His palms traveled lower, mapping the curve of her hips, pressing into the softness there, establishing himself in the reality of herbeneath him. He wanted to memorize every inch of her, to leave an imprint so deep she would feel him even when he wasn’t touchingher.
His breath ghosted over her damp skin, and she trembled, her body responding before her mind could resist. He felt the moment she surrendered—when her muscles loosened and she leaned into him, her trust offered silently. That, more than anything, set a fire low in his gut. He had her now. And he would never let hergo.
When he reached her hair, he gathered it gently, tilting her head back beneath the spray. Her eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting slightly.
Titus swallowed hard.
Fuck, she was beautiful.
When he was finished, he turned her to face him, his hands framing her jaw, thumbs brushing lightly over her damp skin. He studied her, memorizing every shift in her expression, the lingering haze in her eyes, the way her breath caught as he tilted her chin upward. She was so effortlessly beautiful,standing before him with the water streaming down her bare skin, her lips slightly parted, her body softened by the heat surroundingthem.
He wanted her to look at him, to see him, to understand that this wasn’t just about claiming her body. It never hadbeen.
He searched her face, watching the flicker of hesitation, of unspoken thoughts she wasn’t quite ready to voice. He knew what she was trying to process, the importance of what had passed between them settling into something more real, more permanent. And yet, she didn’t pull away. She stayed within his reach, her gaze locked onto his, her pulse fluttering beneath his fingertips like a silent confession.
Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead first, lingering there for a beat before trailing his lips down the slope of her cheek, pausing just at the corner of her mouth. Awhisper of a touch, apromise.
“You’re mine, Jazz,” he murmured, voice thick with certainty. “And I take careof what’s mine.”
Green eyes lifted to his, searching.
He knew what she was looking for. What she was trying to understand. The questions were there in her eyes, unspoken but undeniable. Was this real? Was it only possession? Or was it somethingmore?
He could see the hesitation, the heft of everything unspoken, the way her body leaned toward him even as her mind tried to hold back. It was instinctive, inevitable—just like them. He wanted to answer her, to tell her that fate had already decided, that there was no escaping him. No escaping this. But she had to come to that realization on her own. And she would. Because she already belonged to him, whether she understood it yet ornot.
What was this? What did itmean?
Titus could have told her. Could have crushed her last illusions and laid thembare.
But she wasn’t ready.
Instead, he leaned down and kissed her, slowanddeep.
Then he murmured against her lips—soft, certain, unshakable.
“Dry off and get dressed, wife.” He gave her bottom a loving slap. “We have a family brunch to attend.”
Chapter 3
JAZZ STOODbefore the massive closet, fingers grazing the fabrics of dresses and blouses arranged with meticulous precision. The sheer volume of it all made her pause. These weren’t her clothes.
Everything was new—dresses she had never picked, fabrics she had never touched, all carefully chosen and placed here for her. By him. Astrange ripple passed through her, amixture of gratitude and uncertainty. It was overwhelming, realizing how much he had thought about this, about her. He had anticipated her needs before she even had a chance to consider them herself.
She turned, meeting his gaze where he stood leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching her with quiet patience. “You did this?”
“I wanted you to be comfortable here,” he said, his voice steady, unreadable. “To move easily in my world.”
Her fingers grazed the silk of one dress, the softness of another. He hadn’t just picked things for her—he had chosen things that would suit her, things that felt like an extension of herself. It wasn’t about manipulation. It was consideration.
The tension in her chest eased, just slightly.
The reality of the morning clung to her skin. It lingered in the press of Titus’s hands, in the heat of his mouth. In the quiet, unshakable certainty of his presence. Even now, she could feel his eyes on her, watching from where he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, waiting. Always waiting.
She focused on the simple act of getting dressed. Onestep at atime.
Elegant, but understated. That’s what she needed. Nothing that would draw too much attention, nothing that would make her feel like she was playing a role in someone else’s life. Just something that let her breathe.
She pulled a soft cream-colored dress from its hanger. Before slipping it on, she reached for the delicate lace undergarments folded neatly in the drawers, appreciating the soft luxury against her skin. She hesitated for a brief moment, aflicker of self-consciousness creeping in, which was ridiculous considering everything they’d done last night and this morning. And yet, the awareness lingered, making her fingers pause for just a heartbeat before she finished dressing.
