Page 89 of The Loathing

“Titus…” her cheeks flame red once more and I dip my head.

“It’s okay, you didn’t see anything…” I pin my gaze on hers and I want to see her admission. I know she saw me, she was just too embarrassed to admit it.

“I didn’t,” she rolls her lips.

“Then why are we still talking about it?”

Her breath catches in the back of her throat and it takes her a moment to turn her face away from me and focus on her own reflection.

“I’m going to cook tonight, grab a couple bottles of wine… unless there is anything else you like?”

“I like margaritas.”

She licks her lips as if she is imagining the taste of the tequila-based cocktail on her tongue.

“Okay,” my lips lift a little higher one side.

“With a chilli popped in it, salt round the rim…”

“Sounds spicy,” I raise my brows.

“Spicy and delicious,” her eyes float to mine in the reflection of her mirror.

“I can’t wait to taste…” I lick my own lips now but not because I’m imagining the margarita… no, it’s because I am imagining what she is going to taste like on my tongue.

My cock hardens and throbs.

“I’ll see you downstairs,” I just about manage before turning and heading downstairs, but I head straight for my bedroom, slamming it shut and jack myself off until I physically have no more to give.

I will get my obsession out of my head.

I have to.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

AMORA

OH.

MY.

GOD.

My cheeks were flamed when I walked out of Titus’ bedroom and scurried off to my room. The picture of him is replaying on repeat of him standing there, his towel dropped to the floor and everything on show. Shit.

A burn radiates through me, a delicious ache throbbing between my legs.

How am I going to live with him now? Now that I have seen him in all his glory.

I flick my lashes with mascara and try and push the images from my head, but it’s no use. They are burned into my corneas. And honestly, I’m not mad about it.

I’m mad that I am not more experienced and brazen in a situation like this.

Arabella is confident in her relationships; she tells me all about it and I get a little jealous over what she has experienced.

I am over being a virgin. I’m not sentimental about losing my virginity, to be honest I would rather have it done and over with. Out of all of my friends, I’m the last one to lose it.

I had a pact with Parker—Carter and Freya’s son—that if we were both still virgins by the time we were eighteen, we would lose it together… but he struck out of that pact when he lost his virginity on prom night.

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