Beneath These Scars

by Meghan March

  “Nothing important,” I lied.

  “Something. And you wouldn’t call the cops. Has it happened again?”

  I punched in the alarm code as soon as I had the door open, and Titan followed me inside without invitation.

  “Um, you can go now.”

  He eyed the security system with interest. “That’s new, I bet. Are the locks new too?” His gaze dropped to me. “Whatever it was spooked you badly, and you still won’t tell me a damn thing.”

  I dropped my purse on the tiny table beneath the mirror to the left of my door. “Look, Titan. We might be having a fling, but I don’t think either of us is under the impression that this is a friends-with-benefits situation.”

  He shut the door behind him and leaned up against it. “I have to say this is a new situation for me, where a woman wants me for nothing more than my cock.”

  “Don’t forget your mouth and your hands. Those are important too.”

  “But not my money, influence, protection, or anything else I can offer.”

  The word protection rubbed me the wrong way. It was just a throwback description to keeping a woman.

  “I don’t need anything else from you.”

  “So damn stubborn.” He closed the distance between us with one step. “And yet I want you more than I can remember wanting anyone else.”

  The words crashed into me, quite frankly scaring the hell out of me. I wanted him on my terms; I didn’t want his fixation or his genuine interest.

  “You shouldn’t. You should only want me as much as I want you. Anything else is a mistake.”

  “Then so be it.”

  He buried a hand in my hair, tilted my head back, and crushed his lips to mine. I didn’t think. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. I just let Lucas Titan kiss the hell out of me in my house and wondered when the world had gone so sideways.

  He released me and stepped away. “Don’t wait too long to send out the next booty call, Yve. I’m already hard.”

  Once he was gone, I reset the alarm and checked every room of my place. Nothing else moved or missing. I would have thought I’d imagined the other stuff—but I couldn’t make up the words on the mirror.

  Part of me wished I’d taken Titan up on his offer to go home with him, if for no other reason than maybe getting a decent night’s sleep. But I couldn’t rely on anyone but myself. That would be a mistake.

  As I drifted off to sleep, I wished instead that I had a huge, scary dog to keep me company. Maybe my girl Charlie would let me borrow her pony-sized mutt, Huck . . .

  I STARED AT THE TEXT from Yve.

  Eleven. Tonight. Your house.

  I would have sworn she couldn’t surprise me anymore. But saying she wanted to come to my place? That was unexpected.

  I glanced at the time on my phone. It was after seven. I was the only one still at the office, and working my way through financial projections for my project in the event the bill didn’t pass. It wasn’t a good situation. Without this bill passed, we’d barely break even the first year. And for Titan Industries, that was unacceptable.

  The last thing I wanted to be was one of those CEOs who indulged themselves with pet projects that wouldn’t add to the bottom line. Granted, this was my company and I had no shareholders to make happy, but it still grated. I’d come this far, made billions of dollars worth of decisions, and if this project had absolutely no emotional significance and were brought to me by anyone else, I’d tell them to show me the business case and move on.

  But I couldn’t do that with this project. It was mine, and I had even more on the line here than the billions I would make if the damn politicians could pull the strings I needed.

  Why? Because it was the same technology my father and I had argued about the day we’d climbed Zugspitze in Germany. Only one of us had come off that mountain breathing—and I’d come off it a killer.

  He’d sworn I was wasting my time, that it would never work. But even now I was determined to prove he was wrong, that not only was my technology good, but it was marketable and valuable. I was valuable.

  I gathered up the documents in front of me and slid them back into the file. I might as well get in a swim before Yve showed up, because I doubted I’d be able to talk her into one. I guess we’d see. It was hell on a man’s ego that the last two women I’d pursued essentially wanted nothing to do with me.

  My father’s voice rose again in my head. Because you’re worthless. Always chasing the wrong things.

  Whatever his voice said, I did the opposite. So that meant I’d chase harder.

