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Chapter Sixteen
Ithappensina blink. Titus's fist makes contact with Night's cheek, and down he goes.
I grab Titus's arm and pull him away as he tries to step closer to Night, who's on the ground, his eyes shut. I think he knocked him out.
The blonde runs over, kneeling next to him. "What the hell, man?"
"Don't worry, I saved you the heartache. He would have ghosted you the moment he got his dick wet."
Her lip curls up in disgust. She stands, backing away from us, then wraps her arms around her stomach and leaves.
Titus takes a deep breath, his chest growing wide, then he turns to me.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hit him."
I shrug my shoulders. "He kinda deserved it, if I'm being honest."
A low chuckle passes his lips. I take his hand––the one he used to hit that asshole––and bring it to my lips, placing a soft kiss on his knuckles.
"Thank you."
"You don't need to thank me." He pulls my hand towards him. His other hand grabs my hip, pulling the rest of me with it. "But I'll take a kiss."
I rise to my toes and kiss him. I lean into him. I want to feel his body against mine, this gentleman who just stood up for me.
What was that about writing off men?
Shut up, subconscious.
"Can we leave?" I ask him as I break away from the kiss.
"Absolutely."
Thirty minutes later, we are back at my house. There’s a bowl of popcorn between us and Happy Gilmore on the T.V.
Halfway through the movie, I notice Titus's head bob a little, and his eyes are shut. I move the popcorn bowl to the coffee table. The sound of the metal on the wood wakes him.
"Oh shit, was I sleeping?" He runs his hand through his hair.
"Just a little." I smile.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Do you want to stretch out? I can sit in the rocking chair."
"I have a better idea. Sit back."
I push myself back into the cushions and Titus shifts himself, his legs going down the length of the couch and his head resting on my thighs. He looks up at me.
"This okay?"
I nod my head, then continue to watch the movie. A few minutes later I feel his hand travel up the front of my leg to my knee.
Absolutely nothing sexy about it, but heat rises from where his hand is to my core, and it takes everything in me not wiggle just the slightest or press my thighs together.
I've been keeping my hands at my sides, not knowing if it would be okay, or if I should touch him, but I want to. I really want to.
I bring my hands up slowly and gently rest one on his shoulder, the other on his head. But it's not long before they start exploring. Can shoulders be sexy? I run my fingertips down his arm and back to his shoulder a few times before I see goose bumps cross his skin.
I run my ringers through his hair, and he pushes his head into the movement. The next time his hand comes up my leg, it goes to the inside of my knee and the smallest bit up my thigh.
"Baby girl, if you keep that up, we won't be finishing the movie."
I'm not sure what comes over me, but I fist his hair in my hand then pull his head towards me, turning it so I can see him.
"I knew there was a little brat inside you somewhere," he says.
