Macy spent the morning with Alaina, Sophia, and Megan, cleaning out the garden for the coming spring. They also discussed what would be planted during that time—or the late winter to most of the United States—and decided they’d try some onions and carrots. The hard, desert ground made it difficult to till the land, but they’d managed roses, tomatoes, and chili peppers this year. They’d made a lot of salsa, which she loved.
Her watch read almost one, and she decided to take down Titus’ lunch. As she excused herself from the garden and made her way into the silo, excitement rushed through her at the thought of seeing him, but she tried to quell it and wondered if these sudden feelings for the male were real, or if loneliness had moved in as her companion. If it were the latter, then she could always go to Roman to get the physical contact she needed. However, a small voice told her that wouldn’t be enough, nor did she want Roman’s touch. She wanted an emotional connection, something Roman wouldn’t be capable of. At least, they’d never had one before, and she certainly wouldn’t be getting that from a male who mourned the loss of his dead mate.
Sighing, she prepared his lunch, then rode the elevator down to his floor. As the panels separated, a dim light illuminated from under his door. She knocked quietly and pressed her ear against the thick oak panel to see if he responded.
Hearing nothing, she slipped the key from her pocket and quietly opened the door, then shut it. A light from the bathroom cast a soft glow around the room. She made out Titus’ figure on the bed, his back to her, the sheets barely covering his hips.
She took a moment to look him over. Muscular shoulders tapered into a tight waist. He didn’t have quite the same stature as the Saviors, but stood a few inches shorter and his physique wasn’t as broad as theirs, but he could definitely hold his own against them. His hair flowed down his back and across the pillow in dark, sensuous waves, and she hoped he never found the need to cut it.
Placing the tray on the bedside, she sat down next to him. His face held a calm and peace she’d never seen during his waking hours. Relief flooded through her that he received a reprieve from his pain while sleeping.
Laying her hand on his shoulder, she whispered his name, and smiled when he didn’t respond.
Should she leave him be, or should she wake him? It was important he ate; yet, getting his rest proved doubly important. However, he’d also been sleeping much of the past year away, so maybe it should be time to break him of the cycle.
“Titus,” she whispered into his ear. She didn’t want to revive him in a harsh way.
He mumbled something, then turned to his back. She glanced down as the sheet rode up his thigh, barely covering his sex.
Shaking her head, she focused on his face again and placed her hand on his chest.
“Titus.”
The next thing she knew, he’d grabbed her around the waist, thrown her to the bed, and covered her body with his.
Surprise rendered her paralyzed. His lips moved across hers hungrily and heat rushed through her veins. She relished the feeling of his hard chest against her, the way his hips drove into her core.
He moaned, and she gave in to the moment, allowing herself to enjoy the ache of desire and closeness. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her hands tracing up his back. Their tongues dueled feverishly as she tangled her fingers into his hair.
This isn’t real.
Gazing up at him, her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in short spurts. This felt so right, but his eyes were still shut. Although she wanted nothing more than for this to continue, he didn’t feel present in the moment, and she understood that whatever this was, he had to be dreaming.
“Titus!”
He still didn’t wake, and she gently slapped his face. “Titus!”
Slowly, he opened his eyes and gazed down at her. Once the situation registered, his stare widened in surprise and he rolled off of her and jumped from the bed.
She lay on the mattress and tried to ignore the hard plains of his body and his thick erection jutting from his hips, as well as the desire roaring in her system. She calmed her breathing and dismissed the urge to reach out to him. Concentrating on his face, she fought to disregard the way his hair cascaded around his shoulders as he buried his head in his hands.
“What have I done?” he whispered.
She got off the bed, stood tall, smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, and waited for him to answer his own question.
Finally, he opened his eyes and gazed down at his body, then glanced over at her. He ripped the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around himself.
“I’m so sorry, Macy,” he whispered. “I … I don’t know what that was … I … I don’t know what else to say.”
She nodded and laid her hand on his forearm, her sanity returning. “You were sleeping, Titus. I shouldn’t have woken you.”
“No. No! I never should have done that.” He finally met her gaze fully. “Macy, I’m so sorry. You know I would never do anything to hurt you.”
Smiling, she squeezed her hand. “Of course I know that. You must have been dreaming of Simon.”
He searched her face for a moment, looking confused. “Y-Yes, I must have been.”
Taking a step back, she set her features so that her disappointment wouldn’t show. “I’ve brought you your lunch, and I’m so sorry I woke you from such a deep sleep, and apparently, a very intense dream.”
He glanced at the tray next to his bed, complete horror written on his face.
With nothing left to say, she turned to leave, determined not to let him see the tears of hurt tracking down her cheek.