Mariah’s brows lift. “Do you want to eat only cake for breakfast?”
I don’t know how the fuck it happens, but my eyes lower all on their own. Along with my voice as I say, “No. I don’t want to only eat cake for breakfast.”
It’s been so long since I’ve wanted someone the way I want her, and I don’t know how to unpack all that means. All it entails.
And as much as I’ve been trying to avoid it, I think I’m going to have to figure it out. Because my plan of ignoring her—and my reactions to her—doesn’t seem to be going very well. Not considering I just jacked off a few feet from where she slept and am now making very thinly veiled offers to lick her to completion.
Definitely not winning any awards for my professionalism as an employer.
Mariah’s full lips flatten as she presses them together, the silence that stretches between us growing tighter and tighter with each passing second. At some point, one of us is going to snap. And I’m pretty confident it’s going to be me.
Mariah’s plush lips part as she takes a shaky breath, and I want to kick my own ass for being so fucking stupid. For putting her in what is probably one hell of an uncomfortable position. “Mariah, I?—”
“You can have whatever you want for breakfast.” The words tumble from her mouth.
And they quash my good intentions in the blink of an eye.
“Whatever I want?” I’m already moving toward her. Hungry in a way I’ve never been.
Mariah nods, her head barely bobbing. “Yes.”
I stop right in front of her, the tuck of the towel at my waist barely brushing the front of her pajama top. “What if I want you?” I let my fingers tease across the curve of one hip. Not grabbing—not yet, not until I know she genuinely wants my touch—as I trace a path down the outside of one thigh. “Back on my bed, your pretty thighs squeezing my head while you come against my tongue.”
Holy hell. Did I really just say that? Someone needs to save her from me. From all the things I want to do to her.
I thought I could simply take care of her. Be someone she could rely on while I tried to heal a little of the pain I continue to carry. That I could help Mariah and myself at the same time. But I’m pretty sure offers like the one I’m making don’t fall into the ‘helpful’ category. If anything?—
“Okay.”
My racing thoughts stutter to a stop. “Okay?”
Mariah gives me another barely perceptible nod. “You can have that.”
17
Mariah
Ithink I broke Titus.
He’s just staring at me. Completely still. Completely silent. As focused on where I stand as he was on his computer last night. He’s looking at me like nothing else exists. Like nothing else matters.
No one’s ever looked at me like that. Not any of the guys I’ve dated. Not my dad. Not even my mom.
I’ve never been the most important thing to someone. It didn’t matter how hard I worked. How big I smiled. How happy I acted. I couldn’t find a way to hold anyone’s attention. I was never…
Enough.
I swallow hard, fighting for air in a moment I’ve been chasing my whole life.
When Titus finally begins slowly walking my way, oxygen becomes even less available as my body forgets how to function under the weight of his gaze. I don’t know why, but I start to back up. It’s probably a prey response. Because right now, I feel like I’m being hunted by a predator who is after only one thing.
Me.
It’s exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Just likeso much else with Titus is. I know most of the decisions I’ve made involving him haven’t exactly been the best, but this one for sure takes the cake.
When the backs of my legs hit the bed, I’m moving fast enough I tip back, dropping right to the mattress I slept on last night. And judging by the big warm spot beside me when I woke up, I’m pretty sure I didn’t sleep on it alone.
My back has barely touched the mattress before Titus is over me. His big body blocks out the light peeking around the edges of his blinds as he hooks one arm behind my back, using the hold to drag me up until my head is on the pillows. Once I’m in place, he pushes up to his knees, the green of his eyes fixed to my face as his hands slide up my thighs. Strong fingers hook in the elastic waist of my favorite flannel pajama pants, skimming them down my legs. Even once my lower half is naked, Titus’s eyes don’t leave mine.