  Yve fascinated me. She was nothing like the socialites I should be courting, but they’d simper and fawn and never tell me the truth about any damn thing. At least, not until they’d gotten a ring on their finger.

  Yve didn’t hold back, and for some reason her no-bullshit brand of honesty didn’t push the buttons my father had found so easily. No, she kept me on my toes, and she also kept coming back, which told me she couldn’t help the fact that she wanted me.

  So I’d make her want me more.

  THE GATE SWUNG OPEN BEFORE I touched it.

  Obviously he knew I was coming. After all, I was the one who’d set the time and place, because this was my game.

  About an hour ago, he’d responded to my text with one of his own.

  I’ll come get you.

  I’d simply replied, No, then hopped the streetcar to the closest stop and walked the rest of the way. Titan didn’t seem like he belonged in the Garden District; he belonged in some fancy penthouse condo overlooking the Mississippi. But I couldn’t disagree that I liked his digs here. I slipped inside the gate, shut it behind me, and made my way to the house.

  I wondered if Jerome would be here, or if Titan would have sent him off somewhere for the night. I hoped the latter was true, not because I didn’t like the old man, but I didn’t want him to overhear the screaming I hoped I’d be doing.

  Why am I even here? It wasn’t something I wanted to question too closely. I didn’t like examining my motivations. I told myself it was simply because Titan scratched my itch in a way that no one had before. He was also the least likely person to ever want to complicate things. I gave this thing between us one more night—two, max—and then I’d never see him again. I ignored the pang of regret that followed that thought.

  The front door opened, and Titan stood there wearing only athletic shorts and a white T-shirt. His hair was wet and his feet were bare.

  How was that fair?

  I’d purposefully dressed more casually than I normally would have, but nothing like I had when we were moving furniture. I wore a simple cotton dress, magenta with a navy blue chevron pattern. My hair was up and out of the way because I still had the claw-foot tub in mind. It seemed too intimate, though, as if it was a place people made love instead of whatever it was we were doing. But I still couldn’t shake the idea. I’d just play this one by ear.

  “Yve.”

  “Titan.”

  See, our greetings were even those of strangers. We weren’t intimate. This was just sex.

  “Are you going to stand there, or are you coming in?”

  He held the door open wider, and I stepped inside. When he shut it behind me, I froze, my plans suddenly deserting me. How was tonight going to go? My heart thudded in my chest as nerves took center stage.

  What is wrong with me?

  He must have sensed that something was off, or maybe not, but he asked, “How about a drink?”

  “Yeah. Sounds good. Whatever fancy Scotch you’ve got would probably go down smoothly.”

  “Then I believe you know the way.”

  Titan gestured ahead of him, and I nodded before heading in the direction of the conservatory. My steps slowed at the open door to the library, though. I couldn’t help it; the room was amazing. I wanted to climb the ladder, glide myself around the shelves, and spend hours checking out the books.

  “Feel free to wait inside. I’ll get the Scotch,” Titan said, and my
gaze darted to his. His green eyes were lit with some kind of amusement, probably at the poor girl being in love with books. I didn’t acknowledge it, though. I nodded and walked inside the library.

  Even the smell was heavenly. Old books. Leather. Murphy’s Oil Soap. The last scent reminded me of the parlor of Ginny’s house when I used to escape there to spend time with her and get away from Jay. The smell comforted and relaxed me.

  I wandered around the room, my fingertips trailing down the spines until I reached the big bay windows at the end of the room. A large, masculine desk sat in the middle of the windowed space, and it was clearly the master’s desk, with a heavy leather executive chair and a sleek laptop propped open.

  It seemed that Titan never stopped working. Not surprising.

  I dragged my hand over the wood of the desk, wondering how expensive the antique was. And my eyes caught on the stack of files next to the laptop, specifically the one on top that had my name on it.

  What the hell?

  My first thought was that he’d had me investigated, had done a background check. He knew my sordid past and history.

