.
But they are.
“Yes.”
I take a few more steps into the room, my head swinging back and forth between the two walls before choking out, “Explain, please. Why do you have three of my photos in your room? Like, break it down as if I’m a child because my brain is doing that record scratch thing right now and I’m struggling. ”
Titus chuckles softly while stepping around me and facing me. His large hands come down on my shoulders to hold me in place and when I look up at him, he’s all I can see.
But I’m still very much aware of the three in this man’s bedroom that I took.
Three.
And one is huge.
“I love your work, Ezra,” his words are soft and with every one of them my heart starts to slow down a little. “I saw a photo you gave Opal and I did a little digging.”
There’s no nervousness about him now, as if my reaction was enough to make it disappear. It’s for the best because it’s my turn to freak out a little.
“You did a little digging?”
He just grins down at me, his hands sliding down my arms and making me shudder at his touch. “You should consider me your first super fan,” he teases me.
“Super fan?” The question comes out a little dazed.
After making a humming sound he leans down, his mouth hovering over mine. “Did I mention that I love your work? It’s amazing, Teach. I have a feeling you don’t even know how much.”
The conviction in his words undoes me.
My arms wrap around his neck as I press my lips to his. A feeling, a need, wells up inside of me. I’ve felt more desire than is probably healthy since I crash landed in this man’s life. But this feeling is different.
Deeper.
More.
He loves my work.
“Please,” I whisper against his lips, “Titus. I need you.”
He growls, the sound comes from deep in his chest and makes all the hair on my arms stand on end. His hands are quick as he undresses me.
There’s nothing careful about the way he’s touching me. He moves me; I move. He tugs; I give way.
And then I’m naked and in his arms.
“Too many clothes,” I pout.
I reach for him, but my hands are steady. The need is too much. This feeling threatens to drown me.
But then he’s laying me out on his bed, and everything focuses. To him. All to him.
My hands find his shoulders and my nails dig in. Breathlessly I admit, “I have to say it’s kind of a turn on knowing you’ve been sleeping under my photo.”
“Oh yeah?” His lips curl up into a devilish smile that has me gushing for him.
I wrap my legs around his hips and grind up against him. I make a humming sound while nodding. “Yes,” the word hisses from my lips. “Now I need to feel you deep inside me. You don’t want me to keep aching, do you?”
The question is a tease, and his eyes darken while losing any softness. He doesn’t look away from me as he reaches into the bedside table and grabs a condom. I snatch it from him and the way his eyes light up tell me he’s very interested in having my hands on his cock.
After tearing the package open, I reach between us, my knuckles dragging against the ridges of his abs. I love the way they tighten with the contact. I grip the base of his length, and he lets out a low groan filled with pleasure.
When I slide the condom down his shaft, he shudders. “You better guide me home,” he rasps.
The moment the crown of his cock meets my entrance, he thrusts forward until he’s buried deep inside me. I moan loudly, my limbs wrapping around him.
As he starts to move, I move with him, meeting him, urging him for more. The rhythm we find is relentless with an edge of desperation deeper than attraction.
He’s been sleeping under my photos. He chose this room, this place, for my art. His inner sanctum.
I might not survive this man, but I can’t deny that I’ve already fallen for him.
His mouth trails down my neck and chest until he can suck one of my nipples into his mouth. My back arches and I press my body into his.
“More,” I pant out the word, “Prez.”
“Fuck, Teach,” he grunts as he starts to pound into me.
His mouth slams down on mine, the kiss is feral. My eyes roll back in my head, a glimpse of my photo above us and upside down.
“Give it to me,” he demands. “Your pleasure is mine.”
The way his words wash over me pushes me closer to the edge. He slams into me again and rotates his hips just right. My body tightens around his length while my thighs squeeze him.
“That’s it,” his words feel like praise and I soak them up. “Fuck,” he grits out through his teeth.
He pushes balls deep inside of me and I feel the warmth of him filling the condom while he lets out a moan. My toes curl as I cling to him, my walls milking him.
“Always so fucking good,” he whispers against my neck after he buries his face there.
I giggle and breathe out, “Always. But I don’t want to speak too highly of you and give you too big a head.”
With a huffed-out breath, he kisses my skin and then rolls us. His hands slide down my back, and my body relaxes over his.
As the sweat cools on our skin and our breathing returns to normal, I can’t help but feel like I’m right where I’m supposed to be.