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“You can’t get in bed with me!” she argues and again she’s shrieking. I open my eyes to look at her, all the while trying to ignore how good she looks with her hair rumpled from lying on the couch, her tank top molded to her body and giving me hints of cleavage and holding her tits like a fucking second skin.
“But I am. Now can you crank it down a few hundred notches and let’s go to sleep.”
“I… But you said you were giving me the bed and going to the couch.”
“I didn’t say that. You assumed that. And you know what they say about assuming.”
“Then I’ll go back to the sofa,” she argues.
“And then you’ll run away in the middle of the night. Been there, wife. Not doing it again.”
“Oh, come on. I told you I’ll stay until you get the papers from your lawyer.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“I don’t like you.”
“I could remind you of exactly what you did like about me,” I tell her, my voice a dare I hope she takes me up on.
“In your dreams, Big Daddy,” she mumbles. “I’ll just go in—”
I reach out and grab her hand and pull her to me. She falls against my chest, leaving our faces a mere inch away from one another.
“I already told you, I don’t trust you. You’ll stay in this bed so I know where you are.”
“You can’t be serious. Did you forget that I left our hotel room while you were next to me in Vegas?”
“I’m glad you brought that up. I thought of that,” I tell her and I have a hard time keeping the smile off my face.
“You did?” she asks and the worry in her tone lets me know I didn’t succeed in hiding my smile at all. Oh, well. I keep my hand around her wrist, not letting her go and lean over to the nightstand to open the drawer. While Faith was showering earlier, I hid my little surprise there. I feel around in the drawer and when my fingers wrap around the cool metal I loop a finger in it and pull it out. I flop over to my back and grin at a Faith whose eyes have gone large and round in shock and maybe a little worry.
She should be worried.
I dangle a pair of handcuffs, letting them swing back and forth.
“I brought you a little gift since I know how much you like games in the bedroom.”
“No. No way in hell, Titan. You will not—” Before she can finish the sentence I’ve closed the loop of the handcuff around her wrist—letting it replace my hand, “—I can’t believe you did that,” she cries.
“Believe it, sweet cheeks,” I laugh, connecting the other cuff to my wrist. I hold back another laugh when she beats her hand against my chest. It’s not easy though. For some reason, right now I’m happier than I’ve been… since the night I got married.
Shit.
seventeen
faith
I come awake slowly, feeling warm and heated all the way to my bones. The mattress beneath me is just as warm… toasty even. It must have some kind of heated mattress pad on it. I don’t remember that from last night, but this morning I’m thankful. Plus, it’s so soft. I’ll say one thing about my soon to be ex-husband, he sure has great taste in hotel rooms. I stretch, knowing there’s no way I’m going to go back to sleep—despite the warmth.
“Sweetheart, you keep wiggling like that and we’re going to have a repeat performance of our wedding night.”
I freeze, locking my body into place as all the memories of last night slam into my head. I ignore Titan’s voice, the vibration, the deep timbre and gruffness of it that makes wetness ease between my thighs. He might be sexy, but he’s an asshole.
I’m definitely awake now, however, and as awareness hits me, I realize that I’m lying on Titan, not the mattress. I know that because when I look down it’s into the whiskey-colored depths of Titan’s eyes and they’re heated. It’s his cock which is rock hard, pushing against my center—at exactly the right spot.
Houston… I think we have a problem.
“You don’t have any clothes on,” I whisper, still kind of drowning in his eyes and the way they sparkle.
“Nice of you to notice.”
“Couldn’t help but notice, since little Titan is poking me.”
“Maybe you need reminded that there’s nothing little about my cock,” he says. I watch as his lips slide into an easy grin, those thick beautiful lips stretching little by little, and as the smile forms his eyes seem to sparkle even more. I feel nervous flutters in my stomach. The smile has that much of an effect.
“I don’t think that would be wise,” I tell him, but inside I hate myself for not saying yes. I want him. I want to relive what we did together. I’ve thought about it nonstop since I left Vegas. A part of me—a very big part—wants to throw caution to the wind and agree. Titan moves his hand to reach up and push some of my hair out of my face. The simple gesture is sweet in a way that makes that nervous flutter in my stomach deepen, but it also causes the handcuff to rattle against my wrist—reminding me of why I can’t give in to my body’s demands where Titan Marsh is concerned.
