Page 92 of Titus

I bent my knees while steadying her against the wall. She wrapped her leg around me, answering my presence at her hot entrance.

This was really fucking happening.

I pushed her harder against the wall—then reality slammed into me.

Steam. Cold marble. And empty arms.

A muttered curse slipped out as water streamed down my chest, and I braced one hand against the black tile, trying to catch my breath.

This was an all-new level of pathetic for a man like me. Absolutely fucking pathetic, in fact. Because no woman had ever gotten this deep into my head before, and somehow, Catalina Veléz had managed it without even being here.

I stepped out of the shower, more frustrated than before the release, knowing I needed to get through this day of long meetings, only desiring to have the beautiful woman in my arms.

I’d never been this fucking attached to anything. Would this even be called attachment? Perhaps I was possessed.

It had to be. I rarely dreamed, and when I did, they were usually memories of childhood, of my father, or of something buried so deeply it clawed its way back into my subconscious. Never a woman. Never Catalina Veléz.

And honestly, I had no idea what the hell to do with that. Except to get rid of it in the shower this morning, and that didn’t even help.

Fuck.

All it did was cause me more frustration. Maybe I needed to start working out again. There was far too much built up in my system, and I needed to fully release it.

I should’ve been happy that she wanted another day out together, just the two of us. Something I refused to believe was only gratitude for what I’d done to help her and her sister. That should’ve been enough for me.

But, no. It obviously wasn’t.

I was indeed fucked if I couldn’t get this out of my system. Everyone would see me as some wounded dog in this mental state, and I would not be the butt of everyone’s jokes today.

What made matters worse was that I was trapped tonight, having drinks with the guys—my brothers, my associates, and whichever of Saint John’s surgeons decided to invade Horizon tonight. That meant there was a very high possibility that Jake Mitchell and Collin Brooks would be there.

Goddammit.

If those two clowns realized Catalina Veléz had gotten into my head, I’d become the evening’s entertainment before the first whiskey hit the table.

That wasn’t going to happen.

The last meeting of my day should’ve been simple. Instead, I was already irritated before the investor even stepped onto the executive floor. Maybe it was because Catalina Veléz had filled every goddamn thought in my head since waking up. Maybe it was because I was operating on two hours of sleep, or perhaps it was because of a shower fantasy so humiliating that I intended to pretend it never happened.

Or maybe because men with too much money often walked into Hawk Enterprise believing wealth automatically made them intelligent.

It didn’t. And it seemed that all day, my brothers and I were here to remind them of that fact.

Elizabeth opened the boardroom doors smoothly. “Mr. Richard Lawson and his partners,” she announced, introducing the last group of tiresome investors we were meeting with today.

Three men entered the room, dressed in tailored luxury worth more than most people made in a year. And yet, I wasn’t impressed.

Wyatt glanced up from his phone by the windows overlooking Newport Harbor, while Colton remained seated at the opposite end of the table, reviewing financial projections for Hawk Crown Reserve.

None of us bothered standing.

“Gentlemen,” Lawson greeted, with the kind of confidence usually carried by men who’d never actually built anything.

I motioned casually toward the chairs across from us. “Let’s get this over with.”

The investors exchanged subtle looks before sitting, already offended, which was the point of my response.

Lawson folded his hands on the table. “First, let me say that my partners and I are very excited about the vision for Hawk Crown Reserve.”