by Jordan Marie
“I don’t like Vegas. I was leaving before I met you and I’ve left it now. What’s more, I’m not going back,” she says. She puts her hands on her hips like she’s daring me to argue. She’s sassy as fuck and damn if I don’t like it.
“Where are you going, then?”
“I’m thinking Arkansas.”
“Arkansas?” I was right the first time; the woman is fucking insane.
“Yeah. Little Rock.”
“Do you know someone in Little Rock?”
“No. I just saw the name on my Atlas and I liked it.” She shrugs like that’s perfectly reasonable.
“Fine. We’ll go back to Vegas and get a divorce and then you can go to Little Rock.”
“I’m not going back to Vegas.”
“We need a divorce,” I remind her, frowning because for some reason I don’t like using that word.
“So I can give you my number and when you get the papers drawn up, you can call me and I’ll tell you where to send them.”
“And you will sign them?”
“Of course I would. It’s not like I want to stay married to you. I hate to break it to you, Big Daddy, but you aren’t the world’s best catch.”
“You should try looking in the mirror.” She frowns at me and I get the strangest notion that I hurt her feelings—which is crazy. “I’ll get my guy in Vegas to fax me the papers you need to sign and bring them by tomorrow,” I decide. That sounds like the simplest plan and really I don’t think it’s healthy for me to be around Faith. I alternate between wanting to kill her or fuck her. “Give me your number and I’ll get out of your hair for the night.”
“Uh… about that,” she says and she’s got that look on her face again. It’s the look I’ve come to know as a warning. A warning she’s about to start spouting bullshit.
“Warning, wife. It’s been a rough few weeks trying to track your ass down. I’ve been on the road nonstop getting to you, and I’ve spent the day with other men being told I don’t have a real dick. I’m not in the mood for more bullshit.”
Her eyes narrow, but then she sighs and shrugs her shoulders in a small, delicate movement that has me watching the way it makes the muscles in her shoulders and neck work. She really is perfection—if you could harness that mouth and only use it for your dick.
“I don’t have a phone,” she mumbles.
“You don’t have a phone?” I ask, totally not believing her. “Everyone has a phone.”
“I don’t.”
“I call bullshit.”
“Do you get that you’re being annoying right now?”
“I get that you’re lying to me.”
“I’m not lying. I had a phone, but I don’t anymore.”
“What happened to your phone?” I ask her, wondering if this is going to be another out there in the twilight type of conversation.
“I dropped it in the toilet.”
“You… When did this happen?”
“A few days after I got here. I dropped it and I just never got around to getting it replaced. I only talk to my sisters or some of my other family. I’ve been keeping in touch with Hope through the phone at Joe’s. There didn’t seem to be a big need to get another one.”
“Didn’t seem to be a need,” I repeat, not believing what the fuck she’s saying to me.
“If you are going to mimic everything I say, it’s going to be a long night.”
“A single woman alone should always carry a damn phone.”
“I’m not single. I’m married.”
“Quit playing stupid,” I growl, tired of games.
“Maybe I’m not playing. I mean, I did marry you.”
“It’s good you remember, since your ass ran off,” I remind her—to which she rolls her eyes. “Get your shit together. We’ll find a hotel tonight and I’ll call my lawyer in the morning.”
“I—”
“I’m not arguing with you, Faith.”
“I told you that you can go. You can call Joe’s—”
“I’m rethinking that. I don’t trust you not to be gone by morning. Now get your shit.”
“I don’t like you. I think I just need to make that clear.”
“Message received.”
“Crystal clear.”
“Already got that message, wife, and don’t really care. Now get your shit.”
She gives me a look I figure is supposed to freeze off my dick and then stomps into the bathroom. I stand there watching her ass as she moves. I don’t sit, because I’m afraid I’d pick something up in this hell hole that might make my dick fall off and I do all of this vowing never to touch tequila again.
15
Faith
“I can’t see as how this is much better than my place,” I lie.
Titan found a Hampton Inn and Suites one town away from Buck-Stop, and then got a suite. It’s probably a big step down for him. For me, it’s nicer than any place I’ve ever lived or stayed in—with the exception of our hotel room in Vegas. This place is lush, for sure. There’s a king size bed in one room with a bathroom you could have put my last apartment inside of. There’s a door that opens off the bathroom that connects to a room with a sleeper sofa. I guess that’s where he expects me to sleep; he doesn’t seem like the type to give up the bed. There’s a kitchenette, a huge television and attached desk. It’s gorgeous, but there’s no way I would admit that to him.
He grunts at me while taking off the blazer he’s wearing. I remember the feel of that blazer and the smell of it… the smell of him. I gave it back to him after we came back to my room at the truck stop and I threw my own clothes on. Suddenly I miss it. That thought brings a sigh to my lips, but I hold it in and try to ignore the way the shirt he’s wearing stretches across his broad shoulders and chest with his movement. Titan might be a jerk, but he’s hot—as in panty melting hot.
Too bad he’s an asshole.
“I’m thirsty,” I inform him.
“There’s a sink with water,” he says, not even bothering to look up at me.
Definite asshole.
“I’d like a real drink, from the vending machines,” I grumble. I’d prefer an alcohol-type drink but there’s no in-room bar and I don’t think alcohol and Titan mix really well together.
I learned that lesson the hard way.
“The only way you get that is if I go with you and I’m too damn tired to leave this room. That makes your choices limited.”
“So you’re saying I’m a prisoner here?”
“Until I get a hold of my attorney tomorrow and he gets me the papers you need to sign so we can get our divorce, then yes.”
“You’re just being mean,” I mumble, clearly pouting. He ignores my pout and he does this by securing the remote control and turning on the television.
