Mariah stares at me for a minute, eyes shimmering. Then without warning she leans forward, bringing her mouth to mine in a kiss that is nothing like the chaste versions I've offered her the past few days.
This kiss is consuming.
Completing.
And like it has so often with her, it rolls out of control, dragging me into a place I can’t fight my way out of.
Wouldn’t if I could.
Before I fully know what I’m doing, I’ve peeled away the stretchy pants she’s been wearing lately, along with the panties she had on beneath them. When she’s bare from the waist down, I drag her closer. Close enough I can hook her knees over my shoulders and lower my head between her thighs to satisfy the need I’ve been ignoring for days.
She tastes so fucking good, I growl in satisfaction as I slick my tongue up the length of her seam. Tasting. Flicking with a steady pace. Pushing her higher with each curl of my tongue against the hard nub of her clit. I don’t tease her. Don’t take it slow or careful. I don’t take my time. Not today. Today she needs to learn a few things about me.
That I’m the one she should come to. Come for.
That I will give her anything she wants. Everything she needs.
That I possess the power, means, and motivation to do it.
Because I have a point to prove. To her.
And to myself.
21
Mariah
Titus leads me into his parents’ house exactly like he did a week ago. One hand on my back, his big body staying close to mine.
But everything else about tonight feels very different.
Because that wiggle of hope that worms its way into my life so often has finally managed to tunnel through. And it’s all because of the man carefully removing my coat.
My gaze levels on Titus’s face as he undoes the buttons down my front. “Thank you.”
His green eyes flick to mine, holding a second. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“Yes, I do.” I shiver a little as he slips the wool free, his hands sliding down my arms in a touch that warms way too many parts of me. I cannot go into this night thinking about what happened just a few hours ago on top of the desk in Titus’s office. I’ll stroke out before dessert.
And I made a really good dessert this week.
Titus circles behind me in the coat room, hanging his and mine side-by-side before stepping close, his front barely brushing my back.
“No.” Titus’s voice is low, his breath warm as it caresses my ear. “You don’t.”
Shit. Now I’m thinking of what happened the last time we were in this closet. The way he backed me up against the door and?—
“There you two are.” Deidre beams at us as she comes to a stop in the open doorway. “I was starting to get worried.”
I’m carrying a lot of guilt right now concerning Deidre, and hearing she was worried only ads to the pile. “Sorry we’re late.”
I should have thought up an excuse before now. I sure as heck can’t tell her I was barfing in the toilet when we were supposed to leave, because Deidre still doesn’t know I’m pregnant.
Or that her son is renovating his house for me and my baby.
Or that her son and I have been…
Whatever the hell we’ve been doing.
