His to Love (Titans Quarter Book 2)

by Sierra Cartwright

This time, even though embarrassment still scalded her cheeks, she sat on the edge of the bed to remove her boots and socks. Aware of his scrutiny, she stood. With her gaze downcast, she lowered the zipper before working the damp denim over her hips, then down her thighs.

  “Watching you is my new favorite pastime.”

  His words rang true, giving her confidence.

  Quickly she snatched up the shorts and did a small jig to squeeze into them.

  “You look wonderful,” he said when she finally straightened in front of him. “You’d be even hotter if we hemmed them.” He took her wrist and moved her around so he could study her rear end. “An inch or so would do it.”

  Her mouth dropped open. Did he mean it? “I wouldn’t be allowed in public!”

  “Exactly.” His lascivious grin lit his eyes and did ridiculous things to her insides.

  He cupped her shoulders and drew her toward him. Not knowing what to expect, she remained rooted in place, looking up at him.

  Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he brushed his lips across hers.

  Fire seared her.

  At that moment, she realized that her connection with him was unlike anything she’d experienced with anyone else. Even with Joe, their relationship—even their marriage—had been superficial. She’d kept parts of herself locked away. But Trevor seemed to see into her.

  When she was ready to give him anything, he released her, sending a maelstrom of confusion through her.

  “Anything else you need before we leave? Otherwise, you’ll be tied up here for a while.”

  She shook her head to refocus on the moment. That, she was certain he meant.

  “Shelby?”

  For a second, she considered a bra, but since he hadn’t let her wear one this morning, she already knew his answer. “Pajamas.”

  “Did I allow you to wear them last night?”

  “I thought maybe that was different. You know, because I fell asleep after…”

  “After I was finished eating you out and fucking your sexy body?”

  Memories danced through her brain, making her hot.

  “I won’t want anything between us in the bed.”

  “I generally sleep in a negligee of some type.”

  “As tempting as that sounds…no. If you get cold, snuggle up to me. I’ll give you everything you need for the next week.”

  She shouldn’t believe that, but she did. “Ah, well. Then. Just toiletries. And shoes.”

  “Remember sandals for the boat. Something that won’t be slippery when wet.”

  Were they still talking about footwear?

  “Whatever you can gather in two minutes or less. The sight of your curves in those shorts has tested the last ounce of my patience.”

  “This is where you live? It’s…” Though they were technically still in New Orleans, the city was miles behind them, and they were traversing a road that seemed to divide Lake Catherine and Lake Pontchartrain.

  He slid her a glance but waited for her to go on.

  “It’s spectacular. I never knew the view was so beautiful.” The road curved slightly. “Or that there’d be water on both sides of us.”

  “Have you been out here before?”

  “This area specifically? No. One summer when I was a kid, my dad and stepmom rented a place somewhere close to here. They invited me to spend a couple of days with them. I remember going on a boat, having to share a room with her kids, and they didn’t like me. I don’t remember much except for the fact I was traumatized and wanted to go home. And since my mom went on vacation to Paris with her new husband and his kids, that wasn’t an option.”

  “Sounds painful.”

  “I got through. Mostly by escaping in books, pretending I was living someone else’s life and not my own.”

  “Is that why you became a mediator?”

  “I hated the way I was a weapon between them.”

  “And you wanted to spare others that kind of pain?”

  She shifted a little. “That’s almost too easy of an answer.”

  “Truth is always a little more complicated, isn’t it?”

  “It’s probably more about conflict, to be honest.” She knew he’d persist until she gave in. So she might as well keep it light and get it over with. “There was arguing. Years and years of it. Horrible fights, thrown dishes, broken knickknacks, destroyed furniture. I’d hide under my bed with my hands over my ears.”

  “God, Shelby. I’m sorry.”

  “Then…” Maybe because she knew the relationship with Trevor would end, she decided it was safe to expose her secrets. “There’s my own divorce.”

  “Oh?” He slid a glance that was inquiring but also pointed.

  We had our future mapped out. Well, until he fell in love with a colleague where he was interning.” She tried to keep her voice light, which was difficult because his betrayal still stung. “The firm represented him at no charge, and David took me on as a client. He did the best he could, but I ended up with a lot of the debt.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I worked while Joe went to school, and I had a decent job. We were supposed to pay off the credit cards and auto loans as he started earning the big bucks. Of course, none of that was in writing. When we went to court, he said he had changed his mind about going into law and that he was going to continue with his studies. So he realistically didn’t have any huge, immediate earning potential.” She clamped her mouth shut. “At least I didn’t have to pay spousal support. So there’s that.”

  “And where is he now?”

  “Trial lawyer, in Atlanta. Moved out of state with his third wife.”

  “You are well rid of him.”

  For years she’d told herself that. It had gotten to the point she almost believed it. But she was still chipping away at the financial and emotional debt he’d left behind. “You’re right.” She was grateful they didn’t have kids together. At least that was one place she’d been firm. Maybe deep down, she hadn’t been as confident in the relationship as she wanted to believe.

  “That’s your specialty, if that’s the word? Divorce?”

