Chapter 29
Mariah
Iwake up to the tight band of Titus’s arm around my waist.
And the hard press of his dick against my ass.
My body’s reaction is swift and strong, leaving my thighs clenched and my nipples pulling tight against the soft cotton of my pajama top. I should not be this horny so early in the morning. It’s not a great way to start the day—especially since I know I won’t be getting what I really want.
“Good morning.” The deep rumble of Titus’s voice in my ear only makes the throb pulsing through me worse, and I nearly whimper in frustration.
Whimper. Freaking ridiculous.
I’ve never wanted a man the way I want him, and it’s starting to wear on me. I’d like to blame it on pregnancy hormones. That would definitely be safer. But I know the real reason I’m so desperate for him is because I like him so freaking much.
Probably more than like him.
I could dwell on that little development, but it would likely send me into a tailspin. It’s way easier to focus on the unfulfilled desire making me hot and aggravated and needy and grumpy. Honestly, I don’t mind a little bit of edging, but this has gotten really out of hand.
“Morning.” I snuggle closer to him, wiggling my ass right against where his cock juts against it. It’s the same not-so-subtle invitation I’ve offered every morning for the past few weeks.
And just like every morning for the past few weeks, Titus sucks in a sharp breath, his body going still as I rub against him.
I know he wants me the same way I want him.
Why won’t he just take me? Short of a neon sign pointing at my vagina, I’m not sure how much clearer I can make it that I want him in there.
Titus presses his face into my hair, breathing deep. “How did you sleep?”
He is so sweet, and I love that. I love the way he holds me close and cuddles me in the morning. I love that he worries about the rest I got and makes me tea while I shower. Titus is the best man I’ve ever known, and it only makes me want him more.
It also makes me feel bad for how annoyed I am.
“Good. What about you?” I wiggle a little more pointedly, making the movements less side to side and more up and down. A little closer in approximation to the act I am not so subtly encouraging him to partake in.
Titus makes a choked sound. Something that almost starts like a groan but abruptly cuts off. Before I can ask what’s wrong, he’s rolling away from me, putting distance between us.
Again.
And maybe I didn’t sleep as well as I claimed, because it sends me spiraling. Flinging back the covers, I rush out of the room, bare feet racing across the hardwood as Titus calls my name.
There has to be something wrong with me.
Some reason he doesn’t want to have sex with me.
Maybe it’s Peanut. I thought Titus was okay with my situation, but being with a woman pregnant by another man is a lot to swallow.
Maybe he’s fine cuddling with me and getting each other off, but any more than that is too intimate.
My skin is hot, face on fire as I run downstairs, trying to put as much distance between us as I can. I’m so fucking stupid. So fucking incapable of seeing anything I don’t want to see.
And all I wanted to see was Titus Bradshaw falling for me.
“Mariah.” His voice carries down the stairs, making me move faster.
I reach the main floor and stall out, because where in the hell do I go now? I’m barefoot, so it’s not like I can run out the front door. It’s so cold my skin will stick to the concrete. I’m not going to lock myself in the bathroom. Then I’ll be trapped.
I can only think of one option, and even it’s not a great one. But it’s all I’ve got.
I go for the garage, flinging open the door and hustling out into the chilly air. Aiming for the side-by-side, I curl my toes against the chilly epoxy beneath my feet.
“Mariah.” This time Titus’s voice is sharp enough to make me jump.
And close enough to make me turn.
He’s standing in the open doorway, watching me with an unreadable expression, chest heaving with each breath he takes.
I should have known I couldn’t outrun the guy who spends an hour on the treadmill each night. Yet another foolish mistake to add to my tally.
I adjust my trajectory, hoping to hide my true motives for being in the garage by going to my SUV.
I open the door, reaching in to grab the only thing that might spare me the humiliation of admitting I was about to take off in the UTV wearing nothing but my pajamas.
Because in addition to being stupid, I must also still think running from the problems my stupidity causes is the best solution.
Popping the lid off my car ChapStick, I smear it across my lips as I bump the door closed with one hip and stride past Titus back into the house.
Not being able to simply leave when things get tricky has put me in unfamiliar territory, and I’m not sure what to do next. But I need to stay busy—distracted from how I feel—or I’ll say something I’ll regret, so I go to the kitchen and fill the kettle to make myself some tea.
