Choosing August

Chapter 20

The sight in front of me somehow made everything better and worse at the same time.

Worse because Titus had already seen me exposed and vulnerable, and I had spent the entire walk back to the bed convincing myself I had been thoroughly unimpressive.

Not that it should have mattered.

I was more of a bottom anyway.

And, as previously established, I had a great ass.

But Titus—

Whew.

My eyes dropped before I could stop them, and then I looked up and accidentally met his gaze.

Bad idea.

My attention wandered down again: across his chest, over his stomach, following the faint trail of hair that disappeared beneath his lowered waistband, well where his lower waistband would be if he hadn’t pulled it down.

He was impressive.

Extremely impressive.

“What the f**k are you doing?” I demanded.

“I had to see yours,” he said. “Now you get to see mine.”

“That is not how this works.”

“Maybe it’ll help with your fantasies.”

“Titus, stop.”

He laughed, completely unbothered by the fact that my brain had stopped functioning.

I shook my head and forced myself to look away.

“Okay. You can put everything away now.”

“What? You don’t like it?”

“Very much the opposite.”

“So am I still a thirteen?”

“You might be a twenty.”

Titus laughed as he pulled his underwear back into place.

“You might also be a terrible tease,” I said.

“Maybe I am.”

“Letting me look at the equipment without ever getting to use it?”

“Never say never.”

I stared at him.

“Don’t do that.”

He only smiled.

“Why don’t we go to sleep?”

“Finally.”

I settled back against the cot, attempting to find a comfortable position without disturbing my knee.

Before I knew it, Titus was standing again.

The man who had exposed himself to me only moments earlier was now carefully adjusting the pillows beneath my leg, making sure the brace rested where it needed to.

“If you need anything during the night, wake me up.”

I smirked.

“Anything at all,” he added suggestively.

“You’re awful.”

This time, Titus smirked.

Then he returned to the other cot, lay down, and eventually went to sleep as though nothing unusual had happened.

I remained awake a little longer, staring into the dark.

“What is my life?” I whispered.

I had told him far too much.

I had seen far too much.

And his plan might turn out to be dangerous.

But I was tired of doing nothing.

Tired of waiting for Bryson to choose me.

Tired of waiting for Cal to remember I existed.

Tired of sitting alone while everyone else’s lives moved forward without me.

I needed to live my own life.

Not simply exist inside everyone else’s.