Page 108 of Claiming Pretty

He reached for me, pulling me up and over his lap so I was straddling him.

Our foreheads pressed together as his fingers ran across my body from my neck, down my breasts, and then over my hips and legs.

Like he was trying to memorize the feel of me. One last time.

“I can’t stick around if you choose him,” he said finally, his voice breaking. “I can’t watch you be with him.”

“Ciaran…” My throat tightened as tears pricked my eyes, my fingers curling into his shirt. “I can’t lose you.”

“Then promise me,” he said, his grip on my hipstightening as he pulled me closer, as his lips brushed against mine. “Promise me you’ll choose me.”

I hesitated, my heart splintering under the weight of his words. “I’m sorry. I can’t promise anything—yet.”

His jaw clenched, the hurt in his eyes nearly undoing me. “That’s not good enough, Ava.”

“I know,” I whispered, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I know.”

The minute I stepped into Ty’s bedroom, his scent of sandalwood lingering in the air, I realized I’d never been in here before.

It was a reflection of him: masculine, orderly, and purposeful, with slate-gray walls and meticulously arranged furniture. The heavy oak desk held neatly stacked books and a closed laptop, while the bed, dressed in charcoal bedding, was made with military precision.

But the moment I caught sight of him sitting on the edge of his bed facing the full-length mirror, shirtless, bruised, and bleeding from a cut on the side of his forehead he was trying to clean, a first aid kit laid out beside him, my chest tightened.

“You’re an eejit.” I walked up to him and snatched the antiseptic pad from his hands. “Why didn’t you ask for help?”

Ty gave me a wry smile, his lips quirking up even as he winced. “Guess I’m not great at that.”

“Turn this way.” Standing between his legs, I turned hischin so I could see his wound properly, my hands steadier than I felt.

He hissed when I pressed the pad to his skin, his muscles tensing under my touch.

“Stay still,” I muttered, dabbing at the wound with more care than I wanted to admit.

He chuckled softly, his breath fanning against my cheek. “So, you love me too, huh? It’s not exactly how I planned for this to go.”

I shot him a glare, but it lacked heat. “You can’t plan what you’re going to feel.”

His grin faded, replaced by something quieter, heavier. “That’s all I’ve ever done, Ava. Plan. Control. Achieve. But with you…”

I stilled, the antiseptic pad hovering over his skin. “With me, what?”

He reached up, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. “I had a plan even with you, but now I know… I can’t control what happens with us, can I?”

My throat tightened at the raw vulnerability in his voice. “Mhaor…”

“Don’t,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Don’t say anything just to make me feel better. I need you to be honest.”

I swallowed hard, focusing on the wound again to avoid his piercing gaze.

“You make me feel safe,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’re my calm in the middle of the storm. But…”

I hesitated, unsure if I could say the next words aloud.

“But what?” he prompted gently.

“But I fell in love with himfirst,” I said finally, the words cutting me as much as I feared they’d cut him.

He didn’t react right away, his silence stretching between us as he wrapped his arms around my legs and tugged me against him.

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