  “I’ve done some corporate work. But yes. I guess you can say that. Most of my cases involve families.” And she did her best to help couples navigate the tricky emotional waters so their kids felt more secure than she had. Some days were more difficult than others.

  “Does it have an impact on you?”

  He slid a glance her way, and she turned slightly in her seat to study him. “In what way?”

  He shrugged. “It can’t be easy.”

  “I spend my days seeing relationships at their worst. They don’t come to me until everything has fallen apart, irrevocably. Most of them have put in real time, going to counseling, giving it two, three, four chances. They’ve done everything they can to save their marriage. Happily ever after turns out to be a lot more work than some people imagined it would. Sometimes they get fixed on the romance and the wedding—fancy gowns, an event to remember. And there’s not a lot of planning for what happens when things get tough, when there are money issues, or differences of opinion in raising children. I’ve seen acrimony, even hatred. There’s one particular couple that stands out. They were in their eighties.”

  “Eighties?”

  “Yeah. She said she’d given him the best years of her life, but she wanted to experience some joy before dying.” She looked out the window. “That one was sad.”

  He didn’t respond for a long time.

  “Sorry. That was more than you needed to hear.”

  “No. I’m glad you told me.”

  The time, the silence grew, and she let it.

  “Almost there.”

  She shook herself from her thoughts. Homes on stilts began to dot the landscape.

  He continued past a number of streets, making his way to a place where the pavement made a big curve, then a left-hand turn. “I’m at the end, and I own the last two lots.”

  “For privacy?”

  His
grin was quick and wicked. “You’ll have all the freedom you need to scream when I torture you.”

  Mouth wide, she dug her fingernails into the armrest.

  “I’m kidding, Shelby.”

  God.

  “The dungeon is soundproof. So your screams really are not a concern at all.”

  Dungeon? “You…?”

  “I do. And it is.”

  Shelby couldn’t breathe.

  He followed the road as it forked to the right. “That’s it, up there.” He pointed ahead and to the right.

  His enormous white home stood on pilings that appeared to be fifteen or twenty feet high. Each side had what appeared to be garages, and a large concrete area was between them, complete with a bar, hanging swing, and a large colorful sign that read GONE FISHING.

  Once he’d stopped, he pushed a remote control, and a gate slid open. Seconds later, he parked on the concrete in front of the garage door, then turned off the SUV’s engine.

  “Let’s get you settled.”

  After what he’d said, she was no longer certain this was such a good idea.

  He pulled the keys from the ignition.

  Trying to be brave, she opened the door and was almost immediately plowed backward by a great big black bear.

  “Down, boy!”

  The monstrous thing licked her face, then dropped back down to the ground. “What is that?”

  “It’s a Bruno.”

  She frowned, studying the four-footed, wagging, drooling, dancing animal. “What’s a Bruno?”

  At her mention of his name, the dog froze, looked at her through large, beautiful eyes, then extended his front paws and dropped his head between them.

  “No one is exactly sure what a Bruno is. I should have warned you he might show up. He’s nosy that way.” Trevor rounded the front of the vehicle. “Bruno is a bad-mannered vagabond. He showed up one day. We have no idea where he came from. Everyone thought he belonged to someone else. And it took about a year for us to figure out that he has no owner.” He shrugged. “Which means we all adopted him. He indiscriminately sleeps around. Well, except for Mrs. Trudeau’s home. She took him to the vet to get fixed, and he has never forgiven her. Turns out Bruno holds grudges. Who knew?”

  She couldn’t help but laugh.

  “He keeps an eye on the neighborhood. Saved a four-year-old from a nasty encounter with an alligator. Caught a bunch of kids trying to break into one of the homes when the owners were away. As you can see, he checks out all the newcomers. So he earns his keep, and he shows up for dinner wherever someone’s having a barbecue.”

  She studied the canine, trying to figure out what breed he was. “He doesn’t look like any dog I’ve ever seen.”

  “Us either. Appears to have some Great Dane in him. Or mastiff, maybe? Some people think he might be part Great Pyrenees. But then there’s his coloring. And the shape of his head. Sort of like a pizza box.”

  That sort of went along with her observation that his paws were the size of dinner plates. “When he”—accosted—“greeted me, I thought he was a bear.”

  “We’ve considered that too.”

  Bruno sat, his massive tongue lolling to one side, and extended his paw, which she accepted. ”Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bruno.”

  “You’ve received the official welcome to the neighborhood.”

  In the distance, a boat engine rumbled. Bruno whined once, then abruptly stood, barking nonstop. Before she realized what was happening, he’d dashed through to the back of the yard, where she lost sight of him.

  “We’re yesterday’s news.” Trevor grinned.

  She’d never been more grateful for a distraction. This suddenly, somehow, seemed more normal, as if she was a guest, rather than a sexual submissive for the next week.

  He opened the back of the SUV and grabbed her bag.

  She followed him up the dozens of steps to the porch. “Your home is beautiful.” There were four columns. In addition to being architecturally interesting, they appeared to support a second-level balcony.

  “Mason built it.”

  Mason was Hannah’s fiancé. “Seriously?”

