Instead, she let herself sink into the feel of him—the solid strength of his arms, the way his heartbeat was steady and sure beneath her palm. Safe. Unshakable. It should have made her relax, but it only unsettled her more. Because safety wasn’t something she associated with men like him. Clout, supremacy, dominance—yes. But this? This was something different. Something dangerous.
She wasn’t sure if she felt protected or trapped. Maybe both. Maybe that was the most dangerouspart ofall.
By the time they reached the master bedroom, she had forgotten why she’d resisted in the first place.
Titus nudged the door open with his shoulder and carried her inside without hesitation.
The room was breathtaking.
Jazz had been there the night before, but she hadn’t taken the time to reallyseeit. Now, with the heavy wooden doors closing behind them, shedid.
The bed was enormous, draped in dark sheets that looked impossibly soft, the headboard carved with intricate filigree, atestament to craftsmanship and excess. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the space, offering an uninterrupted view of the estate’s sprawling grounds, the neatly manicured gardens stretching endlessly under the afternoon light. Heavy curtains, currently drawn back, hinted at the ability to enclose the space in deep privacy whenever desired.
A massive fireplace took up one wall, its unlit hearth a quietpromise of warmth for colder nights, its carved mantle adorned with subtle but unmistakable symbols of potency—small, carefully placed details that most wouldn’t recognize, but Jazz suspected held meaning for Titus. Asitting area, complete with plush armchairs and a low, glass-topped table, all arranged near the windows, making the space feel less like a bedroom and more like a private retreat.
The room, a testament of the undeniable taste of an apex predator, was also strangely comforting, intimate. It wasn’t just luxurious—it washis, and now, by extension,theirs. The realization sent a strange shiver down Jazz’s spine, making her stomach clench as she took it allin.
“This is…” She trailed off, at a loss for words.
Titus placed her down gently, his hands lingering on her waist before he took a step back. “Ours,” he said simply.
Jazz’s stomach flipped.
Ours. Nothis. Notmine.Ours.
She should have corrected him. Reminded him that this wasn’t real, that this was a business arrangement more than anything else. But she didn’t. Because in that moment, with the air thick between them and the heaviness of his gaze burning into her, it feltreal.
Too real.
Titus reached for the buttons at his cuffs, rolling them back with methodical ease. “Take off your dress, Jazz.”
Her breath caught. “What?”
He didn’t repeat himself. He didn’t need to. The command was clear. Unwavering.
Jazz’s throat went dry. Her pulse pounded.
She should push back. Challenge him. Tell him she wasn’t his to command.
But as she stood in the center of that impossibly large, impossibly beautiful room, with Titus watching her like he had all the time in the world, she realized somethingterrifying.
She wanted to obey. Her body tightened in anticipation even as her mind rebelled. The instinct to submit warred with a lifetime of independence, the need to maintain control clashing against the dangerous thrill of letting him takeit.
It wasn’t just about desire—it was about the way he stripped her bare without even touching her. And yet, beneath the fear, something deeper stirred, something that terrified her evenmore.
She wanted to give in. Her breath hitched, her fingers twitching at her sides, torn between hesitation and a yearning she couldn’tname.
And that scared her more than anythingelse.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for the buttons of her dress, hesitating for only a breath before pulling the material down her shoulders. The fabric whispered against her skin as it slid down, pooling at her feet in a soft heap. Cool air kissed her exposed flesh, but the heat of Titus’s gaze was what truly set herbody ablaze.
He said nothing at first, simply taking her in. The strength of his stare made her feel naked long before the dress had fallen, and yet she didn’t move to cover herself. Athrill of vulnerability laced with anticipation coursed through her veins.
Titus’s expression remained unreadable, his gaze tracking slowly from her collarbone, down the curves of her body, lingering where he pleased before finally meeting her eyes again. Something dark and unspoken flickered there. Approval. Possession. Asilent promise of what was tocome.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice like a slow pour of whiskey—smooth, rich, and laced withheat.
The words sent an, unexpected pang of desire through her, simmering low in her stomach. She should hate that reaction, should reject the way her body responded so easily to him. But when he stepped closer, his fingers trailing lightly down her arm, all rational thought unraveled.