  Not possible, Yve. All those records are sealed. Jay’s daddy made sure of that.

  So then, what? The results of a very cursory investigation? I grabbed the file, not feeling the least bit intrusive. It was my damn name, after all.

  I flipped it open, shocked to see my application to the NOLA Entrepreneur Fund inside. The original, not a copy, along with all of my projections, budgets, and my personal statement of why I thought I qualified for a grant. I’d poured my heart into that, had explained why the shop and the neighborhood were so important to me.

  And Lucas Titan had it.

  I felt like he was seeing me more than naked. That I could handle, but this was me stripped raw to the inner pieces of me that I never would have shared with him willingly. I felt violated. Spied on. Betrayed.

  Why?

  “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

  I swung around to find Titan holding two glasses of Scotch, and not a hint of remorse on his face.

  “I wasn’t supposed to see that? You aren’t supposed to have it. What the hell, Titan?” I slapped it down on the desk, and after a second thought, grabbed it back up again and clutched it to my chest. “Why do you have this? It’s not yours. It’s mine. My personal information. My financial information. My life. My goddamn dreams.”

  “I made the appointment, Yve. How do you think I got it? I’m one of the major patrons of the fund. I’m on the board. I vet a good portion of the applications myself because I want to make sure we’re giving money to people who will actually make something of it instead of just pissing it away.”

  “You should’ve told me.”

  “Why? Why should I have told you? So you could’ve dug in your heels and said no way in hell would you apply?”

  “So did I get extra points for fucking you?” I demanded.

  His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking. “What happens between us doesn’t have a goddamn thing to do with that.” Titan slammed one tumbler of Scotch on the desk, grabbed the application out of my hands, and tossed it back on the pile.

  “Oh, so you would’ve made that appointment for me regardless?”

  “If I’d known that you were a half-decent businesswoman with a brain in her head who was looking to invest in the community by buying Dirty Dog? I would’ve at least suggested you try there.”

  “But you wouldn’t have known except—”

  “Does it really matter?”

  “Be careful, Titan, or I might start thinking you’re a good guy. That maybe you have some kind of do-gooder complex you hide from everyone else.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Don’t mistake me for anything other than what you’ve always thought I was. I’m not a good guy. There’s no way in hell I would’ve voted in favor of your application if I thought you weren’t competent. Hell, I’m still reviewing and judging your case.”

  “You’re the last person I want judging me, you prick.”

  Titan slammed down the other glass of Scotch on the desk, and the liquor lapped over the side and soaked the papers beneath it. But the papers didn’t stay long, because Titan shoved them—and the laptop—over to the other end of the desk.

  “You gonna bend me over and fuck me on the desk now?” I taunted him. “We know that’s how you like it best.”

  His eyes burned into me as he reached for me. I should have been terrified, but heat pooled between my legs. I wanted him like this. It was easier to give in to lust when it was fueled by threads of anger instead of some other softer, gentler emotion. That wasn’t what we did. We did this—hate fucking. And it was amazing.

  Titan wrapped both hands around my waist and sat me on the desk. “No, I want you to see who’s fucking you this time. I think you need to be reminded about who makes you come so hard that you forget for two goddamn seconds you despise me and everything I stand for.”

  I didn’t wait for him to move in. I shoved my dress up my thighs, revealing that I was completely naked beneath it. “Well, at least this time you won’t rip my panties.”

  “Jesus Christ, woman.”

  Nostrils flaring, he shoved his shorts to the floor, and it seemed I wasn’t the only one going commando tonight. Titan’s cock—thick, straight, and perfectly veined—bobbed in front of me, and my mouth watered. My thoughts from earlier this week about what it would be like to bring this man to his knees by blowing him within an inch of his life surfaced.

  But he was already on me and pushing my legs farther apart to make room for his hips. The head of his cock slipped against my entrance, and he thrust inside.

  “Oh my God.” I moaned, unprepared for the invasion.

