Launched himself across the space in a single stride, slammed up against me, and his arm circled my waist, and his lips slashed across mine. His tongue slid against my teeth and I had no choice but to open for him and his hand was raking at the towel in a turban around my hair, tugging it free. My damp hair fell around my shoulders in cold strings, stuck to my cheeks and back. He yanked my towel off and tossed it aside to leave me naked and cold, only to warm me with his own body heat. He dragged me harder against him, hand in my hair and the other clutching at my ass to clutch me in a fierce, wild, crushing embrace, and his mouth devoured mine, tongue slashing, lips greedy.
I felt him hardening against my belly, felt my instinctual need for him rising in me like a flood tide.
If the kiss before had been a statement, this one was…
Him screaming from the rooftops.
And then, all at once, he was gone. My front door slammed closed before I even knew he’d moved, and I was naked and aroused and confused.
And alone.
“Fuck!” I snarled, my tone a nearly exact mirror of Titus’s, moments before.
8
“And…your keys!” I handed my clients a keyring jingling with a set of keys to the house they’d just purchased. “Best of luck in your new home, and if you have any further questions at any point, call me—and thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for the opportunity to do business with you!”
The clients each shook my hand and left the title company with huge grins on their faces. I finished up the paperwork with the girls from the title office, and then walked back to Six Chicks, which, conveniently, was just down the street a few doors. I filed the paperwork, and was preparing to look over my slate of clients and potential clients. The front door jangled; I wasn’t expecting anyone and I hadn’t seen or heard from Titus in almost a week, as he was up in Canada for a series of pop-ups, so I assumed it was for someone else in the office.
“Not gonna say hi?” a deep, rumbling voice said, from a foot above my head.
I started, clapping my hand over my chest. “Holy shit, Titus, you scared me.”
He plopped down in one of the chairs opposite my desk, kicking his feet up on the edge. He wore a pair of battered Converse, a pair of khaki Dickies cut off below the knee, and a plain black ribbed tank top, with what I was coming to understand was his favorite headwear, the black beanie. “Whatcha doin’, hot stuff?”
I leaned forward, pushing a pen tip against the sole of his shoe. “Feet off my desk, you heathen.” He pulled his feet down and crossed an ankle onto his knee, and I gestured at my computer. “Well, this being an office, and it being daytime, I’m working.”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, then, smart-ass, a better question would be, can you stop working and come hang out with me?”
“Hang out with you.”
He nodded, scratching at his jaw. “Yeah. Hang out. You, me, doing, you know, stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
A smirk. “Butt stuff.” He cackled. “Kidding, kidding. Actually, I rented out an arcade.”
I gave a frowning smirk. “You rented out…an arcade.”
“Yeah. I woke up wanting to play Skee-Ball. So I gave this arcade like ten grand and they’re gonna stay closed for us. Figure we could go play Skee-Ball, and drink some beers, and just…hang out.”
I shook my head, laughing. “Yes, Titus, I can quit for the day and come play Skee-Ball with you.”
He lit up, grinning. “Really?”
I put my computer to sleep and grabbed my purse. “Yes, really. I just closed on a house today, and I don’t have anything else scheduled. I was going to work on putting together some staging pieces for a new listing, but I can do that tomorrow. It doesn’t even go up until next week anyway.”
He clapped his hands on his thighs. “All right. Let’s go throw balls at holes!”
I laughed. “I think you roll them, actually.”
“You roll the balls, do you?” he said, snickering.
I groaned. “Oh my god, you’re horrible.” I couldn’t help a cackle, though. “Yes, Titus. You take the big hard round ball in your hand, and you roll it down the tube and into the hole.”
He laughed, head thrown back. “Ball jokes from Laurel. I win.”
We were both still laughing as we climbed into his truck and headed for the arcade. The owner was an elderly man wearing yellow plaid pants, a brown button-down, bowling shoes, and a derby.
“Mr. Bright, welcome, welcome,” the proprietor said. “I’m Louis, and it’s my pleasure to host you and your friend this afternoon. Anything you want, just ask. I’ve turned all the games so they don’t require coins. They’ll still give you tickets, but of course, anything from the gift shop you want, it’s yours.”
Titus shook his hand. “Thanks, Louis. I appreciate you doing this for me.” He gestured at me. “This lovely lady here is my friend Laurel McGillis.”
Louis took my hand and kissed the back of it. “A pleasure, Ms. McGillis.” He pointed at the counter where you exchanged your street shoes for bowling shoes. “I’ll be there if you need me.”
Titus looked like he was as excited for this as if he were ten years old again. “A whole arcade and bowling alley, all to myself.”
I laughed, resting a hand on his arm. “Is this, like, a lifelong fantasy come true?”
He nodded, zero irony in his expression or voice. “Absolutely. When I was a kid, we couldn’t afford the arcade. Then I was too busy touring, and then I was too famous, and also too busy.”
“Well, here we are. What are we doing first?”
“Skee-Ball. Definitely Skee-Ball.”
The next hour and a half, Titus lost in Skee-Ball to my clearly superior ball-handling skills. He never lost his good humor, though, laughing harder and harder as it became obvious he wasn’t going to win—I sank ball after ball into the highest point holes, my string of tickets reaching ever more comical proportions, while he struggled to sink a single ball. By the time he decided it was time to do something else, my pile of tickets was so long I had to carry it in my arms.
Titus cackled as I tossed the pile of tickets on the prize counter. “So, you’re good at Skee-Ball.”
I pointed at the giant pink stuffed bunny rabbit. “I want that.” Louis got it down for me, and I laughed as I took it from him—the thing was bigger than I was. “I played softball in high school, and my group of friends in college used to go bowling every week.” I smirked at him. “Also, I’m just really good with balls.”
His voice dropped to a husky murmur as he took me by the hand and dragged me across the building toward the arcade area. “Yeah, you’re good with balls. I’m still thinking about the other night.”
“Hey, that makes two of us thinking about that night.”
“Well, I doubt we’re thinking about the same thing,” he said.
“Oooh, I love this game!” I dragged him across the arcade to a vintage Ms. Pac-Man game. “There was a pizza place near my apartment in college, and they had a Ms. Pac-Man, and I’d play it all the time.” I sat down and started a game, while Titus stood behind me, watching with his hands on my shoulders. “What part of that night are you thinking about?” I asked, focusing on my game rather than looking up at him.