The Closer I Get to You (Cochran/Deveraux Series Book 8)

by Melanie Schuster

  Her eyes closed as she took the last swallow of the amazing elixir in the cup. With a little sigh she placed the mug on the tray and turned her gaze to Titus. “She’s a very pretty woman, very smart, but not terribly disciplined. It was hard for her to take instruction or direction; she was definitely not a team player. She had this weird sense of entitlement, like she felt she should be able to do what she wanted when she wanted, which is fine if you’re independently wealthy or self-employed, but that doesn’t fly when you’re working for someone else.” Paris paused and put her feet up on the ottoman, then grimaced as she realized it was too far away for the length of her legs. Titus quickly pushed it into a better position and she smiled her thanks at him.

  “She was from Philly and her family was quite well-off. Gayle went to private schools all her life and she really was used to living the high life. She used to date a lot of NFL players, NBA players, record producers, anybody who was well known and had lots of bling,” she said thoughtfully. “I really don’t know what she did after she left Paris & Company. I’d heard she was going home to Philly, but that could just be a rumor.”

  Titus raised his eyebrows in amazement. In less than two minutes Paris told him almost word for word what it had taken his agents a week to find out. During the course of his investigation, people had often remarked that Paris was an amazing repository of information; one person had commented that Paris knew more about what was going on at The Deveraux Group than anyone else because she was just naturally friendly and she talked to everyone. “And she never forgets anything, if she meets you once or twice she’ll know your birthday, your mama’s name and your favorite dessert. She’s just like that,” one of her staffers had said, and it was obviously true.

  He brought his mind back to the present when Paris addressed him. “I just don’t think it’s possible that she’d be doing all this, Titus. She might try to ruin my reputation or steal my man, but cutting brake lines doesn’t seem to be in her line of endeavor. And that thing tonight…” Paris shuddered and tears came to her eyes. “Why would she do that just to frighten me? How could I have that much significance in her life? I don’t get it, Titus, I really don’t.”

  Titus stood and scooped Paris out of the chair so that he could sit down with her in his arms. “Baby, there are a lot of sick and twisted people out there. Their motivations are complicated, but mine are very simple. I find them and I stop them. Period. And I’m going to find this person and make them sorry they ever decided to threaten you in any way. You got that, sweetheart?”

  Paris relaxed into Titus’s arms and inhaled the clean, masculine scent of his skin. “Got it. Now I have to go home and get unpacked,” she said with a yawn. “I have a lot of work to do before next week and I need to get myself situated.”

  Titus didn’t relax the hold he had on Paris. “Then you’ll get situated right here, baby, because you’re not leaving. You’re staying here with me.”

  “I’m going home, Titus. Nobody is going to run me out of my house and have me living like I’m in the Witness Protection Program. I’m not going out like that, if they want me they’ll have to come and get me. And then I’ll show them what my daddy showed me when I was ten years old and he taught me how to handle a gun. I’ll blow a hole in them the size of the state of Louisiana. I’m tired of this mess, Titus. You do whatever you have to do to make the weasel come out of the hole, but I want this behind me so I can get on with my life,” she’d told him with her eyes flashing and her face full of fire.

  Then she smiled mischievously. “Besides, I can’t stay here, I’m claustrophobic. I’m not staying in the Batcave with you. This place looks like a hit man lives here, Titus.”

  “It looks like what?” he said with disbelief.

  “It looks like someplace that a hired assassin would live. You could be out of here in fifteen minutes and no one would know you had ever lived here at all. There isn’t one single thing that indicates a real person lives here. I’ve never been anyplace more sterile in my life,” she told him honestly.

  “Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” he protested. Paris’s answer was to get off his lap and demand a tour. He stood up with an air of defiance; he’d show her sterile. Taking her by the hand he showed her the lavatory off the kitchen, the laundry room, the second bedroom, which served as his office, his bedroom and bathroom. Everything was spotlessly clean and impossibly tidy and like the other rooms, there wasn’t one bit of ornamentation anywhere to be found. Moreover, everything was black from sheets to towels to coverlet to throw pillows; there wasn’t a speck of color anywhere. Paris pointed that out to Titus.