  Tonight made every other time he’d fucked me seem tame. He pounded me into the desk, thrust after thrust, until I ached, but in the most delicious way possible.

  “Beg me for it,” he demanded as my body clamped down on him.

  “Screw you, Titan,” I said, covering my clit with my hand and giving myself the extra pressure I needed to send me rocketing over the edge with a silent scream.

  He fell forward over me, the motion of his hips slowing until it stopped with his deep groan, and heat filled me.

  That was when I realized it.

  I slapped his broad shoulder. “You didn’t use a condom, you idiot. What the hell were you thinking?”

  Titan pulled away, his nostrils still flaring, but this time with rage. “Don’t call me a fucking idiot.” He ripped off his T-shirt and threw it at me. “You can clean up with that. And you can find your own way out.” He snatched his shorts off the floor and shoved his legs into them before striding out of the room.

  And there I sat, on the desk of the richest man I’d ever met, one who apparently had tried to set me on the right course to achieve my dream, and I felt like a bigger whore than my mother. My stomach twisted until I thought I’d be sick on his fancy carpet.

  What the hell had just happened? What the hell had I done? Had I found a chink in Titan’s impenetrable armor?

  And what was I going to do now?

  I cleaned myself up, thanking heaven that I was on the pill and hoping Titan hadn’t been screwing around with every woman who’d tossed her panties his way. Then I slid off the desk.

  As I saw it, I had two choices. I could follow him, or I could leave.

  I DOVE INTO THE POOL and began cutting through the water. The rhythmic motion of my strokes could always calm my temper, but not tonight. Tonight I was on the edge. She’d better not follow me. She just needed to leave.

  But, goddamn it, she has no way to get home.

  I wouldn’t let myself care. I wasn’t a good guy. Besides, Yve was a smart woman. Both street smart and business savvy, she could take care of herself in any situation.

  Except with every stroke, the almost faded scars on her body flashed through my mind. They weren’t obvious, and neither she nor I had mentioned them. Hell, she hadn’t even tried to c
over them up—a faint slice on her arm, and starbursts on her knuckles where it looked like she’d been in a fight.

  For as well as she hid it, she was vulnerable. Just, apparently, like I was.

  I knew I should have burned that goddamn desk. I’d spent too many years being called to the carpet in front of it and told what a waste of time, money, and life I was. Idiot was a favorite endearment of my father’s. Dumbass. Moron. Imbecile, if he was already cracking into the vodka. Hearing that word in the vicinity of the desk had thrown me in a way I’d never anticipated. Ever.

  I should feel guilt right now for leaving her sitting there with her legs spread and my cum spilling from her body. But I didn’t. I felt shame. Shame for being my father’s son. Shame for being my father’s killer. Shame for wanting a woman who would probably always hate me for no other reason than I was who I was. And how did I deal with that? Give her more reason to hate me by not protecting her.

  God, she’d laugh in my face if I told her that it would be fine if she got pregnant. We’d handle it together. And by handle it, I didn’t mean take care of it. A heartless bastard like me wasn’t allowed to want the things that anyone else wanted, and I’d never admit that I did.

  But, goddamn it, now that I had the thought in my head, I couldn’t stop seeing Yve in my house, pregnant with my kid. She’d be a fiercely protective mother, standing between her child and any potential threat. She was a lioness—proud, strong, and devastating to anyone who crossed her. The boy in me, the one who’d lost his mother and faced the wrath of his father without protection, wanted that for my children.

  And yet, Yve wasn’t the kind of woman I should want. I should be picking out a former debutante, a Junior Leaguer, someone who would cement my place in society. That would be the good business move.

  I kept swimming, I had no idea for how long, and part of me kept hoping to hear the click of Yve’s heels on the tile floor. But it never came. So I swam until my arms, chest, and legs burned.

  As I climbed out of the pool and surveyed the empty room, I decided that whatever it was we’d been doing, it was done.