“Mean is telling people a man’s dick isn’t a dick but fucking titty fat,” he grumbles, stretching out on the bed. He kicks his shoes off and pulls two pillows behind him to lie on. He’s got his hands behind his head, elbows bent, looking like he owns the world. He might have a point but I ignore it. Instead, I rifle through my bag and find my shorts and a cami that I usually sleep in. Then I bundle them up in my arms and look at my prison warden, daring him to argue.
“I’m taking the first shower.” I expected him to respond, but he doesn’t. He ignores me and I take that for a yes. I stomp off, leaving him to his television.
Getting in the shower, I notice yet another difference between the hotel that Titan picked and the one I was staying at. The hot water is actually hot and the water is crystal. I’d never admit it where Titan could hear me, but there were times I couldn’t wash in the water at the truck stop. It would come out more brown than anything and I’d go into the garage early and clean up there. Which means I lose myself in the shower. I should feel guilty that I take all of the hot water from Titan, but I can’t seem to. No one made him follow me and they sure didn’t make him hold me hostage in a hotel room—even if that hotel room is fantastic.
&
nbsp; “You better be in here,” Titan growls, barging in the door just as I grab a towel. I’ve never been extremely shy about my body and it’s kind of stupid to worry about it around Titan, since we know each other—in the biblical sense. Still, for modesty’s sake I do hold the towel in front of me, hiding my boobs and hoo-hah.
His large frame kind of stops mid-movement. His face registers surprise and his dark whiskey eyes center on me and put off enough heat that I’m almost afraid they can burn me. His gaze is trained on my body and I’m wondering if I should worry they could catch the towel I’m wrapping around me on fire. When it’s clear he’s not going to look up, I almost giggle.
“See something you like, Big Daddy?”
“Can you cut out the nickname shit?”
“You don’t like being called Big Daddy?”
“Not especially,” he says, letting his annoyance shine bright.
“I’ll be sure to do it more often. Was there a reason you busted in here?”
“You’ve been in the shower for over an hour.”
“Was I under a time limit?” He crosses his arms and stares at me, but says nothing. “I’m not good at mind reading. Was I supposed to adhere to some sort of unannounced schedule?”
“Do you always start talking prissy when you get pissed?”
“Believe it or not, I never got pissed much until you came into my life.”
“I don’t believe it.” He grins.
“Suit yourself.”
“What if I wanted to shower?” he asks, and it’s clear he’s not going to leave, so I walk around him to the sink and grab the toiletries bag I left there earlier.
“Then have at it… Big Daddy.”
“I doubt there will be any hot water left,” he says and since it was cold when I turned it off, I’m pretty sure he’s right.
“Oh well, we can’t have everything, obviously. If we could I’d be in Arkansas.”
“And I’d be single,” he agrees and that kind of hurts, but I ignore it. Not like I wanted to be married to him. Still, no girl wants to feel like being married to her is one of the worst things that could happen to a man.
I decide to shut him out and since he won’t leave, towel off. He’s seen my body before and obviously if being married to me is so horrible, doesn’t care to repeat any of the things we did together. I prop my leg up on the toilet and begin drying and it’s then I feel my skin warm. I look up and Titan is staring at me and he’s not bothering to hide the hunger on his face. It makes me feel flushed, confused and more than a little turned on.
“Titan?” I ask and I ignore how husky my voice sounds.
“On second thought, a cold shower sounds good,” he growls.
Then it’s my turn to watch as he sheds his clothes and jumps under the cool spray. I have to force myself not to watch the entire show. The look on his face and his obviously hard cock all spell trouble with a capital T. That’s the only reason I throw on my clothes and all but run out of the room, unable to play it cool any more. I grab the comforter and a pillow off the bed and go to the sofa. I lay down on it without bothering to pull out the mattress it hides. I’m determined to be unavailable when Titan gets out of the shower. I know sleep will be a long time coming—for one thing, it’s still early. I vow, however, that I’ll pretend I’m asleep if Titan comes around.
I don’t think I can talk to him right now. There’s just no way, not while my mind is full of pictures of him naked.
16
Titan
“What are you doing?” Faith grumbles. Her voice sounds sleepy, but I’d lay odds on the fact that she wasn’t really asleep. I’ve pulled her up against my body, her legs hanging off one of my arms and her neck and head hanging off the other. Her ass is rubbing against my stomach and I wish it was a little lower—even if I shouldn’t.
I have been remembering our wild night of sex—our wedding night—repeatedly while trying to find Faith. Each memory I began having was better and more explicit than the one before. Still, I was way too drunk to have terrific recall. Mostly I remembered the things we did and said. Details were indeed fuzzy. The glimpses I got of her body in the bathroom earlier—of that fucking fantastic ass and those cock-stand inducing legs—heated through my system with the force of a wildfire, burning me from the inside out. Faith is danger and I’d be wise to leave her alone… Instead I’m carrying her to my bed and giving new meaning to the term playing with fire.
“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” I tell her and if my voice sounds pissed it’s her fault.
“You’re giving up the bed?” she says, her voice filled with pleasure. “That’s so sweet. I may have misjudged you, Titan. We should begin again. We can be friends this time,” she whispers, her face burrowing into my neck as she loops her arms around me. I roll my eyes, not bothering to reply. I don’t understand women, never really pretended to, but this one is in a category all her own and I really don’t get her. I put her on the left side of the bed and then walk around to the other one and slide under the covers. “Titan!” she shrieks as I pull the covers up over us.
“Tone it down, woman. You’ll have management after us.” I yawn out the words. I’ve been out of the shower for hours. I’ve been watching television and waiting for my body to warm up after the cold water. Now I’m tired, still cold and so damned horny my dick aches. All of these things are Faith’s fault, so I’m not fooling with her shit.
“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 hol
d 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.
17
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.