  “You see what I mean? There aren’t any pictures, any plants, no nothing to suggest that the owner has a personality. And what’s with all the black? Everything you own in here is available in a wide assortment of colors, you know. This looks so dark and forbidding,” she told him.

  “I like black,” he said reasonably. “And this way everything matches.”

  “Yes, and everything depresses, too. This is actually worse than the Batcave. The Batcave is a virtual amusement park compared to this place,” she said saucily, and then shrieked with laughter as Titus grabbed her around the waist and picked her up.

  “Yeah, but the Batcave doesn’t have a bed like this one,” he growled as he tossed her into the middle of his California king-sized mattress.

  Paris let out a sound of surprise, a startled little yelp. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked at Titus warily. He met her gaze with a sweet, sexy smile as he got on the bed with her. She scooted away from him to take a better look. He didn’t move he just watched her, his eyes warm and tender, the smile never wavering. He was wearing a cashmere sweater and a nice-fitting pair of jeans and he looked freshly shaved. Suddenly she looked shy, touching her hair with one hand and smoothing her top with the other. “I look a mess,” she said softly.

  “You look adorable,” he countered, moving closer to her. She froze, looking like a fawn about to bolt.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “Nothing you don’t want me to do, Paris. And anything you’ll let me do,” he responded in a voice as soft as hers. He held out his hand to her and she looked into his eyes for what felt like an eternity before she put hers into it. He was touched to feel it trembling just a little. “Come here, baby. Come closer to me, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly.

  Paris allowed him to put his arms around her and with a ragged sigh; she wrapped her arms around his neck as he put her into his lap. “Oh, that’s better, baby,” he whispered. “That’s much better.” He caressed her face with his lips as his hands became reacquainted with her curves, starting with her breasts. He kissed her neck, burying his face in her fantastic hair, inhaling her fragrance and loving how she felt in his arms. He began to turn her body so she could lay with him on the bed and she stopped him.

  “No, wait, I’m a mess,” she said again. “I just flew in from California and I’m all rumpled and grubby and you look like a cover model for GQ. That’s not fair,” she said with a frown as she began batting his hands away.

  “Aww, baby, you could never look bad to me,” he assured her, putting his arms around her again and coming in for one more kiss. “But if you’re uncomfortable, how about a bubble bath?”

  Paris looked at him suspiciously. “Bubbles? In the Batcave? I’m not bathing in dish soap, Titus.”

  He laughed out loud, rolling her over on top of him. Giving her one more squeeze he assured her he could do better than that. “Come with me, Paris, I have a surprise for you.”

  ***

  Paris had to concede that Titus was right; he had something a little better than Dawn liquid to offer her. The rest of the condo might be Spartan and uninviting, but the bathroom was spectacular. There was a huge Jacuzzi tub with jets all the way around it and a separate glass enclosed shower stall with showerheads on opposite sides. Each side boasted hand held nozzles with a variety of settings; everything from a so
ft mist to a monsoon setting was available. His towels were black, of course, but they were incredibly fluffy and soft, as well as being huge. A mini stereo on the vanity played an exquisite selection of jazz and Jon Lucien’s incredible voice caressed her senses as she relaxed in the tub with bubbles up to her chin. Lovely fragrant bubbles, as a matter of fact. It seems that Titus had an affection for bath gel and he had several big bottles of Neutrogena Rainbath and Vitabath in supply. His ears reddened slightly as he explained that soap dried his skin too much. “I’m big but I’m sensitive,” he’d muttered.

  Paris sipped her goblet of sparkling water while she luxuriated in the warm, pulsating water. The force of the jets on her body was arousing, almost as arousing as the thought of being with Titus again. She emptied the glass and put it on the edge of the tub. She then stood, reaching for a towel. Stepping into the shower, she quickly rinsed the foam from her body and reluctantly turned off the shower. She wanted to play with all the settings, but there was time for that later. Right now, there was something else she needed to do. She had just wrapped the towel around her body when a tap at the door made her look around.

  “Are you decent?” Titus’s voice asked.

  “Perfectly,” she answered. He opened the door with a look of disappointment.