Titus follows right behind me, his green eyes sticking to me like glue. I switch the kettle on and go for the fridge, but Titus steps right in my way, his gaze narrowed as it takes me in.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I lift my chin, plastering on the smile I’ve perfected over the years. “I’m fine.”
His left brow angles. “That’s your fake smile.”
My mouth opens to argue, but my words stall out and all I manage is to sputter, “Fake smile?”
Titus nods slowly. “You have a real smile and you have a fake smile.” He points at my face. “That was the fake one.” Stepping closer, he lowers his voice, tone gentling. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” It’s such an automatic response I don’t even have to consciously think about saying it. It’s always just been easier to be fine. To deal with my upsets on my own and find a way to move forward.
I expect Titus to take me at my word. Everyone else always has. My mother was too focused on her own unhappiness to care about mine. My father certainly never gave a shit. Friends and boyfriends were more of the same. To the point I learned I was the only person my feelings mattered to.
But Titus doesn’t back down. He comes closer, the pointedness of his gaze keeping me in place as he cages me in, his hands resting against the counter at each side of my hips. “That lie might work on other people, but it won’t work on me.”
Well…
Shit.
I feel a little attacked. Put on the spot and pushed into an uncomfortable position by his unwillingness to be like everyone else and let me suffer in silence.
I also feel exposed. Vulnerable.
Afraid.
Because if Titus sees the uglier parts of me—the ones that aren’t easy and agreeable—Peanut will be the least of the reasons he doesn’t want me like I want him.
I spin away so he can’t see my face, still trying to escape even though there’s nowhere I can really go. I just need a minute to get it together. Then I can convince him everything is—
“Talk to me.” Titus’s voice is low in my ear as he inches closer, the warmth of his body heating my back. “Tell me what I did to upset you.”
He’s so calm. So steady. So…
Fucking clueless.
And my emotions must be just as under control as my hormones, because I snap.
“I can’t do this anymore.” I’m relieved at how pissed I am, because I don’t sound hurt or humiliated like I will when all the dust settles.
Titus goes very still behind me, his large frame freezing against mine. “Do what?”
“This.” I wave one hand around, motioning between us, grateful I’m facing away from him because somehow it makes this easier. “Whatever in the hell it is. I can’t do it.”
Titus still doesn’t move. I can’t even tell if he’s breathing at this point. “What do you mean?”
Is he being purposely obtuse? Willfully oblivious?
It makes a little of the fight bleed out of me because I thought he was so different, but maybe he’s not. “I mean I don’t want to play this game anymore. Pretending we’re something you don’t actually want to be.”
Titus finally pulls in a deep breath, his exhale brushing against my bare neck. “And what is it you think I don’t want us to be?”
I take a shuddering breath before admitting the truth I’m so good at ignoring. “Anything.”
“Wrong.” Titus’s response is immediate and sharp. “I want us to be everything, Mariah.”
I shake my head, refusing to let myself wander off the path of reality. “No. If you did, you’d…”
When I don’t finish, Titus prompts, “I’d what?”
I guess I’m in the shit now, so I might as well lay it all out. “You’d fuck me.”
Titus makes a rumbling sound, like he’s considering my accusation. “Fucking comes in many different forms. If I remember correctly, we’ve done all but one of them.”
The low gravel of his voice in my ear has my body reacting in spite of the situation. “But why haven’t we done that one?”
I don’t really want to hear it, but I need to. I need a reality check. I don’t know if there’s still time to salvage this whole thing, but even if there’s not, I clearly can’t acknowledge the truth on my own.
And without that acknowledgement, I know what will happen. I’ll let myself fall completely in love with Titus. I’ll plan our future together. I’ll let myself think I’ve finally found what I’ve longed for my whole life.
Someone who wants me.
“We haven’t done that one thing because I’ve already pushed you in ways I shouldn’t have, and it was wrong of me.
” Titus breathes deep against my skin, one hand leaving the counter to grip my hip.
“I’ve initiated interactions I should have let you control.
” His lips brush my skin as he shakes his head.
“I had to draw the line somewhere and give you the power you should have had all along.”
I try to follow along, but the feel of him is so distracting. It’s probably how I ended up in this position to start with. “The power to… what?”