Beneath These Scars (Beneath #4)(19)

“And if he chooses to be a starving artist?” I asked.

“Then he’ll starve. Or he’ll hit it big and appreciate the hell out of his success because it required sacrifice.”

“So, when does the gravy train end for Levi?”

“He’s got three years of college left. I told him I’d cover him until then. If he decides to take longer, he’s going to be on his own dime.”

“You sound like his father, not his brother.”

The muscle ticked more visibly. “Because I’ve been both for over a decade.”

“What happened to your parents?”

“That’s not up for discussion. If you’re done here, I’ll show you a room.” He strode out of the kitchen. And that was apparently how Titan ended a conversation.

I tightened the belt on my robe and followed him. I wasn’t sure where I expected him to take me, but it wasn’t up the curving staircase and into a room that was sage green, gold, and white. It was altogether too fine for the likes of me.

I opened my mouth to protest, but Titan gestured to an open door. “There’s an en suite bathroom. It should be stocked with anything you need. Did you leave your bag downstairs? In the pool room?”

I shook my head. “No bag. Wait, no. I left my purse on a chair in the foyer.”

Titan’s attention held on me. “You didn’t even pack a bag? So, whatever chased you out of that house scared the hell out of you, didn’t it?”

I stilled in my survey of the room. It wasn’t any of his business, and I wouldn’t share. But my skin prickled again at the thought of the glass in the dish rack. “I . . . I just wanted to get out. I don’t need much anyway. I’ll be fine. I’ll change at work when I get there.”

“And what makes you think you’re going to feel safe at your place tomorrow when you go back there and no one has checked it out?”

He had a point, one I hadn’t considered yet because I’d been too busy running, then swimming, then . . . Heat edged out fear at the memory of my cheek pressed to the cool granite countertop as Titan—

I shook it off. Not happening again. Besides, I had more important things to worry about than Lucas Titan.

“I’ll have someone meet me there tomorrow to check it out.”

“Fine,” he said, nodding. “I’ll get your purse.”

He turned on his heel, leaving me in the delicately feminine bedroom, uncomfortably aware that I didn’t belong here, despite the delicious soreness settling between my legs.

Lesson learned from Mama: You could f*ck a rich man, but that didn’t mean you’d ever be welcome in the big house. Better never to set foot inside the door.

But I wasn’t a goddamn mistress. I’d never take that path.

Turning away from the door, I studied the bedroom. White lace hung from the windows, and a sleigh bed carved with roses and lilies dominated much of this side of the room. What looked like an antique divan, side chairs, and table made up a small sitting area near the wide bay window. An armoire matching the sleigh bed sat alongside a vanity table.

The room was incredibly ladylike, and it seemed completely at odds with Titan’s overly masculine nature. It must have been like this when he moved in. I couldn’t imagine him choosing any of this. Or maybe it was the work of an interior decorator?

I had very little time to explore before he reentered the room, my purse in hand. The big teal number looked ridiculous in his grip, and I might have imagined it, but he looked slightly amused as he handed it over.

“Thank you.” I set my bag on the bed and had just shoved my hand inside it when he stepped up behind me.

He bent low, speaking into my ear. “You need anything else, I’m right next door.”

I stilled as he leaned against me, the already growing bulge in his pants pressing against the crack of my ass.

Ignore, Yve. Ignore.

My eyes shot to the closed door on the far wall of the room as something dawned on me. This was the suite designed for the mistress of the house, back when husbands and wives slept in separate rooms and the husband visited the wife at night for his marital relations.

He should have put me in the servants’ quarters.

Titan must have followed my glance to the door, because he added, “It’s locked. From your side. Feel free to join me anytime. I’ll be hard as f*ck, thinking about taking you in the kitchen.”

His raw words held no subtlety, and neither did the hand that gripped my waist and slid around to the front of the robe.

I could have jerked away, but when his palm slipped inside and covered my breast, I wasn’t sure I even remembered how to breathe. I should hate his touch, but slickness gathered between my legs and would have made me a liar.

“Are you wet for me again, Yve? Are you thinking about how good it felt to have my dick stretching your tight little *?”

“I hate you,” I murmured, pressing my ass into his erection and my breast into his palm.

His hand slid lower, fingers splaying out over me. “Fuck. You’re so wet.”

I swallowed back my moan, but couldn’t fight the urge to rock against his hand. My clit was already sensitive, and rubbing against his palm put me right back on the edge within moments. But before I could come, he pulled his hand away and jerked back.

Shameless, I spun around, robe hanging most of the way open. “What the hell, Titan?”