Titus let the moment hang, then turned and walked toward the massive bathroom off the master bedroom. If Viper wanted answers, he’d have to come get them.
Viper followed, footsteps steady behind him.
Titus turned the shower on full, water roaring against the tile. Steam climbed fast, curling through the air. He shrugged out of his dress shirt, stepped out of his slacks and underwear, and moved under the spray. The shock hit first—heat biting into cold skin, grounding him.
For a second, it almost worked.
Almost.
Because even through the noise, he felt Viper’s presence—solid, unmoving, watching.
Could’ve blamed it on need, but that wasn’t the whole truth.
He wanted Viper—wanted him in a way that pissed him off and pulled him under in the same breath.
He braced his hands against the wall, water running down his spine, and tried to breathe past the chaos still rolling through him. But every inhale came edged with memory—the fight, the kiss, the way Viper hadn’t backed off for a single second.
“Gonna invite me in, sunshine? Or you just want an audience?”
Titus yanked open the shower door.
The mirrors fogged with the growing steam, hiding the view from behind, but the front was more than enough—pure, mouth-watering trouble.
Viper stood naked—every inch of him cut, controlled, and fucking fine. Military ink tracked over muscle in a way that shouldn’t have been sexy but absolutely was.
A pale scar cut along his ribs—Tatum’s blade, no question. It twisted something low in his gut. Fuck, how he wished he could outrun his past—his family, the whole goddamn mess of it. The words jammed in his throat; he couldn’t have spoken if he tried.
There wasn’t a chance in hell he could hide the reaction hitting him, so he didn’t bother turning away.
Without a word, he caught Viper’s wrist and pulled him under the spray.
The heat slammed into him again—water, steam, Viper. It hit too fast, too close, tightening everything inside him. He reached for the bar of soap on instinct, needing something solid in his hand just to keep from closing the distance harder than he meant to—and finally found his voice.
“Who you calling sunshine, Cupcake?”
Viper’s chuckle rumbled low, echoing off tile, and then fingers slid into his hair and pulled him in—hard, sure, no hesitation.
Viper’s arms closed around him—strong, unrelenting. His breath kicked hard, stance widening on instinct.
Fingers found the back of Viper’s head, sliding into thick, rich hair. Viper’s hips bucked against him.
Fuck, he needed to be closer.
He turned Viper around and crowded up behind him, reaching for the bar of soap without breaking the moment, dragging his mouth over Viper’s shoulder, breath hot against skin. One slick hand slid down to wrap around Viper’s thick, hard cock, and Viper hissed—his ass grinding back, pressing against Titus’s own hard length.
He took Viper’s mouth—deep, hot, hungry. Viper moaned into him, and something raw and unnamed twisted low in his gut.
Water cascaded between them, hot enough to sting. Soap frothed under his hands, sliding over the hard planes of Viper’s chest, catching on muscle before gliding down his stomach. Heat, slickness, the give of skin over power—every stroke left a trail he could feel in his own breath, tightening everything inside him. Viper shuddered under his touch, a sound low in his throat.
Somewhere in the rush, the fight drained out of him. What replaced it wasn’t weakness—it was something that could wreck him.
Want. Not just the body pressed against his, but the man behind it.
He was all wrong for Viper—too much history, too much damage—but right then, none of that mattered.
So, he deepened the kiss, turning it raw and hungry. His tongue swept into Viper’s mouth before he caught the man’s lip between his teeth and bit.
Viper groaned, and Titus drew back just enough to breathe. “What you do to me.”