  “That’s too bad,” he said glumly. “I brought this for you to put on.” He handed her a man’s pajama top in heavy silk satin jacquard. It was luxurious, rich looking and completely unexpected, especially as it was a deep crimson. He pulled his earlobe and answered her unasked question.

  “They were a Christmas present from my mother a couple of years ago. Don’t ask me what she was thinking because I still can’t figure it out,” he said. Paris accepted the top with a smile and told Titus she’d be out in a minute.

  And now she was ready, walking into Titus’s bedroom trying not to appear as nervous as she felt. She padded into the bedroom in her bare feet, having no way of knowing how sexy and vulnerable she looked. All of her attention was focused on Titus, who was standing next to the bed setting a tray on the nightstand. He turned when he heard her enter the room. “I just thought you might be hungry. You had a long flight and a big shock and…damn, you’re beautiful,” he said hoarsely.

  Paris kept walking until she was in front of him, and her trepidation vanished when she saw the way he was looking at her. He put one hand on her shoulder and touched her face with the other one.

  “I fixed you something to eat. Are you hungry?”

  She slipped her arms around his waist and gave him a look of intense desire. “I’m hungry for you, Titus. Just you.”

  His eyes darkened to a velvety sapphire and he breathed her name reverently as he bent to kiss her. As their mouths met he picked her up and placed her on the bed with great care, their mouths still mated as he joined her. He knelt over her, kissing her over and over while he slipped the sweater over his head. He stopped only to get off the bed and remove his jeans, never taking his eyes off Paris. She gave him a shy smile and looked around the room. It was still utilitarian, but he’d done what he could to make it special for her. He had turned down the bed and lowered the lights to a dim glow. There was incense burning and John Legend was playing softly. She moved to the center of the bed and gasped in surprise. “Satin sheets, Titus? I never pictured you as a satin sheet kind of guy,” she teased him.

  Titus made a face as he slid into the bed next to her.

  “I’m not, that’s my sisters’ idea of a joke. But the joke is on them because these things are really comfortable.”

  Paris wasn’t concerned with bedclothes anymore; she was too mesmerized with the sight of his body and the way it looked in the soft light. She ran her hand over the bulging muscles of his upper arm, rising up on her elbow to get a better look. “I’ve never seen anybody with a body like yours,” she said frankly. “I love the way you’re put together, Titus.” She blushed, afraid she’d said too much. He reassured her at once, taking the hand that was touching him and putting it to his lips.

  “Thank you, baby. No one except you has ever said anything like that to me. And for the record, your body is perfect. I love the way you’re made, Paris.” He reached for her and took the top button of the pajama top in his long fingers. “Your skin is so soft and beautiful, it doesn’t look real,” he murmured as he undid the button. He kissed the tiny hollow at the base of her throat as he took another button. “You’re tall, which I love because it makes it easier for me to kiss you without breaking my neck. And you’re so graceful; when you walk you look like a queen. Your butt sways and your hips move and I get hot just from watching you,” he admitted as he opened her top a little more. Now he licked the space between her breasts as he captured yet another button. “Your breasts are beautiful, Paris,” he said as he opened the top even more, enough so he could move the fabric aside and expose one of her round, firm globes to his view.

  He ran his palm across her nipple, smiling as it immediately responded to his touch. Cupping her breast, which was heated with desire, in his hand he brought his lips to its tip, surrounding her rosy, erect bud with his warm, wet mouth, circling it with his tongue while he gently kneaded and stroked the her silken flesh. He finally pulled away long enough to expose the other breast as another button was undone. “I could do this forever, Paris. You taste so sweet and you feel just right in my hands, just right.” He paid tribute to her other breast in the same way, until she moaned his name aloud. “I’m not finished, sweetness.” He finally opened the last button, rubbing his hand over her rounded tummy with excruciating tenderness. “I love this part of you, Paris. It feels so soft, so sexy and it looks so good.” He rubbed his face against it while his hand caressed her hip. He parted her legs gently, he didn’t want to alarm her, but he was eager to find the treasure he knew awaited him. He touched her feminine mound, only to draw his hand back in confusion. He sat up and stared at her, unwilling to believe what he was feeling.

