Page 127 of Titus

But I could feel it anyway, in the slight tremble of his hand in my hair. In the way he kissed me like he was starving. In the way he exhaled against my mouth, as if finally touching me hurt him.

Everything in the world disappeared except Titus in that moment. The world disappeared. The only thing I knew was that this impossibly powerful man was holding me like I was something precious enough to ruin him.

And when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine again, his breathing uneven now… while I refrained from panting.

His thumb brushed softly across my cheek as his eyes searched my face with something so raw that it made my chest ache.

“Dios mío, Catalina,” he whispered roughly.

God help me, too.

Judging by how my whole body still trembled from that single kiss, I knew I was already beyond help.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

I should’ve kissed her again, and that was the damn problem. Now I couldn’t think straight, and every time I looked at Catalina sitting across from me, I saw her swollen lips, which kept reminding me of what just happened between us.

Jesus.

The sight of her was becoming increasingly difficult to bear.

I reached for my wine glass, mostly to give myself something else to focus on, rather than the overwhelming urge to pull her out of that chair and back into my arms.

I could control boardrooms where millions of dollars moved beneath my fingertips. Surely I could fucking control myself right now.

Dinner would arrive any moment. That would certainly help. Anything that could redirect my attention from the fact that I could still taste her. Sipping the damn wine was doing nothing more than tempting me to taste it on her lips again.

Catalina tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear as she glanced down toward the harbor beyond us. I watched as she took another graceful sip of her wine. She was so beautiful it was painful.

The movement exposed the elegant line of her neck, and my jaw tightened instantly. This was becoming ridiculous. I had spent years mastering self-control in every aspect of my life, including business, negotiations, pressure, and women. Nothing rattled me. Until, of course, I met this woman, who apparently destroyed years of discipline simply by existing.

The cellist shifted into another soft melody nearby while candlelight flickered between us.

Catalina finally looked back at me. “Are you suddenly quiet because you regret kissing me?”

No. It’s because I’m trying very hard not to kiss you again until neither of us remembers how dinner even started.

But instead of admitting that, I calmly lifted my wine glass. “It would be impossible for me to regret kissing you,” I said smoothly. “I’m simply enjoying the view.”

A faint smile touched her lips. “You’re impossible.”

Wrong again. The impossible thing was the way this woman affected me after one kiss.

The staff arrived with the main course before I could say anything that might likely worsen my already thinning restraint.

The meal was set before us as Catalina softly thanked the staff. I loved the way this woman noticed people, spoke kindly to them, and never looked through them. It was like she’d had dinner with me on this yacht a million times.

Fucking hell, most women couldn’t think in my presence, let alone acknowledge my staff as they brought out their meal.

Catalina didn’t seem affected one way or the other. Hell, she didn’t even seem to be struggling in the same manner I was after that consuming and delicious kiss.

The staff disappeared, leaving us alone with the sound of the ocean and cello music drifting through the Newport night.

Catalina picked up her fork, then paused midway. “This looks delicious,” she smiled.

My attention had locked onto her mouth the second she lifted the fork toward it.

A slow smile curved her lips. “Are you going to eat?”