“You think I’d let anyone hurt what’s mine?” he growled against her lips, his voice dark,possessive.
Jazz gasped, her nails dragging down his back. “Then prove it.”
That was all the invitation he needed.
Titus tore at her clothes, his fingers working frantically, yanking fabric aside with none of the practiced finesse he usually had. Jazz felt the difference, the urgency in him—this wasn’t planned, wasn’t premeditated. It was need, raw and unfiltered, and the realization left her burning with desire. Was this desperation or something deeper? Did it excite her or make her feel like she was losing her last grip on reason? Maybe both. An inferno, primal and chaotic, built between them.
Jazz met him with equal fervor, her hands clawing at his shirt, dragging it up over his head before she fumbled with his belt, desperate to get closer, to feel the heat of his skin against hers. He helped her, shoving his pants down as she kicked off the last of her clothes, leaving them tangled somewhere behindthem.
Then he was lifting her, pressing her hard against the wall, hismouth never leaving hers, kissing her like he could devour every breath she took. She gasped as his teeth scraped along her jaw, as his hands gripped her thighs and spread her open forhim.
The first thrust was sharp, deep, tearing a moan from her throat as she locked her legs around his waist. Ajolt of sensation crashed through her, overwhelming in its intensity. It should have been too much, too fast, but it was exactly what she needed—what she craved. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, steadying herself in him, in this moment, as the pleasure unfurled through her like wildfire.
He drove into her again and again. The hard wall behind her did nothing to cushion the relentless rhythm he set, but she didn’t care. She wanted it like this—wild, unhinged, desperate.
“Titus,” she moaned, nails scoring down his back as he hit deeper, harder.
He growled her name in response, dragging his mouth back to hers, biting at her lower lip. “You’re mine, Jazz. Say it. Tell me you love me—”As much as heloved her.
She did. Over and over, until the words blurred with the pleasure wrecking her body, until her cries shattered against the glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows behind them. But he wasn’t finished—not even close.
Titus pulled her away from the wall, carrying her across the room without breaking their connection. He lowered them to the floor, his body covering hers as he pushed even deeper, his hands gripping her wrists and pinning them above herhead.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough, uneven.
She did. And what she saw there—possessiveness, hunger, something deeper, something dangerous—nearly undidher.
Then he moved again, deeper, harder, stretching her until there was nothing left but the feel of him, of them, colliding in pure, unrelentingneed.
Jazz arched beneath him, her back bowing off the floor, her nails digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders. Every thrust sent pleasurespiraling through her, raw and consuming, increasing the heat in her belly until she was gasping, writhing, lost inhim.
Titus wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t slow. He took her like he was claiming her, like he had something to prove, like every movement was a declaration that she belonged to him in ways neither of them had ever dared to say aloud. And she met him head-on, taking everything he gave, matching him with the same desperate hunger.
Their bodies moved in a frantic, punishing rhythm, the air thick with heat, sweat, and the sound of skin meeting skin. The room felt like it was closing in around them, the world beyond these walls fading into insignificance. Jazz couldn’t tell if time had stretched or collapsed, only that nothing else existed beyond the way he moved inside her, the way he anchored her to this moment with every thrust, every desperate sound torn from his throat.
The office sealed them into a world where nothing else mattered but this—the feverish, relentlessrhythm that consumed them both. Every breath was shallow, every gasp stolen between movement. Was she losing herself in him, or had she finally found the only place she was meant to be? He whispered her name between kisses, between thrusts, between the ragged breaths they barely had time to take. His grip was bruising, his touch rough, but she wanted it—needed it—neededhimlikethis.
He rolled them suddenly, flipping her onto her stomach, dragging her hips up as he drove back into her from behind. Jazz cried out, her hands fisting against the floor, the stretch of him overwhelming, devastating,perfect.
“Fuck, Jazz,” he ground out, his hand sliding up her spine before fisting in her hair, pulling her head back just enough to force her to meet his gaze in the reflection of the window. “Look at yourself. Look at us.”
She did, her breath catching at the sight—the flush of her skin, the wildness in her eyes, the sheer intensity of the way he was taking her, owning her. Ashiver ran throughher, but she couldn’t tell if it was from exhilaration or because she needed him. All of him.
Seeing herself like this, wrapped around him, surrendering yet pushing back with equal hunger—it didn’t just excite her, it unsettled her. Because it confirmed something. This wasn’t just need or possession. This was inevitability. No matter how much she had fought him, no matter how much she had tried to keep pieces of herself guarded, she had always beenhis. Loved him. Desired him. Wanted him and only him.
She wasn’t sure if that realization made her feel safer or if it terrified her more than anything. And in this moment, she saw that truth reflected back at her. And the way he watched her in return—like she was everything.
Pleasure wound tighter, burning through her, leaving her on the edge of something soul changing. “Titus—”
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear, his grip tightening. “Comefor me. Now.”
She did, her body clenching around him, her vision going white as pleasure exploded through her. She screamed, his name tumbling from her lips. He followed seconds later, thrusting deep, his voice vibrating against her skin as he lost himself inside her, calling to her in a long, raw growl.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. They lay there, tangled together, their breathing ragged, the heat of their bodies locked in the aftermath of what they had justdone.
The air was thick, heavy with the lingering scent of sweat and sex, the weight of their shared intensity pressing down on them like a tangible force. The room around them felt different, like it had been remade in the chaos of their collision, but as the seconds ticked by, the world outside began to creep back in. Jazz’s pulse thundered in her ears, but underneath the fading pleasure, something colder began to settle into her bones—aquiet, creeping awareness that this moment wouldn’tlast.
Then, slowly, Jazz turned her head, hesitation prickling at theedges of her awareness. Astrange tension filled the air, ashift she felt before she even saw it. When she finally met his gaze in the reflection, her stomach clenched. Something had changed. The heat between them lingered, but there was something else now, something colder. Awall rebuilding itself in real time, brick by brick, until she could feel the burden of it pressing against her chest.