  “Paris, what did you do?” His voice was hoarse with disbelief.

  It took Paris a minute to answer. She was completely aroused by what Titus was doing to her body, yet totally relaxed. She was so into the sound of his voice and the feel of his hands and his mouth on her, she didn’t want him to stop, she wanted it to go on forever, but Titus was insistent. “What did you do,” he repeated with growing anxiety.

  “I had a Brazilian,” she told him. “Don’t you like it?”

  “A what? What’s a damned Brazilian? How could you violate the rose like that, woman?”

  “A Brazilian is a bikini wax, Titus, so everything is nice and tidy. Doesn’t it look cute?” She turned so she was completely on her back and he could see her pelvic area in all its glory. He didn’t answer for a moment, but then he began to speak. “I’ll tell you the truth, baby, I liked it the way it was, all that thick curly hair turned me on. But this is actually quite sexy, especially the little heart in the middle.” He leaned over and kissed it, following the kiss with a caress of his fingers, which magically coaxed her legs into just the right position. He was so absorbed in his foray he almost didn’t hear her question.

  “What rose are you talking about, Titus? You said I violated a rose, what rose?”

  Instead of answering he moved over her body and settled into a kneeling position that allowed him access to that which he craved the most. Placing his mouth on her ripe womanhood, he used his lips and his tongue to explore her, to dissolve her into a sensual mass of bliss, to bring her to a level of pleasure she’d only experienced one other time. She rocketed to the edge of an abyss of sensation and careened over the edge with Titus holding her literally in the palms of his big hands. He held her hips in place while he sucked her and licked her into a sexual oblivion where there was nothing but the two of them. He devoured her, wringing every bit of inhibition out of her and leaving nothing but passion and desire. When he finally released her, it was with exquisite slowness, as he licked and kissed his way back up her body, stopping at her mouth as she
struggled to breathe normally.

  “That rose, baby. Pink and pretty just like a rosebud. You’re my rose,” he whispered.

  Paris sighed with pleasure; her entire being was filled with the joy of being with Titus again. As he drew her into his arms for another soul shattering kiss the words slipped out so naturally she didn’t realize she was saying them. “I love you, Titus. Make me yours,” she whispered.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Titus glanced over at Paris as he drove through the streets of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. She was by far the most stubborn woman he’d ever met in his life, but she was no doubt the most captivating. He’d had a chance to witness more of her charisma at the conference they’d just left, an annual gathering of readers and writers of African-American romances. He had also gotten a real taste of her implacable nature after their encounter at his apartment. That was when he knew just how mule-headed Paris could be when she chose. They had made love all night like newlyweds and she still insisted on going home the next morning.

  “This doesn’t change anything, Titus. Someone is still after me and you and I aren’t any better suited than we were before. That hasn’t changed. You and I aren’t destined to be together and we both know it. We gave in to the passion last night but it can’t happen again,” she’d told him with a sad maturity that made him want to kick something. The fact that she was completely correct notwithstanding, her calm demeanor and expressionless delivery put a wrenching pain in his gut he couldn’t understand. How could she give herself to him so passionately and then act like it was no big deal the next day? How could she tell him she loved him over and over during the night and pretend like they were mattress buddies the next morning?

  Titus had to force his attention back on the road ahead of him. He couldn’t drive and think about how sexy Paris had looked in his bed and the glorious love they’d made all night long. Every time he turned to her, she was waiting for him, welcoming his body with her loving embrace. She had delighted and excited him by initiating more lovemaking too, turning into his arms and whispering his name so sweetly it made his heart ache to hear it. She declared her love so sweetly it touched him in a place he didn’t know existed. And now she wanted to act like it was business as usual? Fat chance of that, he thought. She was right, of course, it would have been sheer madness for him to indulge his ravening appetite for Paris at the moment, but it sure didn’t lessen his desire. This is far from over, Paris no matter what you think. I can show you better than I can tell you, so you’re going to get a demonstration real soon. The thought made him impatient for her. But he had to wait until everything was settled. Until then, it was cold showers and professional decorum even though it was driving him crazy. And now she sat next to him in the car, as prim as you please, with no idea of the turmoil inside him.