Beneath These Scars (Page 47)

It seemed that Titan never stopped working. Not surprising.

I dragged my hand over the wood of the desk, wondering how expensive the antique was. And my eyes caught on the stack of files next to the laptop, specifically the one on top that had my name on it.

What the hell?

My first thought was that he’d had me investigated, had done a background check. He knew my sordid past and history.

Not possible, Yve. All those records are sealed. Jay’s daddy made sure of that.

So then, what? The results of a very cursory investigation? I grabbed the file, not feeling the least bit intrusive. It was my damn name, after all.

I flipped it open, shocked to see my application to the NOLA Entrepreneur Fund inside. The original, not a copy, along with all of my projections, budgets, and my personal statement of why I thought I qualified for a grant. I’d poured my heart into that, had explained why the shop and the neighborhood were so important to me.

And Lucas Titan had it.

I felt like he was seeing me more than naked. That I could handle, but this was me stripped raw to the inner pieces of me that I never would have shared with him willingly. I felt violated. Spied on. Betrayed.


“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

I swung around to find Titan holding two glasses of Scotch, and not a hint of remorse on his face.

“I wasn’t supposed to see that? You aren’t supposed to have it. What the hell, Titan?” I slapped it down on the desk, and after a second thought, grabbed it back up again and clutched it to my chest. “Why do you have this? It’s not yours. It’s mine. My personal information. My financial information. My life. My goddamn dreams.”

“I made the appointment, Yve. How do you think I got it? I’m one of the major patrons of the fund. I’m on the board. I vet a good portion of the applications myself because I want to make sure we’re giving money to people who will actually make something of it instead of just pissing it away.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“Why? Why should I have told you? So you could’ve dug in your heels and said no way in hell would you apply?”

“So did I get extra points for fucking you?” I demanded.

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking. “What happens between us doesn’t have a goddamn thing to do with that.” Titan slammed one tumbler of Scotch on the desk, grabbed the application out of my hands, and tossed it back on the pile.

“Oh, so you would’ve made that appointment for me regardless?”

“If I’d known that you were a half-decent businesswoman with a brain in her head who was looking to invest in the community by buying Dirty Dog? I would’ve at least suggested you try there.”

“But you wouldn’t have known except—”

“Does it really matter?”

“Be careful, Titan, or I might start thinking you’re a good guy. That maybe you have some kind of do-gooder complex you hide from everyone else.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t mistake me for anything other than what you’ve always thought I was. I’m not a good guy. There’s no way in hell I would’ve voted in favor of your application if I thought you weren’t competent. Hell, I’m still reviewing and judging your case.”

“You’re the last person I want judging me, you prick.”

Titan slammed down the other glass of Scotch on the desk, and the liquor lapped over the side and soaked the papers beneath it. But the papers didn’t stay long, because Titan shoved them—and the laptop—over to the other end of the desk.

“You gonna bend me over and fuck me on the desk now?” I taunted him. “We know that’s how you like it best.”

His eyes burned into me as he reached for me. I should have been terrified, but heat pooled between my legs. I wanted him like this. It was easier to give in to lust when it was fueled by threads of anger instead of some other softer, gentler emotion. That wasn’t what we did. We did this—hate fucking. And it was amazing.

Titan wrapped both hands around my waist and sat me on the desk. “No, I want you to see who’s fucking you this time. I think you need to be reminded about who makes you come so hard that you forget for two goddamn seconds you despise me and everything I stand for.”

I didn’t wait for him to move in. I shoved my dress up my thighs, revealing that I was completely naked beneath it. “Well, at least this time you won’t rip my panties.”

“Jesus Christ, woman.”

Nostrils flaring, he shoved his shorts to the floor, and it seemed I wasn’t the only one going commando tonight. Titan’s cock—thick, straight, and perfectly veined—bobbed in front of me, and my mouth watered. My thoughts from earlier this week about what it would be like to bring this man to his knees by blowing him within an inch of his life surfaced.

But he was already on me and pushing my legs farther apart to make room for his hips. The head of his cock slipped against my entrance, and he thrust inside.

“Oh my God.” I moaned, unprepared for the invasion.

Tonight made every other time he’d fucked me seem tame. He pounded me into the desk, thrust after thrust, until I ached, but in the most delicious way possible.

“Beg me for it,” he demanded as my body clamped down on him.

“Screw you, Titan,” I said, covering my clit with my hand and giving myself the extra pressure I needed to send me rocketing over the edge with a silent scream.

He fell forward over me, the motion of his hips slowing until it stopped with his deep groan, and heat filled me.