  “Check out his company’s website. You’ll see pictures of the entire process.”

  On the porch, she crossed to the railing to take in the panorama. There was no way she could have imagined anything like this. “Lake Catherine?”

  Trevor joined her. “The front of the house overlooks Lake Pontchartrain.”

  “Really?” She turned to rest her elbows behind her while she looked up a him, and she had to shield her eyes from the sun. “I was honestly a bit surprised when I realized you didn’t live in one of the more exclusive neighborhoods on the lake.”

  “Because?”

  “I guess…” She squirmed. There was no good way to say this. “Assumptions.” She’d mediated two divorces for wealthy couples with lakefront property. Wanting to retain the exclusive address was one of the biggest sticking points in the dissolution of each marriage. It was about more than just the money—living on a particular street was a status symbol. Maybe she’d underestimated Trevor. “You’re able to live anywhere you wish. Right?”

  “I’m financially comfortable, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Since he’d made a twenty-five-thousand-dollar wager for a week with her, there was no doubt about that. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to be offensive, but I keep stepping in it, don’t I?”

  “This is where I want to be. For me, it’s a lifestyle choice. I’m close enough to the city for meetings, and far enough away to be in another world. There’s peace and seclusion. On a clear night, you can count the stars. Nature is everywhere.”

  In the distance a dog barked.

  “And where else has a Bruno?”

  She smiled, seeing the picture he painted. “Another assumption. From the sign.” She pointed. “You mean it when you say you’ve gone fishing.”

  “Born with a pole in my hand. It’s the only thing I remember my dad teaching me to do. Really, my only memory of him.” His voice was as easy as his shrug. “We counted on our catch to feed us. I’d sell excess to earn money. That was before I started mowing lawns, hustling to make a dime.”

  “Which is where you met Wayne?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  Once again, he hedged when it came to his past.

  “Shall we?” He walked across the deck to enter a code on the keypad affixed to the house; then he opened the French door and encouraged her to proceed him inside.

  They entered into a stunning, wide open space, with gorgeous wooden floors, unlike anything she’d ever seen. The great room was filled with cozy leather furniture, a large television, a gas fireplace, and uncovered windows that overlooked the lake.

  Quickly he sealed out the stifling humidity. “My office is to the right.”

  “Is it off-limits?”

  When he didn’t immediately answer, she turned to look at him.

  “No one has ever asked.”

  She was beyond curious. Would it be as pristine as the rest of the home? Or would he have branded it with his indelible mark? “May I see it.”

  “Be my guest.” He shrugged.

  Before he could change his mind, she acted, throwing open the double doors and entering.

  He had massive windows with an endless view. His desk was sleek and modern. Unsurprisingly, it was uncluttered. His college diploma hung on one wall, and various snapshots were featured in a collage-like display. “Your family?” Rather than waiting for an answer, she moved in closer.

  Two women, with a strong family resemblance, beamed from one of the photos, dressed in formal wear. “Your sisters?” She glanced back at him.

  “The twins. Yes.” Trevor was lounging against the doorjamb, arms folded. “They were at a friend’s wedding.”

  In another was a woman, with Trevor on one side and the girls on the other. “Your mom, I’m guessing?”

  “You’d be correct. On Mother’s Day. It’s
a tradition. We take a new picture every year, and I replace that one.”

  “That’s lovely.” She smiled. “The picture in the middle—if I’m not mistaken, that’s you with Wayne Dixon.”

  “Correct again.”

  She studied the image a little more closely before pivoting to face him. “He’s wearing the same ring you are.”

  “Keen powers of observation, Ms. Salazar. Maybe you should have been a private detective.”

  “Part of being a mediator is attention to detail, keeping track of all the various threads.” When he didn’t speak, she went on. “I noticed an identical one at Madame Giselle’s, when we were shopping for my collar. You promised an explanation.”

  “I did.” He pushed his shoulder away from the doorjamb but remained in the threshold.

  “Is there a reason you’re being secretive?” How complex was his life?

  Without answering, he continued to look at her.

  “There is, isn’t there?” In a couple of her divorce cases, husbands had belonged to secret societies. She was no expert, but she understood that the groups had symbols, perhaps on a belt buckle or a ring, some way of alerting others that they were part of some kind of fraternal order. The owl, though, wasn’t something she was familiar with. “A society of some kind.”

  “You enjoy puzzles.”

  “I do. Should I do an Internet search?”

  “No doubt you will, no matter what I say.” He grinned, and funny things happened to her insides.

  All of his mannerisms, from stern dominance to his tender care, and now his quick smile, melted all of her resistance.

  “When you do, look up the Zeta Society.”

  Shelby forced herself to focus on what he said, rather than her reaction to him. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  His response was deadpan. “It’s because it’s a secret.”

  “Touché.” She laughed.

  “You’ll have questions, and I’ll do my best to answer them.”

  “There will be things you can’t tell me.”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  “Are there a lot of members?”

  “Worldwide? More than you might imagine.”

  Worldwide? How was it possible she’d never heard of them?

  “Finished here? If so, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”