Titus: Book Two of the Cantrell Brothers Series

Chapter Eighteen

“Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine,” Titus grunted quietly, “one hundred.”

Muscles burning from the intense two minute circuits that he had set for two hours, Titus grabbed his water bottle and drank the last of the cool liquid, trying to restore everything he had lost during the intervals. That had been his very last set. Pushups, pullups, bench press, up-downs, planks, lunges, all of them repeated over and over again. Some – like bench press and lunges – with weights, others without.

He had discarded his shirt about halfway in, not wanting the sweat-soaked material to drag him down. A plain dark green, it was in a crumpled ball in the corner of the Buena Vista's workout room, surrounded all different sorts of machines that had only been used by him and nobody else. Through the tinted windows of the large room, sunlight flickered in at just the right angle to tell him that it was a little past seven.

Nobody else was in the gym, all probably sleeping and enjoying their vacation like any sane person. All probably wrapped around the plush comforter and cool sheets as sunrise past and went without any notice from their sleeping minds. And he would have been like them too, finally having been able to sleep in like he had for the past three days, but he simply hadn't been able to do it anymore.

He had taken more cold showers in these past couple of days than he had in his entire life, the woman who was currently sleeping on the bed the cause of it. Anna was so close, so close to him and yet, he couldn't have her. She had absolutely refused to sleep on the bed last night, claiming that they should just continue in the switching off pattern.

She got the bed one night, and he got it the next night. Although Titus had objected to allowing a pregnant woman – his wife – to sleep on a couch, he did have to admit that the small couch put a damper on his already hurting back.

He reached to the tender area, trying to massage it lightly as he walked back to their room. Still shirtless and dripping sweat, Titus dried himself with his shirt, taking the stairs this time instead of the elevator. A few other guests had gotten into that method of transportation, and standing there next to them all sweaty would definitely ruin part of their day.

Why are you doing this to us? his calves, thighs, arms, and back wailed, all feeling as if they had been set on fire. But Titus forged on until he had arrived at the measly height of third floor, ignoring the aching muscles.

Thankfully, nobody else was in the long hallway on their floor, leaving him to breathe as deeply as he wanted and be as sweaty as he wanted. A long shower would most definitely be in order, and for a second, he actually thought about treating himself to a nice, hot one.

But as soon as he entered the room and saw Anna sprawled across the bed, Titus knew that cold water would be the only way to go. From the time since he had discretely moved her from the couch to the bed and now, she had somehow managed to kick off the colors to about shin length.

His old, gray basketball shorts were rolled up a good three times on her slim hips. The white camisole's straps were hanging off her shoulders, the way her body was angled making it appear as if her generous breasts were being offered solely to him.

He felt himself stiffen in preparation of the act newlyweds were supposed to be doing non-stop, but, he reminded himself sternly, they were only masquerading as newlyweds. And it had been easy, easier than he had originally thought. Only a few had given him and Anna questioning looks. Questions were going to be asked, but he was prepared for all of the suspicions.

From the bed, Anna rolled over, legs slightly spread from the heat and face buried in the pillow. Titus forced his gaze away and kept the hot, burning lust away. He couldn't be thinking like this now, couldn't be this vulnerable by just a single person when that person was relying on him so heavily.